Julia Kornberg & Jack Rockwell
The West might want us to think of ourselves as different and peripheral . . . they might urge us to portray images that fulfill their prejudices about Argentina, [but] we can have a more universalist approach and write, essentially, about whatever we want, and it will still be Argentine literature.
Life doesn’t make sense to us, disastrous and uncomfortable events happen suddenly, and without warning. It only makes sense, then, that stories should do the same.
Maybe for the reader, the book itself is like a substitute for a crime, or a certain kind of violence which might otherwise have been turned on the world somehow.
Whenever I see that “ever since I was a little girl I knew I wanted to be on the computer a lot” meme, I’m like, lol, yes, I truly did.
The situation seemed ripe for mining a precious metal known as “poignancy,” the urgency of the [writers’] strong desires to fulfill their ambitions and the wrenching back of that desire in the form of rejection.
The story that we tell of the body is so often something given to us by other people. A lot of queer fairy tales and queer myths explore rewriting these narratives of bodily identity and ownership, or the gaps between physical and felt body.
Tiffany Morris & Jessica Johns
We obviously had a relationship to this land, and the fact that it’s a city now doesn’t change that I have a relationship to how land operates here. Even though cities are colonial and cities are devouring land, I still have a relationship to what exists here.
I began by trying to write about the ship, but very quickly realized I needed to write to the ship—to address it.
A Queen Without a Country: Nate Lippens
I knew from a young age that language was a weapon and I wanted to be able to fend for myself in that realm. Not merely defend or rebuff what came at me, but to draw blood.
I kept dreaming of a book where there was genuine friendship between mother and daughter.