Poetry Spotlight: Chloe Honum

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I first met Chloe Honum in a summer workshop, after which the teacher asked me who I thought the most talented poet in the room was. I immediately named Chloe, whose poems haunted me long after we left the workshop room, and whose poems I hoped to publish in Memorious.  Since then, she has been awarded a Ruth Lilly Fellowship and her poems have appeared in such places as Poetry Magazine and The Paris Review. She has been awarded fellowships to the MacDowell Colony, the Kerouac House, and Djerassi. Three of her poems appeared in Memorious in 2011, and now, three years later, those poems have a home in her beautiful debut collection The Tulip Flame, which Tracy K. Smith wisely chose as the winner of the  2013 Cleveland State University Poetry Center First Book Prize.

This is not an erratic collection of a new poet cutting her teeth: this is a book to be read in one sitting, so that you can be held in Honum’s delicate and gripping spell of language.The collection is a highly lyrical reach back into personal history, circling around her mother’s suicide, and Honum draws on the natural world and the world of ballet for her sparse and memorable imagery.  The Tulip Flame is one of the must-read collections of 2014.

Chloe generously answered a few questions for us.

Can you tell us about the process of writing The Tulip Flame and finding a home for it?

The submission process can be daunting, and I think it’s important to trust that the work will find its way. I began sending the manuscript out in 2012, and I tried to greet the process with a lot of patience and trust. I’m honored to have landed at Cleveland State University Poetry Center. My editor there, Frank Giampietro, let me into all sides of the process; he was amazingly attentive and giving with his time.

You repeatedly return to the world of ballet in this collection. What was it like to bring this art into language? Has your study of ballet influenced your approach to writing?

I hope I carry into my writing some of the discipline I learned from studying ballet, especially in regard to pushing through the discomfort of facing my inadequacies. Practice could be draining, but I’ll never forget the first time I mastered a triple pirouette. It gave me a sensation of transcendence, and I’ve been so thankful to continue to find that sensation—however fleeting and rare—in writing poetry.

You were raised in New Zealand. Did the literature and landscape of New Zealand shape your writing at all?

I was raised on the North Shore of Auckland, where both my parents were born. The beauty of that landscape is staggering, and it was deeply intertwined with our lives, with all our joys and sorrows. In The Tulip-Flame, I’m interested in the relationship between beauty and pain, in the spark that happens when the two cohere.

This is a book that holds grief at its core. Are there poets you have turned to for their handling of grief, of loss?

 Over the years, I returned often to certain poems about loss. Here are a few of them.

 “The Voice,” by Thomas Hardy

“The Dream,” by Marie Howe

“Separation,” by W.S. Merwin

“Requiescat,” by Oscar Wilde

“To the Young Who Want to Die,” by Gwendolyn Brooks

What question would you want someone to ask about your book? And would you answer that for us?

How about: What do you keep near your writing desk?

This photograph of my mother and me, taken in 1985.

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What are you are working on now?

It’s a bit early to say. I’m drafting a lot these days, seeing what comes.

-Rebecca Morgan Frank, Editor

 

For original poetry, fiction, interviews, art, and art song, please visit our magazine at www.memorious.org.

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Fiction Spotlight: Contributing Editor Laura van den Berg’s Isle of Youth

Memorious’s contributing editor Laura van den Berg has had an exciting few months. Her story collection The Isle of Youth, published in November by FSG, has been celebrated by The New York Times, The Boston Globe, The New Republic, O. Magazine, and dozens of other newspapers and magazines. Just last week, Laura was named the winner of the Rosenthal Family Foundation Award from The American Academy of Arts and Letters. And in other fantastic news, her story “Antarctica” from Isle of Youth has been included in both Best American Short Stories 2014 and Best American Mystery Stories 2014.

