Memoir & Essay

Black Sugar <span style=by Elizabeth Robertson Laytin (excerpt)" width="600" />

Black Sugar by Elizabeth Robertson Laytin (excerpt)

The house where I live is deep in the woods. The driveway is overgrown with moss. A defiant mushroom has pushed up through the tar where the drive meets the street. How its roots wound their way under and up, I cannot imagine. It is…

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Spring, Miss Nelson’s Class <span style=by Scott Latta" width="600" />

Spring, Miss Nelson’s Class by Scott Latta

Consider the things that have to happen for a tornado to form. A tornado starts miles above us. In the atmosphere a vortex of air, a mesocyclone, rotates around a supercell thunderstorm way up out of reach, until heavy rainfall from the storm starts to…

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My Lord You <span style=by James Salter (excerpt)" width="600" />

My Lord You by James Salter (excerpt)

There were crumpled napkins on the table, wineglasses still with dark remnant in them, coffee stains, and plates with bits of hardened Brie. Beyond the bluish windows the garden lay motionless beneath the birdsong of summer morning. Daylight had come. It had been a success…

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Heist <span style=by E. L. Doctorow (excerpt)" width="600" />

Heist by E. L. Doctorow (excerpt)

Portrait of E. L. Doctorow by Matt Collins Sunday afternoon. A peddler in a purple chorister’s robe selling watches in Battery Park. Fellow with dreadlocks, a sweet smile, sacral presence. Doing well. Rock doves everywhere aswoop, the grit of the city in their wings. And…

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Taut Rhythmic Surfaces <span style=by George Saunders (excerpt)" width="600" />

Taut Rhythmic Surfaces by George Saunders (excerpt)

Portrait of James Salter by Matt Collins Speaking at a Celebration of James Salter’s Life and Work July 28, 2015 All Souls Unitarian Church New York City I didn’t know James Salter well at all, personally. I only spent part of one day with him…

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The Piano Recital <span style=by Jane Hamilton (excerpt)" width="600" />

The Piano Recital by Jane Hamilton (excerpt)

I knew as a child that music was the portal to joy. In my house growing up there was always music coming from the living room radio tuned to Chicago’s classical music station. My older sisters put on their tutus and danced. My father, when…

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The Brief Golfing Life of  Oscar Bunn <span style=by Baylis Greene" width="600" />

The Brief Golfing Life of Oscar Bunn by Baylis Greene

So what would lead a Shinnecock Indian, born in 1875, on looping peregrinations across South America, from Uruguay to Chile, from Rio de Janeiro in Brazil down to Buenos Aires, Argentina? How about a little white ball? Or, as Oscar Bunn’s American passport has it,…

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Billy Chuck <span style=by Lily White (excerpt)" width="600" />

Billy Chuck by Lily White (excerpt)

“Pretend to stab me,” my brother says. I lunge at him with an invisible knife and he takes my straight arm and bends it backwards. “Ow!” I say. My brother does tai chi, but not just the slow motion stuff. He says he knows this…

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Meals <span style=by Dorothy Hom (excerpt)" width="600" />

Meals by Dorothy Hom (excerpt)

The rolling pin is stamped, “Made in Maine, USA.” I was Made in Brooklyn.      Descended from Chinese immigrants, I am neither wholly American (whatever that means), nor fully knowledgeable of Chinese speech and culture. I grow up feeling aimless. Lost. Ungrounded. I am a “Juk…

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About <span style=by Fae Leslie (excerpt)" width="600" />

About by Fae Leslie (excerpt)

It’s not too hard to write about my mother. It’s too hard to write about all of her. About the sharpness in her face when she disowned me in the Delhi airport on the last day of family vacation in front of my Granny, my…

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