“Each story presents the embodiment of a different performer, and each presents a concept you could spin into a metaphor for something about contemporary American life.” Shawn Andrew Mitchell reviews Mark Meyer’s debut story collection, Aerialists, out now from Bloomsbury.
From the Archives: The title of Jim Shepard’s 2011 collection, You Think That’s Bad, could also be a creative mantra. Here the veteran writer discusses his research process, the apocalyptic state of the world, the (possible) irrelevancy of literature to the apocalypse, his epic mustache—and other matters of importance.
Benjamin Percy’s fourth book and second novel, Red Moon, takes everything enjoyable about Percy’s fiction and cranks up the dials. It’s a rollicking, tightly plotted, hirsute good read that takes the classic werewolf trope and drops it into a modern Homeland-esque political landscape.
In Part II of Shawn Andrew Mitchell’s interview with Charles Yu, the two writers continue their conversation by discussing the management of time in and out of fiction, Realism, and human-to-robot consciousness transfer.
Shawn Andrew Mitchell beams in from the future of a quiet Sunday morning in South Korea to chat with Charles Yu on a quiet Saturday evening in Los Angeles. In Part I of their conversation the two writers discuss the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, consensual grammar, favorite gadgets, and more.
Fresh from a relationship with a feminist scholar, I was on guard against Shann Ray’s American Masculine before I even cracked its spine. With a title like that, I thought, you’d better have a gay man in Chelsea, a drag queen in Flint, a straight man watching a hired man wash his yacht, a man living out of the back of a Volvo in a Wal-Mart parking lot, a Hispanic man washing dishes, a Hispanic man climbing the corporate ladder; you’d better provide one heckova Whitmanian catalog of Masculinity in the U.S. of A. My suspicions only deepened as I […]
Friends say they saw our bromance bloom. I took them aside and said, admiringly, “that Nick Ostdick is alright.” Nick took them aside and said, wistfully, “Shawn seems like a cool dude.” There was a beer here, a beer there, always with chaperones. Then mano-a-mano happy hours that spilled into dinners that spilled into the manliest of frozen desserts that spilled into more happy hours. His fiancé called me his man-wife and warned me not to take him away. I was a groomsman in his wedding; he listened to my unnecessary dating life bemoanings. When I left for a semester […]