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The Isle of Youth is a mesmerizing collection of stories that are wrapped in small and large mysteries. Van den Berg’s protagonists are often young women attempting to navigate the unknown in their everyday lives – from disappearing fathers and brothers to the disorientation of failing relationships. The stories take on the styles of noir, mystery, and detective fiction, but van den Berg always brings her own, unique and sympathetic lens to her characters’ lives. Laura was generous enough to answer some of our questions about her latest story collection.

Your stories travel to so many different settings—Patagonia, Paris, Missouri, Antarctica, and Florida. Can you talk a bit about the relationship between place and plot. Or, in other words, does place become a jumping off point for you as you start constructing your narratives?

I’m interested in the way landscapes can apply pressure to characters—and how, in turn, that pressure can crack open something inside and compel a character to action. All the narrators are outsiders in the landscapes you mention, and I think the pressure of that outsider-ness, the unfamiliarity, allows them to see their own inner faultlines with a sharper clarity, to feel their loneliness more acutely.

Since we’re talking about place, I know you have lived in many different places—Florida, Baltimore, Boston to name a few—but I imagine that you’ve never been to Antarctica. Can you tell us a bit about the role of research in your fiction?

My favorite way to research is to pick up a travel guide, like Lonely Planet, and read it cover-to-cover. I pretend like I am going away on a very long trip and trying to prepare. What will I need to know? What will I want to see? What is the weather like? The landscape? This is how I researched for “Antarctica.”

That said, I had been trying to write a story set in Antarctica for years—years!—and kept failing at it. And then, in 2012, I saw a news segment on the Comandante Ferraz research base in Admiralty Bay. There was an explosion; two men were killed. The story stayed with me, and as soon as I began work on this new version, the story felt different, for two reasons:

First, I had originally tried to write from the perspective of a research scientist, but now my narrator was an outsider in Antarctica. I no longer felt limited by all that I didn’t know—outsider, I understood. Second, part of the story is set in Cambridge, place I know intimately, and that familiarity became a counterpoint to the radical foreignness of Antarctica. So I learned that the choices I made in approach and technique are just as important, if not more important, than the research when it comes to crafting a convincing world and voice.

Many of your stories focus on passive characters who are thrust into adventure, chaos, conflict, etc. via outside forces. Can you talk about how passive characters make good protagonists?

I think the passive protagonist has the potential to be particularly observant about the world around her, a kind of seer if you will. But I also think the force of inaction is often undersold. Of course, the inaction has to be rooted in something truthful about that character’s inner life, but in the right context inaction—a character’s refusal to change course, speak up, run away—can in fact be as powerful and ruinous and brutal as action in the conventional sense; I would argue that, in the fact, inaction has the potential to be quite a radical form of action.

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Your characters seem haunted in your stories — by absent parents or missing siblings or lost love. I know you’ve talked about the influence of noir and detective stories on your work, but is there a way we might see your narratives as ghost stories?

Interesting question! Yes, I think so—as you say all the characters are haunted by the missing, in one way or another, and the shadows of ghosts are hanging over them.

I know you’ve spent a bunch of time at residencies and conferences and that you keep in good touch with your friends and fellow writers from grad school. You’ve also been a contributing editor at Memorious. Can you talk a bit about the importance of community to you?

Writing can be a lonely job—you spend a lot of time working in solitude, in your own head—and so community is such an important reprieve from that isolation and I like the energy of being around people who are all engaged in their own art projects—the solidarity, the common pursuit of art, can be hopeful and motivating.

Are there some books you’ve read recently that you’ve found exciting, inspiring, challenging, and/or impressive that you’d like to share with other readers?

Yes! So many, but right now I’m reading J. M. Ledgard’s Submergence and it is insanely good—truly one of the best novels I have read in a very long time.

 For original poetry, fiction, art, interviews, and art song, visit our magazine at www.memorious.org.

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Big Loves: Andrew Ladd Discusses James Morrow

UnknownToday’s contributor to our Big Loves column is Andrew Ladd, the book reviews editor for the Ploughshares blog. His first novel, What Ends, won the AWP Prize in the Novel and is available now from New Issues Press.

