When you’ve finished the story, delete the sentence. The story did not have to be in the form of a letter, and “you” could be ...

I just wanted to tap. But in the mid-Eighties and early Nineties, in the well-to-do suburbs of New Jersey, the price of flapping, winging, and shuffling off to Buffalo was… ...

William Dean Howells called it his “Uneasy Chair.” Lewis H. Lapham thought it “a column always grotesquely misnamed.” Bernard DeVoto simply wanted to do something else—a books section—and tried to fob ...

From Wildcat Dome, which will be published in March by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Translated from the Japanese by Lisa Hofmann-Kuroda. She gets off the bus and walks for about twenty meters along the ...

From a reading delivered in November in Richmond, Virginia. We began to figure it out on day eleven or twelve of the seven-day trip, the slate and obsidian waves rolling under our stern, the crispy ...

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Shia LaBeouf and I were born six days apart in June 1986. I see him as the representative of my nanodemographic—as if my week’s cohort of white American males emerged from a brief huddle to announce, ...

Julian the Apostate, by Julien Nguyen © Julien Nguyen. Courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery Shia LaBeouf and I were born six days apart in June 1986. I see him as the… ...

From a manuscript in progress. I used to think my grandmother peed pink.