Vivian Gornick from The End of the Novel of Love

“Romantic love now seems a yearning to dive down into feeling and come up magically changed . . . The idea of love as a means of illumination—in literature as in life—now comes as something of an anticlimax.”


Installation view of joan jonas’s ‘they come to us without a word (fish)’, 2014-2015
the US pavilion at the 56th international art exhibition – la biennale di venezia




Dan Chiasson on Terrance Hayes:

Racial trauma is everywhere in Hayes’s work, instantiated by his personal ghosts—an absent father, a mother who worked as a prison guard, an array of family troubles and damage. But he is brilliantly boxed in by his style, which elates in the language it finds to express tragedy. Hayes has called himself “a gray-area, between-area person”; his poems refuse black-and-white emotions. I have no idea how he works, but the poems give the impression of spontaneity; even if he labors over them, the result is a wild ride without an off switch, an unbroken verbal arc propelled by his accelerating actions of mind


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