Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 85
February 4, 2021
Translation: A Trip to La Paz
HEBE UHART
When I was twenty years old, I went abroad for the first time; the train to La Paz took three days and it was easy to meet people on board. I went with Julia Leguizamón, who was a few years older than I was. To me, she was the essence of mystery and refined intelligence—qualities I lacked.
When I was twenty years old, I went abroad for the first time; the train to La Paz took three days and it was easy to meet people on board. I went with Julia Leguizamón, who was a few years older than I was. To me, she was the essence of mystery and refined intelligence—qualities I lacked.
February 3, 2021
E.A. Robinson Leaves by Rail
ABBY KIEFER
Raw granite and brick, hip roof like a helmet. At its height, it hummed: seventeen trains daily, lumbering in along the river. I imagine E.A. here with his ticket and his trunk. With his back to the brick, listening for a whistle.
Raw granite and brick, hip roof like a helmet. At its height, it hummed: seventeen trains daily, lumbering in along the river. I imagine E.A. here with his ticket and his trunk. With his back to the brick, listening for a whistle.
February 1, 2021
Podcast: Tanya Coke on “Brother Love”
TANYA COKE
Tanya Coke is a lawyer, writer, and philanthropy executive at the Ford Foundation. She speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about “Brother Love,” her essay from Issue 19 of The Common magazine.
Tanya Coke is a lawyer, writer, and philanthropy executive at the Ford Foundation. She speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about “Brother Love,” her essay from Issue 19 of The Common magazine.
January 28, 2021
January 2021 Poetry Feature
CLIFF FORSHAW
An age away you stopped to tie your lace. / What was your name? Who traced your frozen charm? / Your body’s with us still: you have no face. // Was it soft, or haughty? Tender, fearful, calm? / We’ll never know if it equalled the way your stance / tips a half-cradled breast from your folded arm.
An age away you stopped to tie your lace. / What was your name? Who traced your frozen charm? / Your body’s with us still: you have no face. // Was it soft, or haughty? Tender, fearful, calm? / We’ll never know if it equalled the way your stance / tips a half-cradled breast from your folded arm.
January 26, 2021
Review: Three Apples Fell From the Sky
OLGA ZILBERBOURG
A brave writer begins her novel with the deathbed. Instead of hooking a reader the way the proverbial gun on the wall might, opening with a death scene threatens her with the inevitable backstory.
A brave writer begins her novel with the deathbed. Instead of hooking a reader the way the proverbial gun on the wall might, opening with a death scene threatens her with the inevitable backstory.
January 22, 2021
Pandemic Poets: A Conversation with Tess Taylor and Dana Levin
TESS TAYLOR and DANA LEVIN
On October 21st, 2020, Editor in chief Jennifer Acker moderated a brief reading and conversation between acclaimed poets Tess Taylor and Dana Levin on the importance of place, resiliency, and writing during the pandemic.
On October 21st, 2020, Editor in chief Jennifer Acker moderated a brief reading and conversation between acclaimed poets Tess Taylor and Dana Levin on the importance of place, resiliency, and writing during the pandemic.
January 20, 2021
Split Me in Two
CELESTE MOHAMMED
You might be tempted to think that’s a typo or just bad copyediting... But, on the off chance you are of West Indian heritage, you know exactly what I mean. You know dougla is a real word and you know it means the new Vice President is half-Indian and half-black.
You might be tempted to think that’s a typo or just bad copyediting... But, on the off chance you are of West Indian heritage, you know exactly what I mean. You know dougla is a real word and you know it means the new Vice President is half-Indian and half-black.
January 19, 2021
Postcard from Rhodes
A. MAURICIO RUIZ
At eleven there was no one in sight. Only the cats watched me, curled up on top of the trash bins. Their heads turned as I walked past them.
At eleven there was no one in sight. Only the cats watched me, curled up on top of the trash bins. Their heads turned as I walked past them.
January 15, 2021
Podcast: Elisabeth Jaquette on Translating Sudanese Fiction
ELISABETH JAQUETTE
Translator Elisabeth Jaquette speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about four stories she translated from Arabic for Issue 19 of The Common magazine. These stories appear in a special portfolio of fiction from established and emerging Sudanese writers.
Translator Elisabeth Jaquette speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about four stories she translated from Arabic for Issue 19 of The Common magazine. These stories appear in a special portfolio of fiction from established and emerging Sudanese writers.
January 14, 2021
January 2021 Poetry Feature: Bruce Bond
BRUCE BOND
I was just another creature crawling from the mausoleum, / and I thought, so this is it, the place in the final chapter / where I am judged for all my cruelties, blunders, failures of attention, / and I waited for the furies to take me, or some such host. / But it was just another morning.
I was just another creature crawling from the mausoleum, / and I thought, so this is it, the place in the final chapter / where I am judged for all my cruelties, blunders, failures of attention, / and I waited for the furies to take me, or some such host. / But it was just another morning.
