From Kevin Brockmeier's The Ghost Variations
Winners Selected by judges Carmen Maria Machado, Leslie Jamison, Ada Limón, & Meg Lionel Murphy Fiction: Lady Sings by Mant Bares Nonfiction: To Be Loved by Chloe Vassot Poetry: Cricket Noon by Tennessee Hill Visual Art: Tapadas, Saints and Other Heroines by Kathy Bruce Fiction Finalists Black Girl Inside Outpatient by Maya Pearson Coronation by […]
Field Notes, Staff Picks,
Caught up in the everyday dread and surreality of life in quarantine, it can be hard to remember the beauty of our past lives or the small joys the world has to offer in the strangest, most idiosyncratic ways.
Arts & Culture, Field Notes,
In the name of productivity during social distancing, Porter House Review is republishing Matt Bell’s first exercise from his Writing Exercise Newsletter, which is based on a sentence from Carmen Maria Machado’s story, “The Husband Stitch.”
As in this conflation of sound causes a parallel of death.
As in the body flattens on concrete. As in the body roasts on tar.
Calves ache from the stillness. The tongue swells, overfilling the mouth.
This is a box step, forward and backward.
Glancing at the appearing town you take a night rush of january air
though it might never be the same
How do you start over when the world ends? There doesn’t have to be an apocalypse for life as you know it to tilt. These days, we wake up to headlines that read from a dystopian novel. And The Amateurs, the debut novel by Liz Harmer, has something to say to those who shelter in place about staying put, about love, and also about letting go.