* fiction by Brenda Peynado from MQR 54:3 (Summer 2015) *
When the American ships arrived, they looked like giant white women swimming towards us on the horizon. American marines shouted orders from the crooks of the ships’ pale elbows, readied guns in the corner of vicious smiles. I was pushing Pablito’s stroller on el Malecón, and the people around me said, Look, what is that? But I knew. I had seen them before, decades ago in the first invasion.
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.
* nonfiction by Andrew D. Cohen from MQR 54:2 (Spring 2015) * I’d been wandering for the better part of two hours through the outskirts of Lviv, or Lvov, or Lemberg or Lwów—it was hard to know what to call this city, given how many countries and empires had conquered, reconquered, occupied, reoccupied, or otherwise staked claim to it—looking for a concentration camp called Janowska, where upwards of 200,000 Jews, including, possibly, my grandmother’s older brother, Pinchas, had been worked to death or shot, unless they’d somehow survived all that and been put on a train to Belzec where they were taken care of once and for all.