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A New Year by Curtis Smith
My son runs into the living room. He wears the tuxedo he received last Christmas, the cuffs now high above his wrists. It’s New Year’s Eve, and I keep an eye on the clock. He holds out his hand. In his...
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Interview: Dani Shapiro
Dani Shapiro Years ago I was in a little Cape Cod town poking around in its delightfully tiny indie bookshop with aisles so narrow that you had to walk sideways. I came across Dani Shapiro’s memoir...
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The Writing Life: Writing from the Sidelines by Lisa Ahn
I finished my first novel when I was forty years old and the shock of it, the rifting amazement, nearly carried me away. The pages hadn’t begun as a Book. I hadn’t intended to be a Writer. I’d never...
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In Transit by Heather Rick
Matty’s boyfriend Devin was the only person I knew with an actual job. Granted, he stocked children’s rollerblades and cans of tennis balls in the sports department of some Walmart in the South...
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Review: Steve Jobs by Walter Issacson
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, New York: 2011, 571 pages plus photos, a list of sources and an index. Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs, titled simply Steve Jobs, is not the first book about...
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Editor’s Notes: June 2012
I love this shirt. Some people don't get it right away. But I think it is brilliant! Hi, readers! May was so much fun! But our birthday month (and celebration) has come to an end. And that means a...
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That Makes Two by Heather Van Deest
You cannot see the spots of blood on my mother’s driveway, the wet trail of red, like paint splattered on the ground, forgotten. Her neighbors scrubbed the cement clean later that night with bleach and...
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Only Child by Julie Marie Wade
A pretty, polka-dot envelope comes for me in the mail. My mother says I am too young for secret admirers, so we open the letter together. “It’s an invitation,” she smiles. “You’ve been invited to Lana...
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The Shangri-La That Isn’t by Jennifer Tuman
Heat and flies. Flies landing on my head, my arm, my plate, my food. Flies I have to constantly flick away while I eat. Flies forming a living, seething black tablecloth in a village restaurant that I...
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Toothbrush by MT Cozzola
“You have got to be kidding me.” We’re standing in Mom’s bathroom, my brother David and I, tugging on opposite ends of a toothbrush. Until two days ago, we called this Dad’s bathroom, even years after...
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