February 19, 2015
At last our new online purchasing system is up and running. Once again you can subscribe to MQR online--there's still time to order our Winter issue--and for the first time you can now order individual issues online as well.
Prepare for the next blast of cold and snow--browse our online store and order enough fascinating reading to last you till spring. Then curl up with MQR and your beverage...
December 10, 2014
* nonfiction by John Felstiner from MQR 53:4 Fall 2014 * I lift up a slim item of frayed, folded pages: a letter, an airmail letter. It’s World War II V ∙ ∙ ∙ — MAIL which I remember well, though less intimately than I recall the newsprint, foil, flimsy War Ration Books, V-Garden carrots, countless crayon sketches of US and RAF planes soaring above flame-drenched landscapes. Also an earl...
October 15, 2014
* poetry by Kara Van De Graf from MQR 53:3, Summer 2014 *
From the grandmother of my grandmother, it lives
at the footboard of the bed, passed down to me
by my own mother. As a child, I traced
the blonde-wood petals of flowers, the garden
etched with dark walnut vines. And below,
near a lip of scrollwork, two narrow drawers kept
in check by a key. It was only when I ...
August 15, 2014
* nonfiction by Marcin Otto, from Stefanie Wortman's essay in MQR 53:3 Summer 2014 * In early 1940, several months into the Nazi occupation, Elektoralna found itself in the middle of a huge quarter called the Warsaw Ghetto, surrounded by a tall wall. Eleonora was Jewish but apparently she abandoned the flat with her children and stayed outside of the Ghetto, concealing their Jewish identities. In ...
March 4, 2015
by Hanae Jonas / 0 Comments
Moving to Ann Arbor at 24 is the opposite of moving to New York at 17. I go into no wilderness of feeling. I tell my friends and parents how pleasant things are. I keep saying the word “pleasant.” For a few months, I work diligently on revising my poems from the last couple of years, putting the right sheen on old woods. When it’s time to write something new, pleasantness has put me at a loss.…
Ideation should always be this concise and rewarding. Many of those maps I have kept and found again and again. They end up, intact, as a bookmark for Flaubert, or at the bottom of my bedside table drawer under loose change and a pocket knife. As urgent as the notes are made, their meaning, for the life of me, has been all but lost. They are still so compelling that one can make a painting directly from them. My own thoughts dial around their archaic symbols and half-words, the key of which had been pantomimed on a cold snowy walk or cupped into a rolled-down car window—If you see this, you will know. …
February 26, 2015
by Leah Falk / 0 Comments
A few years ago, I was teaching a middle school writing elective at a well-regarded summer camp for the arts. The students in this class were not primarily interested in writing: they were there as young musicians, or dancers, or studying “general arts” which usually meant their well-off parents thought it more edifying for them to draw with charcoal and write poems and create spliced-together musical theater out of the latest pop songs than to let them spend the summer watching TV and lighting matches in the backyard.…
February 24, 2015
by Elizabeth Dickey / 0 Comments
Do we remember Diogenes of Sinope? Diogenes—the Greek cynic who famously wandered around holding a lantern up to all the men he passed in the marketplace, asking them, “Hey, are you full of shit?” Yes? We remember this? Good. Because that’s essentially the plot of A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (Vice Films, 2014), only we’re in “Bad City,” Iran and it’s always nighttime and Diogenes has been recast as a vampire, and she—the titular “Girl” (Sheila Vand)—is dope as hell.…