Alfred Corn, the esteemed poet and man of letters, brings his considerable gifts to Hosts, a radiant collection of short stories. Across ten pieces, his unmistakable poetic sensibility and the immeasurable storehouse of his vocabulary create a word‑lover’s paradise. These contemporary tales—of love, loss, memory, and disappointment—carry an ageless resonance, making them feel both timely and enduring. It is the kind of collection discerning readers have been waiting for.
In our morning reading: reviews of books by Vigdis Hjorth and Helen Garner, a look back at a landmark documentary, and more.
Pink
by Gareth Fitzgerald
She awoke on her stomach, wearing only his boxers, and before she opened her eyes, Cassie felt there was something in his boxers.
In our weekend reading: thoughts on Iphgenia Baal’s new collection, an interview with Bill Callahan, and more.
The more horror I read, the more I’m convinced of an inalienable truth: for a horror story to work, it has to reflect something that terrifies the author. That might be something as simple as an evil clown holding a machete, or it could be something abstract and idiosyncratic. Aoife Josie Clements’s Persona is firmly in the latter category, I suspect, but it isn’t entirely clear just how far its author is willing to go until its conclusion.
In our morning reading: thoughts on Iris Murdoch’s poetry, an interview with Maria BC, and more.
In our afternoon reading: thoughts on Tayari Jones’s new novel, literary award news, and more.
Early in Mike Powell’s slender debut novel, New Paltz, New Paltz, the protagonist establishes his affinity for escalators. “That feeling of moving without moving,” he remarks, “Like how an angel might move.” This divine eclipse with the material world is one of several instances in which the novel briefly punctures its own reality–one that traverses bingo nights and dog parks, a Fourth of July party. It is more than just the mystical and the mundane butting heads, however. As you read it, New Paltz, New Paltz, begins to feel more like a procedure in trying to ascertain what even can be considered ‘mundane’ or ‘mystical’ to begin with, and how we might discriminate between the two. The effect is dizzying while striving for clarity, like being taken through a washing machine cycle with some acid for detergent.