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Staying Where I Am
The other night, I got home from my writers’ group feeling jazzed. After struggling with a story revision, I’d decided to show them something different, twenty-five pages of new nonfiction. “I loved it,” they said, and “This is what you should be writing.” Comments and questions, too, but in general a big thumbs-up. I dropped my satchel on the hall chair. I wanted to read everyone’s comments. But it was a little after ten, and C wanted to hear about my day and I about his, and by the time we’d talked and brushed our teeth, it was eleven....
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Jesus Girls
I stopped trying—and failing—to read the Bible every single day sometime in my twenty-seventh year. It was autumn, damp, cool, and cloud-webbed, and I remember the sense that a great tree in my heart was slowly rocking at its roots, dislodging from the dirt to which it had hewn....
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Well Met
I was working last week where I used to live, on the Navajo Reservation, part of a service trip with my parish. We rehabbed a trailer in Tuba City, hoed the sandy ground, and repaired doors and roofs in Moencopi, the Hopi village across the highway, pausing at times to look up and....
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Scribbling in the Sand
Faulkner famously said that a real writer would rob his mother for his art: “the Ode on a Grecian Urn is worth any number of old ladies.” I have to admit I’m not willing to go to such lengths. I suppose Ode on a Grecian Urn may well be worth a number of old ladies. But it’s hard to....
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To Transform Looking into Loving
There have been numerous studies in recent years about the decline of reading—such as those promulgated by Dana Gioia at the National Endowment for the Arts, backed by hard statistics and unassailable analysis. But nothing makes my heart sink more than when a great piece of writing is misunderstood by those who ought to....
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Current Issue
Issue 72
Memoir by Lauren Winner, Poetry by James Harpur, Art by Guy Chase and Adrian Wiszniewski
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