Jenny's artwork reminds me of a haunted dollhouse: details so very tiny, at times so very subversive, and as you stare you wonder about the brain behind it. It's a brat of a mind, one that pokes and pesters. Jenny straps that brat into a baby car seat and then sticks the car seat in front of the steering wheel and says, "OK, then. You drive." Something, Jenny writes, "holds me back from creating." Friends, if this is holding back, I don't know if I can handle unbound.

- Elise Young

I say this at risk of correction, and in journalism, corrections hurt: Autumn Lives Here is Substack's sole purveyor of snappy descriptions of possession films, drinkies recipes and really bats true crime. I mean, come on.

- Elise Young

Pip leaves a high-pressure professional world to go play in the dirt. Income is more than halved; bushwalking goes up 100%. The ultimate tale of realizing we have one life, and we must live it well.

- Elise Young

Say you're NOT at a life stage when you wonder what to do with the family cremains, when you're brave enough to confront secrets long kept, where you're ready to air your soul like so many bedsheets waving in the wind. That's OK. Because Alyson Archibeque is ripping her guts out so you don't have to, with sentiment and language capable of stunning mid-sentence and daring you to read on. Read on.

- Elise Young

Valuable for anyone looking for full- or part-time work. And, I mean, the dog photos.

- Elise Young

Former teenage alcoholic Corey Smith should be dead. Fortunately he's not. Because: "Still, I wished to be noticed, to believe I existed, to have somebody say, 'You can sit here.'" And more just like that.

- Elise Young