For many years, I had an instant answer when people asked me about my favorite book. For many more since, I’ve mostly stopped giving it.

I fully admit that there are some silly, superficial reasons for my reticence. Like: a college friend whose literary chops I admire greatly read the book, on my recommendation, and was underwhelmed. Or: it’s generally shelved under Sci-Fi/Fantasy, and though I actually disagree with that classification, my years in an MFA program have made me wary of copping to this sort of thing. (Admit it: when I mentioned the dreaded genre you almost stopped reading.)

abaddonA slightly less silly reason for my reticence, perhaps, is that the book, James Morrow’s Blameless in Abaddon, doesn’t lend itself well to brief summary. In it, the comatose body of God is the main attraction of a Baptist-run Florida theme park, until a small-town justice of the peace named Martin Candle—distraught by a cancer diagnosis and the untimely death of his wife—decides to put the deity on trial, in the Hague, for crimes against humanity. What ensues is a satirical theology in which the prosecution’s discovery takes places on a riverboat inside God’s brain, and monks take the stand to discuss the difference between doughnuts and Heaven—among other things.

So yes, it sounds kind of hokey, rife with opportunities for clumsy didacticism. It sounds, to paraphrase someone I once described it to, like the sort of thing you would give to high school kids to get them interested in religion. And certainly, there’s a lot of exposition in it that, if I were in an MFA workshop and feeling less charitable, I would probably cut.

Yet considering the book in terms of its major plot points and/or theological content does it as much a disservice as dismissing it for being Sci-Fi/Fantasy. Better, I think, to call it Vonnegutesque, or better still to forgo such characterization altogether and appreciate more comprehensively all that James Morrow accomplishes, here and in his other books, as an author of good fiction. Because so many of those cliché things that happen to people when they really, truly, love a book? They happened to me for the first time—and in some cases the only time, even fifteen years later—when I read Blameless in Abaddon.

I re-read it, for one thing, which I never did. The only other book I can remember re-reading before that was a Hardy Boys mystery, and that was just because I was on holiday in Italy and hadn’t brought any others. Equally unusual for me, when I first read it, visiting my uncle’s house during my spring vacation, was the way I would wait impatiently for my cousin to come home from school, just so that I could re-read him whole passages, pages at a time, because I thought they were that good. And yet in grad school, by comparison, when it was basically my job to find noteworthy passages in books to share with my peers, I struggled to do so or to even see the merit in the exercise. Blameless just got to me in a way few others have.

More than anything, though, the book sticks with me because it was the first one to make me cry. Up until then, I think, I had always looked at books as light entertainment—witness The Hardy Boys. Reading about Martin Candle, though, a man so consumed with grief and rage, so desperately in search of a reason for his suffering that he ignores the real sources of solace in his life and instead hooks all his hopes, delusional, on a grand scheme that any rational person can see will end in disappointment: I was moved to tears. (And by the way, stripped away of all the Sci-Fi/Fantasy particulars, how’s that for a literary fiction plot?)

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James Morrow

Nowadays, of course, Blameless is no longer the only book I’ve quoted or re-read; I returned to Invisible Man and Crying of Lot 49, and I know I pushed passages of Franzen on unsuspecting bystanders; I recommended The Corrections to so many people it became a running joke among my friends. I got a little choked up at The Moonflower Vine, too, even if I’ve never actually cried at another book since. And these are all reasons, too—good reasons, actually—why I’m no longer so quick to tell people Blameless is my favorite book. The more I’ve read, the more I’ve found the things I loved about it elsewhere.

But your first time is always your most memorable, right? So let me say it once more, for nostalgia’s sake: Trust me. You just have to read this book.

For original poetry, fiction, interviews, and art song, please visit our magazine at www.memorious.org.

