Is Detroit the new Brooklyn? Two Brooklyn writers relocated to the Motor City and are trying to turn the city into a writers’ haven with the project “Write A House.” The non-profit will award free, renovated houses in Detroit to writers of modest means.
Writing in the Motor City
“That shit was too white.”
The introduction Junot Díaz wrote for Dismantle: An Anthology of Writing from the VONA/Voices Writing Workshop has been adapted as a contribution to the ongoing conversation (of which The Millions has been a part) about writing programs at large and about MFA vs. NYC specifically. At issue is Díaz’s (rightful) assertion that an important topic – diversity – hasn’t been adequately addressed in evaluations of the supposed program and publishing dichotomy thus far. (Related: Sandra Cisneros’s “I Hate the Iowa Writer’s Workshop.”)
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Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi Seeks Inescapable Landscapes
Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi discusses her latest novel, Savage Tongues, and how its evocative descriptions of landscapes shaped her characters' existences.
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The Pathways of an Essay
Recommended Reading: E.V. de Cleyre writes for Ploughshares about the essay form and its familiar shapes.
Marriage in Literature
In response to the Bookends question, “What is the Best Portrayal of a Marriage in Literature?,” Year in Reading alum Leslie Jamison writes movingly about the poetry of Jack Gilbert and concludes that “this is marriage: not knowing one’s wife but constantly relearning her, not possessing her but rediscovering her, constantly finding a new beloved within the already familiar spouse.” For a slightly different perspective on marriage in literature, look no further than our own Matt Seidel‘s “Survey of Literature’s Non-Traditional Marriage Proposals.”
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Give Not a Fig
“Maybe Gnossos, had [Richard] Fariña lived long enough for a sequel, would have wound up on a commune in Canada, nibbling feta and blissed out on retsina, exhaling paregoric joints in some lush and fragrant garden … But he died in his twenties, like a lot of energetic young men of his era. It was the kind of romantic death we feel we understand almost too well, a promising talent suspended, that sense of exemption he wrote about—from mediocrity, from bourgeois compromise and midlife disappointment—a membrane forever intact.” On the enduring joys and exuberant voice of Richard Fariña’s Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me.
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