How does one write a novel about things that are not there? About the missing, the lost, the absent? Or is this the only kind of writing there is?
[Whitmore] wrote a classic queer book that has fortunately been given a new life and retains all its powerful weirdness
Realistic Fiction – Anton Solomonik
Realistic Fiction offers a playful interrogation of genre and storytelling, and provides knowing insight into the trap of normative gender.
In a Deep Blue Hour — Peter Stamm
“In a Deep Blue Hour, the latest novel by Swiss writer Peter Stamm, unfolds in . . . [the] interstice between documentary and narrative film, reality and fiction, memory and dream.”
She wrestles and keens, freezes and thaws in private, in public, and alongside a group of people “with whom a shared sense of intimacy and care earned from years of study together makes possible a warm way of thinking.”
Ṣẹ̀gílọlà Arómirẹ́ Ògìdán – Àrẹ̀mọ Yusuf Àlàbí Balógun
Her anger lives in the syntax, in sentences that run long, breathless, or suddenly halt.
Sakina’s Kiss – Vivek Shanbhag
SAKINA’S KISS is an attempt to travel between two […] islands, the village Gothic and the urban global
Things a Bright Boy Can Do – Michael Chang
Chang revels in the chaotic energy of contemporary randomness
Motherhood and its Ghosts — Iman Mersal, translated from the Arabic by Robin Moger
Forced into memory after becoming a mother herself, Mersal seeks to arrive at an understanding of who her mother was in order to understand who she will become.
Heart Lamp — Banu Mushtaq, Translated from Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi
One of the most inventive and profound aspects of Heart Lamp is how Mushtaq layers these multiple points of view: in “Black Cobras” alone there are at least six, most of them the perspectives of women and girls. A few stories are told in the first person, but most of the time the close third-person narrator moves between those who have all the power and those who have none.