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by | March 13, 2014 · 4:26 pm

Fiction Spotlight: Contributor James Scott’s The Kept

Unknown-4Contributor James Scott’s debut novel, The Kept, has been getting outstanding reviews from The New York Times, The Washington Post, the Boston Globe, and more, as well as starred reviews from Kirkus and Publisher’s Weekly. But here at Memorious, our interest in Scott goes back to 2009/2010 when Scott’s story “Salt Air” appeared in Memorious 13. In an interview with contributing editor Laura van den Berg, who asks what he is working on at the time, Scott says, “I’m writing a novel set in 1897. It’s been a long haul.” That long haul ended this year in a rich and dense novel that is a coming-of-age story, a murder mystery, and a story of family; this is the story of a mother, Elspeth, a midwife who is a thief of children, and her journey with her 12-year-old stolen child, Caleb, who seeks to avenge the murder of the only father and siblings he has known. The novel’s settings are vivid and lasting, from the homestead the novel begins in to the corrupt town where it ends. To champion a young protagonist in his battle through a largely unforgiving world may be a familiar, albeit satisfying journey for a novel, but to simultaneously bring us into the world of the mother who is this boy’s own only through a terrible crime with violent ramifications takes an art that Scott masters. James Scott has been kind enough to answer a few questions for us about the novel.Unknown-5

What was it like to leave behind Caleb and Elspeth after spending so many years with them? Have you imagined what becomes of the characters beyond the ending of your book?

You spent so much of your mental energy and reserve so much mental space for a couple of people and then all of a sudden they’re gone– it’s strange. I’d find myself thinking, “Oh, this is something Caleb would think” or “This is something Elspeth would do” and it would make me sad, honestly. I miss them. I really do.

So many of your characters are difficult yet compelling. (I’m thinking of Jorah and Elspeth for example, but there are others.) Who did you find most challenging to create with this level of complexity?

Thank you for saying that. The toughest character to write, actually, was the one who you would expect is the closest to me: Caleb. After all, I was once a twelve year old boy in upstate New York. However, Caleb hasn’t experienced the world, and I was quite precocious, and something about depicting his survivor’s guilt at witnessing his family’s murder while maintaining his innocence and inexperience proved really difficult for me.

What drew you to the particular landscape you chose for this novel?

My grandparents lived most of their lives in upstate New York and my father bought a house on the St. Lawrence River, and on those long drives, I would read. As a teenager, I fell in love with Southern Gothic, and because I’d never been to the South, I could only picture those stories happening in a place I was familiar with: those barren stretches of the New York State Thruway. Or, rather, what I imagined took place once you got out of view of the highway.

What kind of research did you do for this book?

I saw a panel with Tom Franklin many years ago, in which he advised anyone writing historical fiction to get a Sears catalog– and he was right. Everything is in there: medicine, guns, clothes, toys. I read newspapers, and looked through a lot of photo banks and museum databases. The toughest research in every way was looking into the history of midwifery and childbirth, but I fortunately eventually found someone who helped me out immensely with all that. She was not only a midwife but a student of history.

What’s the most surprising thing that’s happened for you with this novel’s entrance into the world?

To be perfectly honest, it’s all surprising. I worked on this book for so long while purposefully ignoring what might happen when it was finished and then what might happen if it was published, that once those things happened, I had no expectations. It runs counter to how I usually am, because I usually try to map out all options and possibilities, and so it’s kind of nice to take everything as it comes.

Are you working on another novel and/or do you see a return to the short story? Can you tell us what you’re working on now?

I still write short stories in breaks in the novel action, and I think that’s how I’ll continue. I’ve started another novel, though it’s been tough to work on it with everything that’s going on, that’s set in the 1990s in Vermont.

Last question: what’s in your reading queue? And fellow debut writers our readers should be looking out for?

