In honor of Professor Nicholas Delbanco, and on the occasion of his retirement, Fritz Swanson and Wolverine Press have printed a chapbook edition of his very first short story, “Composition,” originally published in 1979. There are 250 copies in the edition, and 10 of them have been set aside for FWR’s fundraiser.
Fiction Writers Review hosts its annual fundraiser from now until December 21st
Richard Fulco talks with Ken Wheaton about his newest novel, Sweet as Cane, Salty as Tears, as well as influences, whether he identifies as a Southern Writer, the role of humor in his work, and more.
Dean Bakopoulos on Nicholas Delbanco’s generosity as a mentor and a teacher, as well as the gift of being offered a place at the table.
Writing in appreciation of Nicholas Delbanco’s short story “Departure,” Nina Buckless says, “We are offered a portrait in fragments, which collectively captures a family separated by the American landscape but held together by its matriarch.”
Valerie Laken on Nicholas Delbanco’s role as a mentor, and giving young writers the permission to dream: “He’s made a career of bringing together, supporting, and celebrating writers, and in doing that he made them all believe—not just in themselves, but in the value of literature itself.”
Travis Holland on Nicholas Delbanco as a master teacher, as well as Delbanco’s approach to running a writing workshop that matters: “This is good, now let’s make it better.”
Elizabeth Kostova on the lasting influence of Nicholas Delbanco, both in her work and in developing the habits of a writer. “We learned from him about the importance of persistence, as much as about prose style or character development.”
John Dermot Woods talks with Kristen Iskandrian about his new book, The Baltimore Atrocities, and the way in which text and image intersects in his work, saying, “I wanted to draw pictures that would extend the stories, further complicate them, contribute an essential narrative element that the stories could not exist without.” They also discuss the pleasure of writing on trains, balancing disciplines, exploring issues of place, and more.
“Zambreno’s explicit referencing of not just film tropes in general, but Noh theater and French cinema and American plays in particular, immediately raises questions about agency, artifice, and images of women. And in the reflective process that follows, a reader might naturally find themselves asking: who is the director of our lives?”
