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Raymond Carver became a short story writer for a surprisingly practical reason.

When we talk about Raymond Carver, we talk about the short story. Despite having published eight poetry collections before his death (33 years ago to the day), he’s known for works like “Cathedral” and “Why Don’t You Dance.” But, as it turns out, Carver wrote short stories out of practicality, not pure love of the form. In his 1983 Art of Fiction interview...

There’s a new Buffy the Vampire Slayer sequel coming, but will it be any good?

Into every generation, a remake is born. Today I learned that in January 2022—just ahead of the 25th anniversary of the show’s premiere—Disney Hyperion will publish the first novel in a new YA trilogy set in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer universe. In Every Generation was written by Kendare Blake, the New York Times-bestselling author of the Three Dark...

The obviously fake Cormac McCarthy Twitter account has been verified, for some reason.

There are two things Twitter loves: ruining people’s lives and lavishing praise upon incredibly anodyne humor. I’m pleased to report that this is a blog about the latter! Over the weekend, a Twitter account claiming to be that of Cormac McCarthy set timelines ablaze with its (allegedly) McCarthy-ish musings about how Twitter is a waste of time. The...

Lit Hub Daily: August 2, 2021

TODAY: In 1942, Isabel Allende is born.    “I get serious whenever I go in the hood to teach poetry because I know it’s me sitting in those seats.” Ali Black on unlearning craft and writing reliable poems. | Lit Hub Poetry Surviving this ongoing pandemic “is a project as philosophical as it is political,” writes Benjamin Bratton, so how can...

How Philosophy Failed the Pandemic, Or: When Did Agamben Become Alex Jones?

As yet another wave of infection blooms and the bitter assignment of vaccine passes becomes a reality, societies are being held hostage by a sadly familiar coalition of the uninformed, the misinformed, the misguided, and the misanthropic. They are making vaccine passports, which no one wants, a likely necessity. Without their noise and narcissism, vaccination...

Talking How We Talk: On Exploring the Poetic Plenitude of Black Life

I get serious whenever I go in the hood to teach poetry because I know it’s me sitting in those seats. I can play one of two roles when I’m teaching: I can either be the teacher the kids forget because my lesson was wack or I can be the one they remember because my lesson was exactly what they needed. Poetry can be a hard sale to Black kids who could...

Blackness on the Margins: What Ann M. Martin Asked of Jessi in The Baby-Sitters Club

I remember the day my boxed set of the Baby-Sitters Club books arrived. It was my sixth grade culmination and I was adorned in my Sunday best: a flower dress my mother had sewn that was covered with pink and lavender flowers; cream stockings; and black patent leather heels. (They were my first pair of heels, and you couldn’t tell me that those one-inch...

The Astrology Book Club: What to Read This Month, Based on Your Sign

With all the good books that come out each month, it can be hard to decide what to read (or, if you’re anything like the people erstwhile of the Literary Hub office, now of our homes and Slack, what to read first). There are lots of good reasons to pick one book over another, but one we’ve never really explored before here at Lit Hub is . . . astrology....

Reinventing the Transformative Vision of America in Nabokov’s Cross-Country Chronicles

KINGSTON PIKE, TENNESSEE By June, I’d started putting the pieces in motion. I went to Tennessee to renew my license and borrow my mother’s Camry. I fished my old butterfly net—a retractable aluminum pole with a hoop-shaped frame and a mesh bag—out of the closet, sublet my Arizonan apartment, sketched out a route in black Sharpie on a AAA map, told...

In Memory of My Parents, the Late Gabriel García Márquez and Mercedes Barcha

Most of my father’s drafts of work-in-progress were salvaged by my mother behind his back, because he was strictly against showing or preserving unfinished work. Many times during our childhood, my brother and I were summoned to sit on the floor of his study and help him rip up entire previous versions and throw them out—an unhappy image, I am sure,...

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