A new series where we ask a novelist to eat in a restaurant, then write us something that meets two criteria: 1) it is a restaurant review; 2) it is not a restaurant review.
Asterisks can mean emphasis, doubt, or prudery. In the realms of #vanlife, where expectations are low already, they can also supply the sort of sex that saves lives.
Drawing inspiration from those who went before, and those still to come, in the waitress wars and beyond.
A court order is found buried in a desk. A private detective is hired. But tracking down a doppelgänger is not the same as confronting one.
Even someone who writes erotica for a living has to find ways to get through moments of shame.
Years go by easier when there are 2,000 miles separating a father and son. Then an American flag turns up in your lap.
After a death in the family, a precious musical instrument must be transported a thousand-plus miles. Should it break, a lot more is at stake than just music.
Lawbreaking occurs, a man calls for help, the police detain an endless lineup of men. Sometimes fraud comes as no surprise.
Twice a year, a group of friends gathered in a coal-mining pocket of Pennsylvania—friends in their twenties with fragile identities, who didn’t know yet what would happen.
A family that relies on the satisfactions of the logical—calculus, physics, chemistry—finds itself haunted by ghosts.
Eventually a man who’s always in motion, always fixing something, will stop. Decline of the patriarch reveals an entire family’s vulnerability.
Sometimes a love scene calls for [WHIMPERS], sometimes it needs [YELPS], but knowing which one to use makes all the difference. The secret life of a professional closed captioner.