[Zeynab’s] film asks audience members to change how they view the displaced. But to do this they must change how they view themselves, and they don’t want to. So, they twist in their seats, feeling scrutinized and provoked.

This special issue of the FULL STOP QUARTERLY will aim to hold folklore as a prism through which to view connection, the self, and the future. . . . It will explore folklore in and as literature, as process, and as performance.

Men taught me that I was indestructible early on, and continue to so frequently to the point that I understand now that I am immortal. When will men learn that I am indestructible, and they are the ones destroying themselves?

Through evocative prose and incisive characterization, Azem has performed a small miracle: a short novel that powerfully scrutinizes every element of contemporary Israeli society, and the illusory narratives driving the endeavor.

[Zeynab’s] film asks audience members to change how they view the displaced. But to do this they must change how they view themselves, and they don’t want to. So, they twist in their seats, feeling scrutinized and provoked.

Through evocative prose and incisive characterization, Azem has performed a small miracle: a short novel that powerfully scrutinizes every element of contemporary Israeli society, and the illusory narratives driving the endeavor.

Everyone (or almost everyone) seems to be perfectly happy living in a chess utopia.

Writing and photography together . . . become a way . . . to gesture at absence, to make clearer the shape of what is missing in order to more fully read the photograph.

Men taught me that I was indestructible early on, and continue to so frequently to the point that I understand now that I am immortal. When will men learn that I am indestructible, and they are the ones destroying themselves?

A city, and also a language, is not just a product of the literal body, but of the emotional and conceptual possibilities of consciousness itself.

I don’t think I described friendship as a contract; our society already has.

I’m much more concerned with character than I am with crime: with the impact of the events – the crime, if you want – on the characters, rather than the crime itself.

All of Kluge’s books contribute to one large, ongoing project to build up a toolkit of resistant feelings that readers can use to plot their own ways out.

Fiction that imagines the world from its so-called “peripheries” may in fact upend the way we perceive the concept of the “center” itself, reorienting the weight of worldliness towards the edge, the margin, the contact zone.

As [Mersal’s] recursive and often discontinuous writing attests, the drive toward progress tends to entail an imperfect erasure, whose traces might resurface—as if through a palimpsest—if only one cared to look.

The body can guide the process of its own translation if its author will let it. An expert at adaptation, it already knows how to exist on the page.

This special issue of the FULL STOP QUARTERLY will aim to hold folklore as a prism through which to view connection, the self, and the future. . . . It will explore folklore in and as literature, as process, and as performance.

In times like ours, times of fracture, depravity and upheaval—times which are really not that different than any other time on earth, except for the speed and scale at which violence is exercised—what is the value of art?

Read the introduction to our latest issue of the Full Stop Quarterly, “Literary Dis(-)appearances in (Post)colonial Cities.”

Get to know our 2024 Full Stop Editorial Fellows, Keely Shinners and Annalise Peters!