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Temporary Hilary Leichter Socialist Realism Trisha Low Things to Make and Break May-Lan Tan Mean Myriam Gurba The Gift Barbara Browning I’ll Tell You In Person Chloe Caldwell I Love Dick Chris Kraus Problems Jade Sharma Broken Glass Park Alina Bronsky Prostitute Laundry Charlotte Shane Surveys Natasha Stagg Margaret the First Danielle Dutton "The sheets in the photographs match the sheets on the bed. The body looks good. The face isn't much. I smile. I'm one of them now, a blade in the guts of some future girl." From Things to Make and Break, by May-Lan Tan Gift Certificate Animals Emma Jane Unsworth Inside Madeleine Paula Bomer Our Spoons Came From Woolworths Barbara Comyns Pretend I’m Dead Jen Beagin Eve’s Hollywood Eve Babitz The Selected Jenny Zhang Jenny Zhang Painting Their Portraits In Winter Myriam Gurba Thérèse and Isabelle Violette Leduc Lolly Willowes Sylvia Townsend Warner My Body Is a Book of Rules Elissa Washuta Her 37th Year: An Index Suzanne Scanlon Language, as she deployed it, was neither a line cast nor a bullet fired. It was a catholic mechanism: the sharp twist of a pilot biscuit into the waifish body of a christ. A word, placed on her tongue, became flesh. One night it was almost morning, I could almost see her, every sentence a necklace she was pulling out of her mouth, tangled in smoke. From Things to Make and Break, by May-Lan Tan Dead Horse Niina Pollari Black Cloud Juliet Escoria Pity the Animal Chelsea Hodson The Wallcreeper Nell Zink My Brilliant Friend Elena Ferrante Scarecrone Melissa Broder Playing the Whore: The Work of Sex Work Melissa Gira Grant How To Get Into the Twin Palms Karolina Waclawiak The Autobiography of Daniel J. Isengart Filip Noterdaeme The Compleat Purge Trisha Low Yokohama Threeway Beth Lisick Notice Heather Lewis On the deepest level in my gut, I knew she was not coming. How could she come? It was ridiculous. Idealistic. Flighty. Fantasy. But she’d told me she’d gotten a driver, and she would leave the city around ten a.m. I had to take her at her word. Though I’d possibly be cooler, more authentic, if I didn’t scrub the toilet and change my books around so the obscure ones would show. Chloe Caldwell, I’ll Tell You In Person No Regrets Dayna Tortoricci The Days of Abandonment Elena Ferrante The Terrible Girls Rebecca Brown After Claude Iris Owens Meaty Samantha Irby Cassandra at the Wedding Dorothy Baker King Kong Theory Virginie Despentes Nevada Imogen Binnie Lee and Elaine Ann Rower Empathy Sarah Schulman Speedboat Renata Adler The Correspondence Artist Barbara Browning "I could speak to them all right, but at the point they stopped being strangers I always wished they'd be strangers again." -Dorothy Baker, Cassandra at the Wedding Nine Months Paula Bomer I’m Trying To Reach You Barbara Browning Promising Young Women Suzanne Scanlon Maidenhead Tamara Faith Berger Mercury Ariana Reines Loitering With Intent Muriel Spark One More for the People Martha Grover Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead Barbara Comyns Making Scenes Adrienne Eisen Lightning Rods Helen DeWitt the buddhist Dodie Bellamy Sempre Susan Sigrid Nunez The first time she told her mother to fuck off, her mother was sitting on the dirty blue velvet couch, reading the newspaper. Polly walked into the living room, excited. Her mother didn’t look up. There was a bottle of beer, open, mostly full, sweating on the table next to her. “Fuck you!” Polly said, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her mother looked up, alarmed, but without missing a beat, she whacked Polly across the face with the newspaper. —Paula Bomer, “Down the Alley” from Inside Madeleine Glory Goes and Gets Some Emily Carter Inferno (a poet’s novel) Eileen Myles No More Nice Girls Ellen Willis
"The sheets in the photographs match the sheets on the bed. The body looks good. The face isn't much. I smile. I'm one of them now, a blade in the guts of some future girl." From Things to Make and Break, by May-Lan Tan
Language, as she deployed it, was neither a line cast nor a bullet fired. It was a catholic mechanism: the sharp twist of a pilot biscuit into the waifish body of a christ. A word, placed on her tongue, became flesh. One night it was almost morning, I could almost see her, every sentence a necklace she was pulling out of her mouth, tangled in smoke. From Things to Make and Break, by May-Lan Tan
On the deepest level in my gut, I knew she was not coming. How could she come? It was ridiculous. Idealistic. Flighty. Fantasy. But she’d told me she’d gotten a driver, and she would leave the city around ten a.m. I had to take her at her word. Though I’d possibly be cooler, more authentic, if I didn’t scrub the toilet and change my books around so the obscure ones would show. Chloe Caldwell, I’ll Tell You In Person
"I could speak to them all right, but at the point they stopped being strangers I always wished they'd be strangers again." -Dorothy Baker, Cassandra at the Wedding
The first time she told her mother to fuck off, her mother was sitting on the dirty blue velvet couch, reading the newspaper. Polly walked into the living room, excited. Her mother didn’t look up. There was a bottle of beer, open, mostly full, sweating on the table next to her. “Fuck you!” Polly said, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her mother looked up, alarmed, but without missing a beat, she whacked Polly across the face with the newspaper. —Paula Bomer, “Down the Alley” from Inside Madeleine