from The Editors
There is no doubt that Bloom fills a crucial and vital gap in literary life and conversation. The community grows and grows.
by Juhi Singhal Karan
Does the number of novels that one publishes have anything to do with being a writer, or the act of writing? We think not. This month we talk about five novels that were the only novels their writers published.
By Lisa Peet
There’s a process of shaving away details to make a news story short enough to fit the space it’s been assigned, and with every detail that’s cut, a little bit of nuance is lost.
by Lisa Peet
The book’s underlying tension comes not from individuals endlessly pushing back against the machine of state. Rather, each player in The Dog is straining, in ways large and small, to metabolize that machine.
by Dena Santoro
In 2015, Mackler’s first ever solo show, at Kerry Schuss on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, has brought new attention to her work—with a few months to spare before her 82nd birthday.
“With a novel, the end felt so far off, always beyond the horizon, and that was a terrifying feeling. Eventually, I had to teach myself to be okay with that, to turn the uncertainty and fear into a productive state of mind.”
by Vu Tran
I’d been trained on the force to trust my gut, or at least respect it enough to never dismiss it; but it crossed my mind that I was imagining all this, that in the previous five months I’d been glancing over my shoulder at shadows and flickering lights.
by Kaulie Lewis
Then there’s the considerably less successful but still daringly inventive bohemian Bloomer Joe Gould, who spent his life composing what is likely the longest novel ever written, depending on your definition of “novel.”