Trump and the Battle for Human Nature

Frances Moore Lappé

Feeling blindsided, baffled, or just bewildered, Americans are asking, How did we get here? New York Times conservative columnist Ross Douthat likens the experience of observing Republican dysfunction to seeing “a calf born with two heads…watching something that the laws…

Contemporary Television Series and Literature: An Intense, Transformative Embrace

Anna De Biasio

The “third golden age,” the “high art era” of TV, or, simply, the age of “art television.” These are some of the definitions that recur in the debate about the boom in quality of US television dramas, which, since the…

First Jazz

Pete Mullineaux

Coltrane, cool train taking vinyl track with swerve and verve, hip dip curve of lip, gravity bending light with thumb and fingertip on moon reflecting keys – take a winding scale from the black bottom of a southern swamp up…

Creative Nonfiction: 2017

The Ungrateful Son

Dinty W. Moore

After the tale by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm Once a man was sitting with his wife. They had roasted a chicken which they were about to eat together. Then the man saw that his aged father was approaching, and he…

First Prize: Snapshots Of A Summer

Eddie Virgo

Winner of the Student Creative Nonfiction Contest Through dense fog, Sylvia and I ran down the barren street. It must have been four in the morning, yet neither of us showed signs of weariness. From above, we could hear the…

Second Prize: Chicken Soup

Athanasios Lazaro

Winner of the Student Creative Nonfiction Contest It was a cool, crisp evening. The golden sun was setting over the distant horizon, painting the clouds red. Blood was spurting from the mutilated stump of the chicken’s twitching neck, painting the…

Third Prize: Blankey

Myra Molloy

Winner of the Student Creative Nonfiction Contest I love my Blankey She is green and pink and blue Blankey loves me too 5. Lissy looked like a real bunny. Not the kind with big, cartoon eyes or a head too…

Crowded_Red_Line_platforms_at_Park_Street,_February_2014_2

Alone, Together

Nicholas Combs

I am alone. Warm bodies surround me, preventing me from moving around in the cramped, humid subway car. The scents of trash, smoke, and human odor, mix together. I’m trapped in it, unable to get outside my own overworked mind.…

Third Eye

Lizzie Fasana

Clenching a pencil in his hands, my father begins to explain the size of my brain tumor. His fingers tremble as they trace the pencil’s lead, its bitten edges. His glazed eyes are transfixed on its exposed wood and its…