I don't believe in ashes; some of the others do. I don't believe in better or best; some of the others do. I don't believe in a thousand flowers or the first robin of the year or statues made of dust. Some of the others do. I don't believe in seeking sheet music by Boston…
The initial encouragement of publication of David Wong Louie's work should be credited to David Hamilton at The Iowa Review, where two of his earlier stories appeared. Louie has also had work in Chicago Review, Kansas Quarterly, Agni Review, Mid-American Review, Fiction International and others, and is now readying a first collection called Displacement. Louie…
Amanda Pierson has a good eye, a fine ear, and a wanderer's heart. Born and raised in Princeton, New Jersey, Amanda traveled south following her graduation from Dartmouth College, and it is there-in the climate of Porter and Faulkner-that she began to discover her voice as a writer. Much has been made of the verbal…
Isaac looked like the tortured priest in Open City, and we lost him decades ago. I remember two fat gangster types who had gone to his funeral and were bragging in the tavern later that they had picked up two good-looking girls at the mortuary visitation and had laid them, and I thought Isaac would…
Mrs. Chow heard the widow. She tried reading faster but kept stumbling over the same lines. She thought perhaps she was misreading them: "There comes, then, finally, the prospect of atomic war. If the war is ever to be carried to China, common sense tells us only atomic weapons could promise maximum loss with minimum…
Emma's tongue woke him, wending a slow trail downward from his chest and making his hair stand on end. "Mmmm, salty," she said, smacking her lips as his eyes fluttered open, and then the trail of moistness, cool against the morning air, continued down, while Flaubert, the cat, observed with oriental and detached curiosity, and…
A version of the modern mind: long drives, flat landscapes, trees close up (the present) or far against the horizon (the past) and fences strung tight as the future, middle distance. The effect of distance on the slow movement of landscape past the traveler, this variorum of the present: the family on long trips to…
In large measure, Paul Ruffin's short story, "The Fox," speaks for itself. It accomplishes what a well-made short story should, and it goes a step further and satisfies the reader with the sense that this particular author's window into his characters' lives tells its brief tale completely. I feel obliged, however, to endorse this story…
I met Noy Holland six years ago at a writers' conference at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, where Barry Hannah wild man stories were still rife, though he had been gone from there a couple of years. The title of the conference was Voicelust, and Tuscaloosa, lush with boredom, marital breakup, dog racing, the…
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