by Robin Black
At the age of 39, just about two decades after having the dream that amplified my misguided conviction that genius should be my goal, I was finally able to write. Continue reading
by Robin Black
At the age of 39, just about two decades after having the dream that amplified my misguided conviction that genius should be my goal, I was finally able to write. Continue reading
by Alice Lowe
In his 1946 New Yorker review of Do I Wake or Sleep, Edmund Wilson, one of the most prominent critics of his day, called Isabel Bolton’s voice “exquisitely perfect in accent.” Continue reading
by Jessica Levine
Because I wanted to write novels and knew that writers draw on their memories, the idea of not remembering years of one’s life, the major as well as the minor events, terrified me—an enormous loss not only of experience but also of creative raw material. Continue reading
by Alice Lowe
I’ve planned this return trip for a year. It was to be a solo journey with a Woolfian agenda. So when Don, a painter, musician, and avowed Anglophile . . . expresses wistful envy at my plans, I surprise us both by blurting out, “Come with me!” Continue reading