“The biography became, in effect, two stories: one, in which Harss deftly traces the formative patterns of Ratmansky’s distinctive and prolific career, and a second shadow story, in which Harss herself grapples with the unfolding conflict, the changing international landscape of the ballet world, and, most compellingly, the shifting identity of her subject.”
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.
“I see that. In one sense it’s a war because of all the cheating, plunder, rape, and so forth, but it’s different from all other wars because it’s a religious war and therefore pleasing unto God.”
“First of all, let me say: Chinelo Okparanta, you have my heart. For daring to write a novel that tackles so many taboos – queer love, religion, politics – all wrapped in the language of African idiom and folklore.”
Listen to this neo-noir short story that features the Iowa State Police, a displaced bounty hunter, a broken farmer, and his local cop acquaintance caught in a Mexican stand-off in a gasoline-soaked corn field.
My Afro-kwea Journal, entry #2: The Death of Vivek Oji By Akwaeke Emezi
New fiction from Dez Walker
New fiction from Garner Behnke.
I like the warm dusty tar soft on my feet. I like staring straight up into the vast reeling sky, into the fast wheeling birds. I like when the birds land and speak to me with gentle soothing voices. I like the soft sounds they make when they all settle together. I like to watch people from my roof, to see them washing over the sidewalk in waves—coming together, breaking apart.
When the plague comes I don’t go into the city any more, because it’s all shut down. The crowds on the sidewalk below are sparse and their waves veer away from each other.
The late afternoon light was too beautiful for that moment; out of place in the dreariness of that corner of Abidjan, tucked away among the drab offices of the business district. It reminded me of summer nights in Cape Town when the sun is so seductive you can’t bear the thought of going indoors.
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