I loved Molly Antopol’s collection of short stories, The UnAmericans, Rachel Cantor’s A Highly Unlikely Scenario, and Rachel Urquhart’s The Visionist, all of which are debuts, and all of which are fantastic, and I’m looking forward to Jesse Donaldson’s first book, but on my to-read shelf right now is Orfeo by Richard Powers, The Last Days of California by Mary Miller, At Night We Walk in Circles by Daniel Alarcon, All That Is by James Salter, On Such a Full Sea by Chang-rae Lee, and For Today I am a Boy by Kim Fu. There’s never enough time, is there?

For original poetry, fiction, art, interviews, and art song, visit our magazine at www.memorious.org.

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10th Anniversary Celebration in Seattle!

Please join us in Seattle as we celebrate ten years of literary publishing online! We will be offering events all evening on Wednesday, February 26th at the Alibi Room, 85 Pike Street, in Seattle.(Find your way to our anniversary party by walking down Pike toward the Public market sign at the dead end. Pike turns to brick and splits- to the right you walk into the farmers’ market, to the left is the secret alley( under the theater sign) which takes you past ghost alley coffee and to Alibi bar! See you soon!)
5-7 p.m. Happy Hour with house DJ Elena Tomorowitz. Come mingle with editors, contributors, and readers!

7 p.m. Reading featuring Nina McConigley, Ed Pavlic, Rachel Richardson, and Ian Stansel

9 p.m. Reading featuring Rick Barot, Tarfia Faizullah, Diana Khoi Nguyen, and Robert Lopez

10 p.m. Dance party with guest DJs including Kevin Young and house DJ Elena Tomorowitz.

1231705_449413428505272_85284123_nRick Barot has published two collections of poetry with Sarabande Books: The Darker Fall (2002) and Want (2008). His poems have recently appeared in The New RepublicTin House, and The Threepenny Review. He has received grants from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Artist Trust of Washington, and Stanford University, where he was a Wallace Stegner Fellow and a Jones Lecturer in Poetry. He lives in Tacoma, Washington and teaches at Pacific Lutheran University and in the low-residency Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College. His poem in Memorious was selected by Mark Doty for inclusion in Best American Poetry 2012.

Tarfia-Author-Photo-Web-1024x682Tarfia Faizullah is the author of Seam (Southern Illinois University Press, 2014), winner of the 2012 Crab Orchard Series in Poetry’s First Book Award. A former Fulbright fellow, Faizullah’s honors and awards include an Associated Writers Program Intro Journals Award, a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prize, a Copper Nickel Poetry Prize, a Ploughshares’ Cohen Award, and a Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference Margaret Bridgman Scholarship in Poetry. A Kundiman fellow, she lives in Washington, DC, where she is an editor for the Asian American Literary Review and Organic Weapon Arts Chapbook Series

dianaDiana Khoi Nguyen’s poems have appeared such places as Poetry, Kenyon Review online, and The Collagist. A recipient of awards from the Key West Literary Seminar and Academy of American Poets, she’s also received scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers Conference, Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley and the Center for Book Arts.

imagesRobert Lopez is the author of two novels, Part of the World and Kamby Bolongo Mean River, and a collection of stories, Asunder. He has taught at The New School, Pratt Institute, and Columbia University and is a 2010 New York Foundation for the Arts Fellow in Fiction.

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Nina McConigley‘s debut story collection, Cowboys and East Indians, was released  in 2013 by Five Chapters. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Virginia Quarterly Review, American Short Fiction, Memorious, Slice Magazine, Asian American Literary Review, Puerto del Sol, and Forklift, Ohio.She was the 2010 recipient of the Wyoming Arts Council’s Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Writing Award and was a finalist for the 2011 Flannery O’Connor Short Fiction Award.

UnknownEd Pavlic’s recently published his fifth collection of poems, Visiting Hours at the Color Line (Milkweed). He has been awarded the Honickman First Book Prize (judged by Adrienne Rich) and is a National Poetry Series award winner, in addition to receiving fellowships from the Vermont Studio Center, the MacDowell Colony, Bread Loaf, and the W.E.B. Du Bois Institute at Harvard College.

