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An excerpt from Adam Braver’s novel, November 22, 1963
“The fruition of the year had come and the night should have been fine with a moon in the sky and the crisp sharp promise of frost in the air, but it wasn’t that way. It rained and little puddles of water shone under the street lamps on Main Street. In the woods in the [...]
All complaints concern sky viewing. For example, wedged between my office door and floor last week I found a parchment written by Caldor Clemens with Tree branches are air-veins to be beheaded, down with them. I placed the parchment with the others. I too am a great admirer of colors above. Selah and I want [...]
I have lost some books in the re-reading. Stories which fell far short or disappointed me bitterly in some totally unexpected way once revisited. Heart of Darkness, like Moby-Dick and a handful of others, is one of those rare books that seems to pull me into it more deeply upon each re-reading. The brief and [...]
Kurtz is so very much more than a character, or a “remarkable man,” although he is also both of those things. Kurtz is a martyr, a saint, and an idea, and ideas live on long after those who created them have passed. Near the conclusion of Heart of Darkness Marlow explains that Kurtz is remarkable [...]
I have an empty perfume bottle that I took from my first girlfriend a long time ago.
“They wandered here and there with their absurd long staves in their hands, like a lot of faithless pilgrims bewitched inside a rotten fence.”
“They were dying slowly—it was very clear. They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now—nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation, lying confusedly in the greenish gloom.”
I. How during the Hunger Winter the Dutch ate their tulips. How they peeled away the bulbs’ dry and papery tunics, licked their lips, and counted their children’s ribs. How they shaved smooth the hairy roots, sliced out the riotous yellow buds at the center, diced and fried the tulip meat with brown beans and salt. [...]
They called her La Baudilia, because she was the exact female version of her brother, that famous Baudilio Cartablanca, who later ended a long career as a Venezuelan revolutionary, dying a renegade. She had the same sharp nose, the same bulging eyes, and the same measured and gentle way of speaking that hid, or tried [...]
Complete Shirley Jackson’s Unfinished Story!
“Santa Anas had been blowing all the smog out of downtown L.A., funneling between the Hollywood and Puente Hills on westward through Gordita Beach and out to sea, and this had been going on for what seemed like weeks now. Offshore winds had been too strong to be doing the surf much good, but surfers [...]
Since 2008 whenever I’ve taught bored teenagers and I sense I need to wake them up, or entice them to believe that literature can be exciting, I go straight to a rapturously written excerpt from Peter Orner’s extraordinary novel The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo. (A taste: “Her cheeks sag off her face like grocery [...]
And finally the tragedy. The boy’s parents selected a wooden casket with fine grained eddies streaking its polished sides, ready to be lowered into a family plot when they found him.
“It won’t be enough to seal the outside doors, or even all the apartment doors,” Gerrit told everyone. “We have to do that, and more.” He told them how they did it in Amsterdam, how they needed to build layers of defense. “This is how it’s done,” he said. “This is what we need to [...]
We discovered the house’s beating heart when Margaret poured the dregs of her papier mâché project down the kitchen drain.
Khufu’s funeral ceremony is in progress. This is the ninth time since Christmas vacation. Maryanne and Louisa carry Khufu’s organs into the middle of the auditorium in a big plastic container. The organs are really just oranges and apples and grapes, fruits that get slimy the longer they are left out. Earlier that morning we [...]
In the garden he has trained roses through the frames of medicine trolleys and up stairwell cages made to thwart patient suicides. From the trees he hangs emergency eyewash stations filled with water, and seed dispensers that were once miniature incinerators mounted in every ward for the quick disposal of tainted materials. Sometimes he sits [...]
Welcome to the inaugural Tin House Podcast: Nooner Edition, a bi-monthly burst of poetry and story telling culled from our Summer Workshop reading series. On today’s Nooner, Jodi Angel reads from “Firm and Good” which Tin House was luck enough to publish twice. First appearing in our 2013 Summer Reading issue, it is also featured in [...]
The Revolution of Every Day – Coming Soon!
We had just gotten naked and blazed up, and we were feeling maybe one-quarter ecstatic. Nobody had eaten any refined sugar or wheat for weeks; half of us ate like primitive hunters, and the other half like gatherers. We stood in the cross-hatch-fenced backyard, amidst waist-high grass and cornflowers, and embraced like brothers and sisters, [...]
Autumn when the sycamores turn we find ourselves on Earl Drabble’s field having taken up what armament is to be scavenged along the dirt road.
We were waiting for the mudslide and the night.
Very Short Shorts by Matthew Sharpe!
1979 We sit on the benches and watch the buses unload. Cort, Voss, and me. We’re high school seniors, at long last, and it’s the privilege of seniors to take up these spots in front of the dormitories, checking out the new bodies and faces. Boys with big glasses and bangs in their eyes, girls [...]