Jillian Weise • April 1, 2014
May we talk about poetry and magic? Or is it passé? I have a feeling it is passé. But still I hear poets say, “I don’t choose the form. The poem chooses the form,” or “The poem speaks to me.” They say these things flatly[...]
March 13, 2014We are pleased to announce that applications are now open for three A Public Space Emerging Writer fellowships. Under this new project, three emerging writers will receive:
Alexander Chee • November 25, 2013
Do we need to make a case for fiction, you might ask. Especially if you write fiction, there may be no question, to you. But in my experience, for most of our fellow citizens, what we do is invisible, unimaginable. “I couldn’t do it,” so many people tell me. And if it is invisible and unimaginable, it is also, I’m afraid, indefensible.
Robert Sullivan • November 19, 2013
The first episode of The Land, a program produced in association with A Public Space, explores different interactions between humans and their spaces and places, many of which are mentioned in Issue 19.
This episode features a sound map of Montreal; a visit to Brooklyn's Fulton Mall; the ecology of cities; The Murphy Beds on the road; the Nobel Laureate’s library branch; Jorie Graham and Patrizia Cavalli in sonic translation; and a remembrance of Keith Basso. Read more about this episode here.
Aaron Crippen • November 4, 2013
Aaron Crippen's translations of Du Fu's poems appeared in Issue 17.
For a poet, there must be no greater pleasure than reading classical Chinese. For a translator, there may be no greater challenge than translating it. For Chinese writing is unique, with its pictographic roots. Fundamentally, its words do not denote sounds, as in alphabetic languages, but objects—such as 日, the sun—or combinations of objects to express ideas—such as 明, the sun and crescent moon together, meaning “bright” or “clear.” Its curves have been straightened and standardized, but in 日 we still recognize what was once a circle, like the sun, with a dot at its center.
Yiyun Li • October 1, 2013
The thought of interviewing Tom Drury and Yan Lianke with a set of similar questions occurred to me because in an ideal world, without geological and language barriers, I would have liked to listen to a conversation between the two.
Tania James • October 1, 2013
This article originally appeared on May 18, 2012.
When I moved into my current flat in Jangpura Extension, New Delhi, my landlady told me that her father-in-law had designed the neighborhood as a settlement for refugees from Pakistan, after Partition. I asked her who and what had been here before the 1950s. Her answer, more than once, was, “Nothing.”
APS | 7 Questions for Miroslav Penkov • October 1, 2013
This article originally appeared on March 30, 2012.
1. Can you describe your daily routine, any rituals or habits?
It’s general consensus that a writer ought to write, or at least put in the hours behind the typewriter, every day.
Dorthe Nors • October 1, 2013
This article originally appeared on November 3, 2011.
Recently, I was asked by literary friends in the United States whom we Danes were hoping might win the Nobel Prize in Literature. I had no real idea of any consensus, but as happens every year a large number of male culture scribes over the age of sixty seemed to think it should be given to Bob Dylan. Which always makes me wonder why, if the prize really should go to a troubadour, no one ever talks about Leonard Cohen, but that’s just my own personal aside.
October 1, 2013
This article originally appeared on October 18, 2011.
A recent review of Salvage the Bones considers the novel in the context of a Salon essay about Modern Steinbecks. These novels, the reviewer suggests, “play into the exoticization of lives unlike those of readers who are inclined to pick up literary fiction.”
Salvage the Bones, like her stories “Cattle Haul” (APS 5) and “Barefoot” (APS 14), is set in rural Mississippi (the state with the greatest percentage of poor people in the nation, and one of the top ten in terms of income inequality). It takes place in the days before Hurricane Katrina. The narrator, Esch, fifteen and pregnant, lives with her three brothers and father in a clearing in the woods they call the Pit.