Laura Raicovich works as president and executive director of the Queens Museum. Her book At the Lightning Field is out this April from Coffee House Press. She is the author of A Diary of Mysterious Difficulties (Publication Studio), a book based on Viagra and Cialis spam, and is an editor of Assuming Boycott: Resistance, Agency, and Cultural Production (OR Books)
FEB 2017 | Fiction
Upon waking, I brush my teeth, wash my face, cut my finger nails, pluck a few stray eyebrows hairs, take a shower. Quickly glance at the email that has come in overnight, and at Facebook and Twitternew spaces of maintenance.
MAR 2014 | Fiction
The sun beamed down from a cloudless sky and temperatures sometimes rose into the mid-60s. Dora said to herself, What surprises them wouldnt surprise me, and that gave her an outside chance, anyway.
MAY 2014 | Fiction
“Is Francis here?” Dora asked in a trembling voice. “The idea of being back here, in London, in this apartment, before him in any form was unthinkable even two weeks ago. I even reproached him in my dreams for not having me back sooner. It is a good deal more terrifying than I can explain, for all of its mundane routine.”
NOV 2013 | Fiction
Well then, in this mysterious little difficulty, we were stuck in quest of an opinion. What did I really know? Where were we really?
FEB 2014 | Fiction
I could feel the pressure of it all falling on my neck, my back, my ribs. For the moment it was too much, and I thought about crying out. This association with our brother Francis, little by little, was crushing for me, when for her it meant little.
APR 2014 | Fiction
Mrs. Micawbers took a long pull at her punch. Im not ready to die. Sometimes, Ive thought that I would like to die at home. Seeing you, my child, puts a little strength back in these old bones. You give energy to a sour and tried friend.
SEPT 2014 | Critics Page
Do I stand in darkness or in light? Do I speak or am I silent? When I do speak, how are my words received? Where does my power and privilege lie?
DEC 13-JAN 14 | Fiction
Making love is hardly material, she said. Aside from any conceivable motive of affectionate devotion I thought as she rambled on. Finally the interrogation was complete. It had been several weeks and I had waited her out.