Eavan Boland gives the Hopwood Lecture, Hasanthika Sirisena conflictedly tours the sites of Sri Lanka’s bloody civil war, Carolyne Wright introduces the work of Ruby Rahman, Sara J. Grossman contemplates ordinary bodies and Walt Whitman’s “The Wound-Dresser,” David Scobey talks about why we need the humanities.
Fiction from Paige Cooper, B.G. Firmani, James Morrison, Brenda Peynado,Sharon Pomerantz, and Karen Wunsch
Poetry from Timothy Liu, Ruby Rahman (translated by Carolyne Wright with Syed Manzoorul Islam), Danez Smith, and Xiao Kaiyu (translated by Christopher Lupke)
Michigan Quarterly Review now comes in electronic form as a downloadable PDF–available by the issue or as a subscription. In honor of this new format, we are offering a limited-time subscription special. Celebrate with us by signing up to enjoy MQR all year long in either print or electronic format: One year for $15 (regularly $25), or two years for $25 (regularly $45). (International subscriptions are $5 extra.) Offer ends Friday, October 23.
Going to be in the Ann Arbor area this weekend? Come see us Sunday at the Kerrytown Bookfest — we’ll be at Table 43, handing out free magnets and selling (cheap!) back issues of the journal.
And while you’re there, be sure to check out all the great panels and readings that will be going on all day.
See you there —
* nonfiction by Norma Crawford Tomlinson * Dear Cora, I sat down to read this evening, but somehow my thoughts kept wandering to you, and I’ve put up my book to talk to you. I feel so queer tonight, as if something was going to happen. It’s been coming on all this afternoon. Now to make it perfect I spose that some calamity should occur. But you know I’m not very superstitious.
* nonfiction by Laura Glen Louis from MQR 54:2 (Spring 2015) * When you sing in community, and every singer is dead in the center of the pitch, a hole opens up that everyone can pass through. On the other side is no magical land, no lush gardens, no brilliant light, but there is a palpable sense of other space that is resonance.