{"id":140866,"date":"2019-11-12T13:00:13","date_gmt":"2019-11-12T18:00:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=140866"},"modified":"2019-11-12T13:12:44","modified_gmt":"2019-11-12T18:12:44","slug":"redux-a-cold-wet-november-morning","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2019\/11\/12\/redux-a-cold-wet-november-morning\/","title":{"rendered":"Redux: A Cold, Wet November Morning"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>Every week, the editors of\u00a0<\/em>The Paris Review<em>\u00a0lift the paywall on a selection of interviews, stories, poems, and more from the magazine\u2019s archive. You can have these unlocked pieces delivered straight to your inbox every Sunday by\u00a0<a href=\"http:\/\/eepurl.com\/dkY3AH\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">signing up for the Redux newsletter<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_140867\" style=\"width: 1010px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/interviews\/5093\/alberto-moravia-the-art-of-fiction-no-6-alberto-moravia\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-140867\" class=\"wp-image-140867 size-full\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/moravia.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"666\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/moravia.png 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/moravia-300x200.png 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/moravia-768x511.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-140867\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Alberto Moravia, 1954.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>This week at <em>The Paris Review<\/em>, we\u2019re acknowledging that November has finally arrived. Read on for Alberto Moravia\u2019s <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/interviews\/5093\/alberto-moravia-the-art-of-fiction-no-6-alberto-moravia\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Art of Fiction interview<\/a>, Amparo D\u00e1vila\u2019s short story \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/fiction\/6882\/moses-and-gaspar-amparo-davila\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Moses and Gaspar<\/a>,\u201d and Paul Jenkins\u2019s poem \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/poetry\/3491\/two-poems-paul-jenkins\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">November<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoy these free interviews, stories, and poems, why not\u00a0<a href=\"https:\/\/ssl.drgnetwork.com\/ecom\/NYB\/app\/live\/subscriptions?org=NYB&amp;publ=NY&amp;key_code=EXEEPRN&amp;type=S&amp;=Redux_Blog_Post\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">subscribe<\/a>\u00a0to\u00a0<em>The Paris Review<\/em> and read the entire archive? You\u2019ll also get four new issues of the quarterly delivered straight to your door. And don\u2019t forget to <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/podcast\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">subscribe<\/a>\u00a0to\u00a0<em>The Paris Review Podcast<\/em>\u2014a new episode comes out every Wednesday!<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/interviews\/5093\/alberto-moravia-the-art-of-fiction-no-6-alberto-moravia\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Alberto Moravia, The Art of Fiction No. 6<\/a><br \/>\n<em>Issue no. 6 (Summer 1954)<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">INTERVIEWER<\/p>\n<p>May we start at the beginning?<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">ALBERTO MORAVIA<\/p>\n<p>At the beginning?<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">INTERVIEWER<\/p>\n<p>You were born \u2026<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">MORAVIA<\/p>\n<p>Oh. I was born here. I was born in Rome on the twenty-eighth of November, 1907.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/fiction\/6882\/moses-and-gaspar-amparo-davila\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-140871\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/amparo.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"667\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/amparo.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/amparo-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/amparo-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/fiction\/6882\/moses-and-gaspar-amparo-davila\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">Moses and Gaspar<\/a><br \/>\nBy Amparo D\u00e1vila<br \/>\n<em>Issue no. 219 (Winter 2016)<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p>The train arrived at about six o\u2019clock on a cold, wet November morning. The fog was so thick it was almost impossible to see. I was wearing my coat collar up and my hat shoved down around my ears, but still the fog penetrated all the way to my bones. The apartment where Leonidas lived was in a neighborhood far from the center of town, on the sixth floor of a modest building. Everything\u2014the staircase, the hallways, the rooms\u2014was invaded by the fog.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/poetry\/3491\/two-poems-paul-jenkins\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-140872\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/jenkins.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1000\" height=\"667\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/jenkins.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/jenkins-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/11\/jenkins-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/poetry\/3491\/two-poems-paul-jenkins\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\">November<\/a><br \/>\nBy Paul Jenkins<br \/>\n<em>Issue no. 73 (Spring\u2013Summer 1978)<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p>It\u2019s true<br \/>\nI wanted silence<br \/>\nlonged for it but<br \/>\nnot this much \u2026<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>If you like what you read, <a href=\"https:\/\/ssl.drgnetwork.com\/ecom\/TPR\/app\/live\/subscriptions?org=TPR&amp;publ=PR&amp;key_code=ENAPRFX&amp;type=S&amp;gift_key=TESTFXG&amp;utm_source=ReduxBlogpost&amp;utm_medium=ReduxBlogpost&amp;utm_campaign=ReduxBlogpost&amp;utm_term=ReduxBlogpost&amp;utm_content=ReduxBlogpost\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">get a year of<\/a>\u00a0<\/em>The Paris Review<em>\u2014four new issues, plus instant access to everything we\u2019ve ever published.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This week, we\u2019ve lowered the paywall on Alberto Moravia\u2019s Art of Fiction interview, a story by Amparo D\u00e1vila, and a poem by Paul Jenkins.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[31006],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-140866","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-redux"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Redux: A Cold, Wet November Morning by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"This week, we\u2019ve lowered the paywall on Alberto Moravia\u2019s Art of Fiction interview, a story by Amparo D\u00e1vila, and a poem by Paul Jenkins.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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