When it comes to art forms that are inherently long by nature, are we still able to collect meaning skimming from a series of shallow pools, or does a worthwhile experience still necessitate a deep dive?  One answer may be Madeline Cash’s debut novel, Lost Lambs, a family-saga that holds as many characters and storylines as a one-minute scroll of a newsfeed.

The written word is having a moment. Substacks proliferate my inbox, bookstores are resurging throughout the city, print-only magazines are back in circulation. But some days, the sudden accumulation of writing has left literature feeling dull, less engaged. It has left me “wordsick,” to borrow a term from Lara Mimosa Montes’s new book, The Time of the Novel, wanting writing to do more.