The speaker, a person split between Ojibwe and European lineages, is uninterested in narratives that paint the colonization of the North American continent as a sentimental tale of innocence lost and civilization found. How would the earth remember?

Would anyone watch basketball if it had no ethical component — i.e., if it were without mistakes, without some intimation of the fact that the players are as fragile as we are? Could our excitement for the game withstand a lack of blunderers, choke-artists, and scapegoats? Would there be such a thing as a game if no one ever missed?

An inheritance, then, is just another way by which fathers and sons disappoint and misunderstand each other.

How do you like THEM apples?

The speaker, a person split between Ojibwe and European lineages, is uninterested in narratives that paint the colonization of the North American continent as a sentimental tale of innocence lost and civilization found. How would the earth remember?

An inheritance, then, is just another way by which fathers and sons disappoint and misunderstand each other.

This novel is a captivating, fable-like story about a family that lives each day the same as the last in order to suspend the passage of time. It is a quirky, beautiful, and warmly humorous reflection on how the fear of our own mortality affects the way that we live our lives.

Mainly I want you to finish the review thinking things like, Hm, maybe I should read that book, or Maybe I won’t read it, but at least I have a clear sense of it! (And, most important of all, Wow, that guy knows a lot about the New York Mets!)

I’ve always marveled at the architectural lexicon and the placid furiousness with which it names every feature, every ornament, every force.

I think the South has yet to reconcile itself to its own complexity. It’s not exclusive to the region, but I think we have this sense that we need to hold onto one single narrative.

In a way, Jobs is a homage to that pulp sensibility within which all the different modes of genre writing intersected in one insanity-producing cauldron.

I like my characters complicated. People are complicated.

Would anyone watch basketball if it had no ethical component — i.e., if it were without mistakes, without some intimation of the fact that the players are as fragile as we are? Could our excitement for the game withstand a lack of blunderers, choke-artists, and scapegoats? Would there be such a thing as a game if no one ever missed?

Blood you can wash off. But not whiteness. It’s underneath the blood.

When we try to flip through any one of the volumes lining the desert island’s shore, we find that its pages have been bleached by sun and surf.

Think of how it must feel to lose everything you’ve ever worked for to the showy unpredictability of a nature growing over the millennia. No one is ever safe.

How do you like THEM apples?

An excerpt from our new book, Full Stop: The Book.

No humans were harmed in the making of this book trailer.

Full Stop: The Book is a celebration of five years of wandering in the dark, occasionally stubbing our toe on something, but always feeling for a light switch.