FICTION: This BookBy Sabrina Seelig
Some books are meant to be read on a day off, in the country or in a park, that make vivid the pleasure of a warm breeze and nothing to do. ...
Cynthia Carr’s Our TownBy Sabrina Seelig
On the night of August 8, 1930, three young black men incarcerated for robbing and killing a white man and raping a white woman were dragged from jail in the small town of Marion, Indiana.
The Life and Death of TranslationBy Sabrina Seelig
The question of whether the world shrinks at the cost of tradition, distinct culture or individuality is oft-discussed, but one product of globalization is rarely considered: the World Literature Anthology.
The MomentBy Sabrina Seelig
The moment. In which the thing erupts is the moment in which uncertainty gapes. After all the certainty which came before. Where there was no room for faltering and no room for considerations because all considerations were already made.
AffairBy Sabrina Seelig
It had been going on. There was no talk of ending it, but she was leaving in the morning. Rainy, sitting in the cold car on the cold road and the lights of the houses blinking on and off like morse code.
The Time of the Darkest ColorBy Sabrina Seelig
I had a friend when I was young. After childhood and before the rest of it: suspended, still.