by J.T. Price

On Des Moines, the Final Play of Denis Johnson


Somehow, it was as if the playwright had invited the audience to his own wake, with the strictest of instructions that everybody for crying out loud have a good time.

James Hannaham


I’m interested in that murky zone where the truth is so outrageous as to be unbelievable, and in tackling the challenge of translating that sense of barely real truth into fiction without sacrificing its impact.