Our Spring issue is here—featuring interviews with Sarah Schulman and Darryl Pinckney, prose by Tao Lin and Yu Hua, poetry by Inger Christensen and Joyelle McSweeney, art by Cauleen Smith, a cover by Cecily Brown, and more. buff.ly/fGxnHCT
“There are worse things than not receiving love. There are sadder stories than this. There are species going extinct, and a planet warming. I told myself: who are you to complain, you with these frivolous extracurricular needs?”
The Paris Review mourns the loss of Louise Glück (1943-2023). In celebration of her life and work, we’ve unlocked her poems from our archive.
theparisreview.org/authors/26185/…
We at the Review mourn the loss of Alice Munro (1931–2024). In memory of her life and work, we’ve unlocked her Art of Fiction interview from our archive.
“I want to believe that the younger generation appreciates the beauty in the chaos and blur of translation, that they delight in extracting meaning from sounds that were perhaps once simply melted into the melody,” writes @EmilyYoon on poetry and #BTS.
“Is the foreignness of language in fact part of the attraction?” Issue 227 contributor @Emilyyoon writes about K-pop, language, @BTS_twt, poetry, and tenderness:
Zora Neale Hurston passed away on this day fifty-eight years ago. Read about when Alice Walker flew down to Florida and bought a headstone for Hurston’s unmarked grave:
“I saw that women don’t have to write about what men write about, or write what men think they want to read. I saw that women have whole areas of experience men don’t have—and that they’re worth writing and reading about.” —Ursula K. Le Guin
The Paris Review mourns the loss of Edna O’Brien (1930–2024). In celebration of her life and work, we’ve unlocked her Art of Fiction interview from our archive.
“The writer is always tricking the reader into listening to the dream.”
Rest in peace, Joan Didion (1934–2021). Read more from the Art of Fiction No. 71: theparisreview.org/interviews/343…
Rest in peace, Philip Roth. “There has to be some pleasure in this job, and that’s it. To go around in disguise. To act a character. To pass oneself off as what one is not. To pretend. The sly and cunning masquerade.”