Photo by Guy Freeman. “It doesn’t have to be unfeministto carry them across the bridge if you meant to spend the morningthis way, and know he’s savoring the gesture (and will wash the bowl). . . .“ —from “Across the Bridge Noodles,” Volume 60, Issue 3 (Fall 2019) Tell us about one . . .
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The Massachusetts Review presents the latest Working Titles e-book: AMOUR: FIELDS OF BATTLE, FIELDS OF LOVE, a novella by Véronique Tadjo, translated and with an introduction by Carolyn Shread. Available now! “One anonymous night he found himself in a tidy village. The bus came to a stop at the end of a long road that . . .
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Translated from Spanish by James Badcock The hall is packed as people wait expectantly for the arrival of the bard. We snaffle a couple of free seats, surrounded by the young and not so young who pay us no mind as they gaze intently at the black curtain. This theatre was once . . .
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“In Long Island, I prepared to do a mitzvah. My breakdancing crew didn’t ask me about the bombing in Dallas yesterday—the news more front-page than the San Diego ICE raids or the Dominican kid shot in the Bronx last weekend. Just as I didn’t ask which of my boys were undocumented. Maybe . . .
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A review The Son of Black Thursday by Alejandro Jodorowsky, tanslated by. Megan McDowell, Restless Books Alejandro Jodorowsky has been alive for nearly a century. For at least half of that time he has been a jarring creative presence in arthouse cinema, which is a difficult milieu within which to be jarring. His films such . . .
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(Hamburg, Germany. Early estimates report over 50,000 protesters today, participating in the Global Climate Strike.) In a recent, as yet unpublished work, the Italian writer and activist Erri De Luca salutes the youth of today and welcomes the rise and return of a generation of activists: “Today’s youth know the risks they . . .
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“My dream awakens after sleep. I cannot swearthese are my hands. The night is probing the airfor bodies asking a little grace from the watery moon.”—from “Trying to Pray,” Volume 60, Issue 2 (Summer 2019) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.As an undergraduate I took a class with Mary . . .
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“When I shook hands with himhis hand remained in my handthat’s how he is, generous, I told myselfas I tried to get rid of his warm handthat grasped my own ever more tightly” —From “Two Snails Stuck to My Cheeks,” by Matei Visniec, translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Lidia Vianu, Summer 2019 (Vol. . . .
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“it’s true that we’d been very closebut never did I imagine thatI’d see him flayed right before my eyeswith his heart tumbling down to my feetjust because we were going to say goodbye” —From “Two Snails Stuck to My Cheek,” by Matei Visniec, translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Lidia Vianu, Summer . . .
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The lake moves, blue to blue. Runnels, droplets,oar-lifted slap dull chimes against gunwales. The blue dress and white kerchief are a young womancrossing what she can’t escape. She forcesa calm, makes a quiet pool of herself. —from “A Finnish Lake,” Summer 2019 (Vol. 60, Issue 2) Is there a city or place, real or . . .
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