Excerpts
Angel in the House
My wife is becoming an angel, or some kind of spiritual being, I’m not sure exactly what. The other day I moved to touch her and my hand went right through her—right where her shoulder used to be—and scooped out a light-speckled cloud of her into the air that took a moment to reform. She …
WHEN YOU BRING IN THE PAPER
You’ve seen these photos before, empty bird cage ribs of a child sitting in the dust. But this copper, naked body, shining supine on the front page of August 2, 2011, seems more insect than child, swollen chest, a thorax, bent limbs jutting at angles, hip fleshless as the joint of a Jerusalem cricket, skull …
THE CANARY KEEPER
In a neat house on the outskirts of Market Town lived a small-time actor, a man whose legendary ability to cry on cue had deserted him. Newspaper reviews from long ago called him ‘‘The Fountain.’’ Nowadays he was dried up, his tear ducts clogged with despair. If the footlights grew dim in the presence of …
MAKING LUNCH
Because nothing I see this morning brings us closer to spring, snow falling out of the Jersey sky into the cloudy river, wet shoes facing toe-in by the stove, the uppers spotted with rock salt and because each sound signifies winter— wind in the wires and the far-off train like the voice of a child …
GREY BIRDS
When I glance out the window three grey birds fly through me and fade as dots in the gloomy June sky. I’m one of them now— maybe all three. Or are the four of us now someone I knew a long time ago, just becoming conscious of the fog?
CATHY PARK HONG. ENGINE EMPIRE.
The existence of ‘‘smart’’ snow that ‘‘monitors you,’’ staring, watching, studying. Being online constantly, 24/7, and merely having to blink your eyes to go off. Flying aerocabs. Antique ringtones that remind one of a time when it was all so much simpler. Everywhere, a complete erasure of the ‘‘old realism.’’ Cathy Park Hong’s latest collection, …
BACKORDERED
Each morning she drank her tea and then stamped the used tea bag onto thick creamy paper. She did this day after day, weeks became months, until she had nine tea bags across, thirteen down. When I understood how long I’d be in bed, I took my time with catalogs, thumbing through pages, folding corners. …
ANGER: THE RAPE
No cruelty is like the cruelty one turns against oneself after being raped one feels covered in slime and shit said the old woman grimly This place used to be a park now it is a parking lot ha ha for which I am in the ornamental fringe don’t tell me I should get over …
Anis Shivani. Against the Workshop: Provocations, Polemics, Controversies. Texas Review Press.
Against the Workshop: Provocations, Polemics, Controversies, a book of critical essays by writer Anis Shivani, unabashedly tackles one of the central foundations of contemporary American literature: the creative writing program. Shivani critiques this literary mainstay that has so permeated the life of American writers that at times it seems absolutely unavoidable. Very little criticism exists …