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Commentaries

Hamnet: Art Through Grief

Hamnet, both Zhao’s film and the 2020 novel by Maggie O’Farrell of the same name upon which the film is based, is a much quieter meditation on grief, reliant on the construction of Hamlet to do so.

BETWEEN LOVE & DESPAIR ON BEALE STREET

If Beale Street Could Talk captures the story of a young woman struggling to clear the name of her imprisoned lover, contrasting, in a single breath, the vividness of their lives with the jagged emptiness of jail.

Resisting Obsolescence

Confronted by a government with the power to exile readers into obsolescence, one must question: what do books represent that poses such a threat to a governing force? Other than simply generating knowledge, do books have the capacity to bestow power, evoke transformation, or embody hope?

Short Fiction

Fresno: Eros

It was maybe the dozenth time being the circle’s center when Johnny realized he didn’t hate people’s reactions to seeing his blood. So, he figured, if one can’t be loved, then why not be the topic of conversation?

Patrol

He watched until the child reached its mother in the doorway. Then he shouldered the pack and continued down the gravel road.

Doll Parts

I hate it like I hate everything that’s Kennedy’s and not mine. Everything that’s got Ken when I don’t.


Personal Essays

Crowdsourced Syllabus

For the last four years, whenever a bCourses page is posted at the start of the semester, the first thing I do is view the syllabus. I’m drawn to classes where the book list is either familiar or totally outside of my scope, nothing in between.

People We Meet Once

Most of our lives are composed of small exchanges, so brief they barely register as events. I thought memory belonged to the people who stayed. To friends, lovers, classmates, names saved in contacts. But slowly, quietly, strangers began proving me wrong.

Interviews

Visuals

Art: Of the Places We’ll Go

The following two pieces are part of a four-piece series titled Of the Places We’ll Go. Death, Then Life, Arami Matevosyan You never claimed residency on earth. Somehow the idea of mortality was never enough—you wanted to live through the fruits of the next couple…

Artwork: Wakey Wakey

I’m not much of an artist—or really, any of an artist. I can’t draw, can barely read my own handwriting, and if I paint it looks like a bird took a technicolor shit. But I like Photoshop—the files, clicking, filters: it’s technical, but meritocratic. Here,…

Artwork: Baby Birds

Oh what soft sweet merriment That carries with it such a beauteous glint In the hearts of all those who feel its wonder To cross their paths to make them ponder On the love that dwells In their souls as deep as wishing wells Upon…



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