Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 94
September 4, 2020
Issue 20, Fall 2020: 10 Years of The Common
Issue 20 of The Common will be here this fall. Subscribe by September 30 to find this hot pink celebration in your mailbox! This issue includes a portfolio of writing from and about the Lusosphere: Portugal's colonial and linguistic diaspora.
Friday Reads: September 2020
Curated by ISABEL MEYERS
In this month’s Friday Reads, we’re hearing from our volunteer readers, who consider submissions for print and online publication. Their book recommendations range from poetry collections to recent novel debuts and Flannery O’Connor short stories revisited through the lens of anti-racism. Read on for new quarantine entertainment.
In this month’s Friday Reads, we’re hearing from our volunteer readers, who consider submissions for print and online publication. Their book recommendations range from poetry collections to recent novel debuts and Flannery O’Connor short stories revisited through the lens of anti-racism. Read on for new quarantine entertainment.
September 3, 2020
Ghost Town
SALLY BALL & MICHAEL EASTMAN
St. Louis is the center of this series: middle-class (or once middle-class) St. Louis, and the layers of depletion and reinvigoration and depletion-again-anyway-despite that are visible in the facades boarded over, or enlivened (once) with murals, or not painted going on 30-40 years.
St. Louis is the center of this series: middle-class (or once middle-class) St. Louis, and the layers of depletion and reinvigoration and depletion-again-anyway-despite that are visible in the facades boarded over, or enlivened (once) with murals, or not painted going on 30-40 years.
August 31, 2020
Writers on Writing: Blessing Ofia-Inyinya Nwodo
BLESSING OFIA-INYINYA NWODO
I write for women who are held back by unimaginably asinine rules created by men and yet, still thrive and shine. The world is full of things to notice and I write for people who need to be seen, who need something to relate to so life can seem a bit easier. I write for myself because I wouldn’t forgive myself if I don’t.
I write for women who are held back by unimaginably asinine rules created by men and yet, still thrive and shine. The world is full of things to notice and I write for people who need to be seen, who need something to relate to so life can seem a bit easier. I write for myself because I wouldn’t forgive myself if I don’t.
August 28, 2020
August 2020 Poetry Feature #2: Philip Nikolayev translates Alexander Pushkin
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN
It's for you that my soft and affectionate voice / Disturbs at this late hour a silent night’s repose. / Where by my bed a melancholy candle glows, / My verse rushes along, burbles and overflows / In brooks of love, filled with you, and at last I see / Your eyes, out of the dark shining, smiling at me
It's for you that my soft and affectionate voice / Disturbs at this late hour a silent night’s repose. / Where by my bed a melancholy candle glows, / My verse rushes along, burbles and overflows / In brooks of love, filled with you, and at last I see / Your eyes, out of the dark shining, smiling at me
August 27, 2020
Review: Dispatches from the Land of White Noise—The Undocumented Americans
ALICIA MIRELES CHRISTOFF
Chinga la Migra. Fuck ICE. So begins Karla Cornejo Villavicencio’s The Undocumented Americans, a book that is equal parts curse words and incantation, burn it all down and bleeding heart.
Chinga la Migra. Fuck ICE. So begins Karla Cornejo Villavicencio’s The Undocumented Americans, a book that is equal parts curse words and incantation, burn it all down and bleeding heart.
August 26, 2020
Opłatek
JANNETT MATUSIAK
My mother breaks the card-sized wafer embossed with the nativity into fragments and wedges one into my father’s still hand, placing it on his chest. We each take our own piece to offer and receive from each other. My father’s voice is at a whisper as we all lean down to kiss his cheek.
My mother breaks the card-sized wafer embossed with the nativity into fragments and wedges one into my father’s still hand, placing it on his chest. We each take our own piece to offer and receive from each other. My father’s voice is at a whisper as we all lean down to kiss his cheek.
August 24, 2020
Connecting What Has Been Severed with Sudan: The Short Story as it Fills Voids with Imagining
HISHAM BUSTANI
It is May 2019, and at the moment there is a revolution in Sudan, and people, among them a great number of authors, have taken to the streets and squares, demanding the fall of a regime that has—like many of its “siblings”—weighed down on and repressed them for decades.
It is May 2019, and at the moment there is a revolution in Sudan, and people, among them a great number of authors, have taken to the streets and squares, demanding the fall of a regime that has—like many of its “siblings”—weighed down on and repressed them for decades.
August 20, 2020
Amplifying Black Voices on TC Online III
This is the third installment of an online series highlighting work by Black authors published in The Common. To read The Common’s statement in support of the nationwide protests against anti-Black racism, white supremacy, and police brutality, click here.
August 19, 2020
All In and Out of Time
ALLYN GAESTEL
A love of mine took my photograph one Sunday afternoon in a gallery in Dakar: My face is buried in ripples of tissuey white paper. I am leaning forward, and though you can’t see them, I am blinking my eyes. I am feeling the softness of this artwork we are not meant to touch.
A love of mine took my photograph one Sunday afternoon in a gallery in Dakar: My face is buried in ripples of tissuey white paper. I am leaning forward, and though you can’t see them, I am blinking my eyes. I am feeling the softness of this artwork we are not meant to touch.
