He warned me once about being all-in with poetry.

In Crow’s version, Proverbs become advice on how to tell if someone gives good head.

But in this Freudian foreshadowing, Toto doesn’t quite realize that he’s far from Catholic school, with its rules and fall-in-line rigidity.

Is John Doe a writer, or just a content machine?

Adam Berlin’s collection of stories, All Around They’re Taking Down the Lights, opens with an anonymous man standing in the front of the mirror and practicing poses.

Richard Gere doing low-key

I was pleased beyond all measure at finally reading what I had been avoiding reading.

Lippens, like most writers and artists in general, occupies this space slightly distanced from the commotion of the world.

Sheila Heti has a bad memory. She’s sitting on the stage of the Mark Taper Auditorium in the Los Angeles Central Library, wearing a velvet jumpsuit with gold tendrils and black lace tights. Heti tells

To a degree rarely rivaled, Sean Kilpatrick lives for words. Tantrums is a testament to the last twenty years of his life, and includes absolutely batshit scripts, joyfully brutal fiction, and

Bitter Water Opera is one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read.

Molly, in its three hundred and twelve pages, transcends time and space, life and death.

Booze, Bullshit & Buttfucking is one of those books you can only describe with negative adjectives, despite your enjoyment of it. It’s quick and easy and invigorating in the way stimulants often

Part I of the book is titled Forest. 

She wanders a Sisyphean circuit around Berlin: to meetings with immigration lawyers, uninspiring parties, lame poetry readings.

“To be inside of someone's mind has to be the sexiest thing in the world.”

There’s an impulse to reduce the Tommy and Pam love story to easy pop-psychology terms: they had a trauma bond, he had a Madonna/Whore complex after she became a mother.

I thought maybe I would learn something about how to be less judgemental, or something.