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Rachel Richardson is the author of Copperhead (Carnegie Mellon Poetry Series). Richardson’s honors include a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, a Wallace Stegner Fellowship, the Hopwood Award, and five Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prizes. She teaches at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and lives in Greensboro.

Unknown-2Ian Stansel‘s debut story collection, Everybody’s Irish, was also released by Five Chapters in Fall 2013.His fiction has appeared in numerous literary journals, including Ploughshares,EcotoneCincinnati ReviewMemorious, Antioch ReviewSycamore Review, and others. His stories have been selected for inclusion in the 2012 and 2013 editions of the New Stories of the Midwest anthology series and shortlisted for Best American Short Stories.  He is one of the new fiction editors at Memorious, having been introduced to us as one of our contributors with his title story.

For original poetry, fiction, art, interviews, and art song, please visit our magazine at www.memorious.org.

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Big Loves: Anne Valente discusses Megan Mayhew Bergman

Today’s contributor, Anne Valente, will see her first short story collection, By Light We Knew Our Names (Dzanc Books, 2014), released in October. She is the author of the fiction chapbook, An Elegy for Mathematics (Origami Zoo Press), and her stories appear in Ninth Letter, Hayden’s Ferry Review and The Journal.

When Megan Mayhew Bergman’s debut short story collection, Birds of a Lesser Paradise (Scribner, 2012), was released I’d already preordered the book to bring with me on a weeklong spring trip through Kentucky. I’d read several of Bergman’s short stories in literary journals and I was quickly drawn not only into the fluidity of her prose but the way her stories often centered on the animal world. When Bergman’s book arrived, its teal-blue cover illustrated with a single barn owl, I tucked it into my backpack and hit the road.

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Reading proved difficult in Mammoth Cave, the first stop on the trip where I camped in the dark for two nights. But the calls of birds as the sun sank, as well as the smattering of stars that splashed the night sky without a curtain of light pollution, paved the way for the following days beyond wilderness when I would start the collection with nature fresh in my brain. I read the book in a single room at the Abbey of Gethsemani, a Trappist monastery outside of Louisville that welcomes visitors to stay for two days of solitude, quiet, and reflection. Throughout the rest of the week I would explore the Bourbon Trail, the hills of central Kentucky, and the clamor of Louisville. But during those two days of silence at Gethsemani, on the heels of immersion in caves and bird calls, I started and finished Megan Mayhew Bergman’s first collection with a heightened sense of the connections it makes between the natural world and our own human lives.

Across twelve stories in Birds of a Lesser Paradise, Bergman offers varying glimpses of what loss means to twelve women in different stages of life, their grief tied to the animal world and its lack of separation from human biology. Grief comes to these women in the form of lost parents, estranged daughters, distant partners, and dying pets, each loss linked invariably to the struggle and impermanence of nature. Most of Bergman’s characters are solitary creatures, either fiercely independent or made lonely by those leaving them, this sovereignty at the core of each story compromised only by love – what binds us to one another, a biological need, and what change will break us apart, inevitable as nature where nothing stays the same.

Many of the protagonists in Birds of a Lesser Paradise resist in varying ways: they don’t want to love others as much as they do.  In “Saving Face,” after a wolf attack disfigures a veterinarian and her sense of her own beauty, she learns to keep her distance from others. In “Night Hunting,” a young woman moves from Utah to Vermont with her mother, who is dying of cancer and wants to spend her last months near her family. Just as the natural world is full of predators, so too are our human lives. We are the prey of heartache, of human failing, of disease and old age. We will all leave one another in the end.  As the narrator of the collection’s final story (“The Two-Thousand Dollar Sock”) asks her husband, a boxer, as they care for an ailing dog, “How do you step into the ring, knowing how bad it’s going to hurt?”

