In the Current Issue
Kathy Acker’s Library
By Julian Brimmers
Pop Songs Written by Native Speakers of Swedish
By Anthony MadridIf you were in the land of the living in ’93, you’ll remember a song called “All That She Wants,” by the Swedish band Ace of Base. I don’t know anybody who resisted that song. I, who usually hate songs like that (porny-poppy, slick, compu…
The Daily
Arts & Culture
A Little Pain
By James TateI hold no greater value / than the secret / Please believe I strive / to share ...
From the Archive, Issue 63
Poetry
Redux: Help Me Find My Spaceman Lover
By The Paris ReviewEvery week, the editors of The Paris Review lift the paywall on a selection of interviews, stories, poems, and more from the magazine’s archive. You can have these unlocked pieces delivered straight to your inbox every Sunday by signing up for…
The Daily
Redux
The Mind After Everything Has Happened
By Rowan Ricardo PhillipsPerpetual peace. Perpetual light. / From a distance it all seems graffiti. / Gold on gold. Iridescent, torqued phosphors. / But still graffiti. Someone’s smear on space. / A name. A neighborhood. X. X was Here.
From the Archive, Issue 206
Poetry
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Mothers as Makers of Death
By Claudia DeyI wrote the first draft of my novel Heartbreaker in a ten-day mania in August 2015 with a fist-size bandage over my left ear; beneath it, a track of dark-blue stitches. The smallest bone in the human body, my stapes bone, which is charged with co…
The Daily
Arts & Culture
Ten Stories from Flaubert
By Lydia DavisToday I have learned a great lesson; our cook was my teacher. She is twenty-five years old and she’s French. I discovered that she does not know that Louis-Philippe is no longer king of France and we now have a republic. And yet it has been five years since he left the throne. She said the fact that he is no longer king simply does not interest her in the least—those were her words.
From the Archive, Issue 194
Fiction
Eleven Collages
By John AshberyJohn Ashbery Made a few collages in the 1940s while he was a student at Harvard. He made several more in the 1970s. Some of those were lost and then, years later, found in a shoebox. Others were thrown out.
From the Archive, Issue 188
Art & Photography
Cimetière du Montparnasse, 12ème division
By Frederick SeidelI have a friend who has a friend / Who asked her to place her hand / And place a flower on Samuel Beckett’s grave / On his behalf.
