by Lisa Peet
“There’s something about the physical presence of the book, and the power of agency of your own attention. It’s a very personal experience.” Continue reading
Tag Archives: Lisa Peet
The Personal is Political: Karyn Kloumann, Nauset Press, and Fierce
by Lisa Peet
“It is also a process where you learn something about yourself and make sense of the current events manifesting around you as part of a larger cycle of life. I also believe it makes a more engaging read…if there is a personal voice as well.” Continue reading
FIVE in BLOOM: Where Are They Now?
by Mollie Weisenfeld
In this edition of FIVE IN BLOOM, we reintroduce you to some of our earliest spotlighted authors, whose works continue to inspire. Continue reading
An Artist Artist: Nell Irvin Painter on Old in Art School
by Lisa Peet
I was used to juggling my self-perception and other people’s views of me as a black person and as a woman, from within and without. But now what I took as me seemed almost inconsequential as my essence shriveled to my age. This was something new. Continue reading
From Journalist to Novelist: Redefining Success
by Jennifer Haupt
I returned from Rwanda with a laptop full of stories from genocide survivors and aid workers, stories of reconciliation and forgiveness, stories of inhumane atrocities and superhuman resilience, stories of grace when there can be no forgiveness—stories of amahoro, the Rwandan greeting that literally means peace. Continue reading
Essays / Features / Nonfiction
Reading My Mother’s Mind: On Packing Up a Personal Library
by Lisa Peet
Books had always been a language my mother and I shared when she was well . . . And yet—once I was alone in her apartment with a stack of boxes, tasked with this move, and her books were all mine to do with as I liked, I knew one thing right away: I didn’t want them. Continue reading
Q&A with Delia Bell Robinson
by Lisa Peet
“I never meant to tell Peter’s story, but it was delivered as if by Scheherazade, arriving in unconnected episodes that somehow began to fit together. The pieces slowly developed a grip that held me in thrall. Before I knew it, Peter’s stories had taken shape in drawings and in words, and in no time seemed to take on a life beyond what he had told me.” Continue reading