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Megan Mayhew Bergman

The grace of Bergman’s collection is not that her characters stay outside of the ring, independent and solitary, but that what binds them to others inevitably pulls them in. When the father in “Birds of a Lesser Paradise” has a heart attack, the daughter who has accompanied him on North Carolina swamp treks to spot the elusive ivory-billed woodpecker watches over him and resolves: “I wished for things to stay the same. I wished for stillness everywhere, but I opened up the rest of the bedroom windows and let the world in.” The heart of each story lies in knowing that nature is as inconstant as anything, that we inhabit a world where everything changes, but that we carry the constancy of love for one another regardless.

In the opening story, “Housewifely Arts,” a woman and her seven-year-old son seek out an African grey parrot that, in imitation, still carries the voice of her deceased mother. I read this first story by lamplight as the sun dropped behind Gethsemani’s hills, including the story’s final lines where the woman recalls of her mother, “My heart, she’d said. I can turn it off. For years, I’d believed her.  But I know the truth now. What maniacs we are – sick with love, all of us.” Inside the Abbey and its silence, these lines broke me in half.

I’ve read Bergman’s collection again since my trip through Kentucky, its stories resonating in new and beautiful ways. I’ve learned unexpected routes through their words by reading them with students and hearing what resonates. I’ve kept Bergman’s book on my writing desk for inspiration when I’m trying to wade through my own work’s connections to the animal world. Each of Bergman’s stories is a meditation, transcendent to read, and I can’t wait to read more of her work.

For original poetry, fiction, interviews, art, and art song, visit our website at www.memorious.org.

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More Anticipated Books of 2014!

We were thrilled to see that so many of our readers celebrated and shared our first post about contributor books, which lists ten prize-winning books due out in 2014. But that list was by no means comprehensive, and we want to make sure that you also know about some of our other contributors’ forthcoming books, including a few books that have since won publication prizes, and, of course, including the fine gentlemen we publish! (In case you missed it, our last list was all women.) Cheers to our wonderful and talented contributors whose work is going to continue to make 2014 a great year!                                                                                                                    - Rebecca Morgan Frank, Editor-in-Chief

Contributor Jake Adam York’s posthumous poetry collection, Abide, is forthcoming from Southern Illinois University Press this March. Preview some of these poems, including the title poem, in issue 20.

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Issue 21′s Ellen Litman’s first novel, Mannequin Girl (Norton) is forthcoming in April. Read an excerpt from the novel published in our latest issue.

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Issue 18‘s Oliver de la Paz’s fourth collection of poetry, Post Subject: A Fable (University of Akron Press), is  forthcoming in August 2014. 

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Sally Wen Mao, another issue 18 contributor, has a debut collection of poems, Mad Honey Symposium, due out in May 2014 as the winner of Alice James Books’ Kinereth Gensler Award.

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Issue 11 contributor Mary Biddinger’s third poetry collection, A Sunny Place with Adequate Water (Black Lawrence Press), is due out in May.

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You don’t have to anticipate  Issue 17′s Sean Hill’s Dangerous Goods: his second collection of poems is out this month with Milkweed Press.

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Issue 13 contributor Aaron Belz’s third collection of poems, Glitter Bomb, will be released by Persea in May 2014.

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Issue 20 contributor Jericho Brown’s The New Testament (Copper Canyon Press) will be released in August 2014.

Contributor Karin Gottshall‘s second collection, The River Won’t Hold You, has been selected as the winner of the 2014 OSU Press/The Journal Wheeler Prize for Poetry and is due out this year.

Issue 18′s Anne Valente’s debut story collection, Light We Knew Our Names (Dzanc Books),  is forthcoming in October. Sample one of her short stories,”Mollusk, Membrane, Human Heart,”  here.

More contributor book news can be found in our Anticipated Books of 2014 list.

For original poetry, fiction,art, and art song, please visit our magazine at www.memorious.org.

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