Maggie Nelson’s most recent book Bluets (Wave Books, 2009) is a poetic nonfiction meditation on the color blue. She starts with “Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color,” and goes on to illuminate several factual, historical, and sometimes personal experiences with the color blue.
In his book The Films In My Life, Francois Truffaut boldly pinned the blame for the nascence of the Nouvelle Vague movement on one man—the fiercely transcendent critic-cum-auteur Jacques Rivette.
The Sky Below, Stacey D’Erasmo’s most recent novel, explores the theme of flight in many realms.
Frame, time, narrative, action—is this the language of painting or cinema?
Pretty arresting stuff from Guatemalan performance artist Regina José Galindo at the opening of her terrific retrospective Friday night at Exit Art.
In Lydia Millet’s new short story collection, Love in Infant Monkeys, she treats animals as rock star characters, paralleling them with real-life celebrities to create stories both eccentric and, in unexpected ways, honest.
BOMBlog’s Word Choice features original works of poetry, fiction, and art. This edition of Word Choice, selected by Peter Moysaenko, features poetry by Renée Ashley and art by Simona Frillici.
Peter Moysaenko How do you differentiate between factuality and facticity, between fiction and falsehood; or do such questions represent rather the inconsequential territories of a semantic concern?
Renée Ashley The meanings of truth—or of the words that constellate around the concept of truth—a bit like a smashed window, if you ask me. The variants are many and wildly uneven. And those “territories of semantic concern” that are and surround the shards aren’t inconsequential in the least—they’re the stuff that makes the ground for play! Facticities is a delicious word. Isn’t it a great, funny word? Apparently means the kind of facts that can be verified by some sort of record, which, of course, for me, growing up in a house of slippery truths, brings up additional issues of reliability, as well as liability to error in the act of recording.
A throwback to the great Faulknerian family sagas, Lying with the Dead is populated by characters obsessed with the traumas lurking in their pasts.
Mary Jo Bang’s poems are full of elbows and sharp, uncomfortable angles. She skillfully delves into the harsh crevices of life and mind and illuminates them with her alliterative, controlled verse.
Remember the old pulp novels—two-in-one, back-to-back and upside-down? When you finished one, you could flip the book over and read the other.