Herman Wouk has died
The 100th Annual O.Henry Prize stories
Danielle Steel has published 179 books
Did 1000 authors earn $100,000 from Amazon in 2018?
Baltimore mayor resigns over book scandal
Baker & Taylor to cease wholesaling books to retailers
Dragging Raven Lake

Dragging Raven Lake

by Kevin Couture
The men waited on the shore while Susan, (whose son they searched for), made coffee on the tailgate of a half-ton.
The Imminence of Flight

The Imminence of Flight

by Chris Connolly
At the supermarket I see a young mother gently weeping in the cereal aisle. Her baby watches her curiously, possibly stumped by this reversal of roles, or too young to understand.
A Boyfriend History in 10 Flavors

A Boyfriend History in 10 Flavors

by Laura Golden Bellotti
Our ten-year age difference seemed vast to me, not to him. It was lunch—our daily lunches at the small French restaurant across the street from our office—that bridged the gap.
Guitar Lessons

Guitar Lessons

by Roxanne Lynn Doty
If anybody follows me call 911. I live in apartment 12 but don’t go there if somebody stalks me. I should stay in a public place like Taco Bell or Walgreens.
Down in the Station

Down in the Station

by Seth Sawyers
In the station a black woman with thick braids played the cello. I thought she was good, but I don’t know if she really was good, because what do I know about the cello?
My Mother Has a Cult Following

My Mother Has a Cult Following

by Siobhan Adcock
My mother has a cult following. It’s not as big as my father’s, because her band hasn’t sold as many records as his.
Rabbit Suit

Rabbit Suit

by Julia Lynn Rubin
When I look at the sky, I don’t see color. The man in the rabbit suit doesn’t either. I know this because I asked him one summer, when the air smelled like burning pavement.
Superman

Superman

by Emile DeWeaver
A mother-of-pearl mirror-stand, rolled rugs from Damascus, and other brick-a-brac from when I went through my I’m-gay-but-proud-to-be-Syrian bullshit fill the shadows in my garage.
Orbiting, Day 271

Orbiting, Day 271

by Bradley Potts
“There is a 2.43% probability of survival. How would you like to proceed, Jay?” Blue Jay, flutter and fly, away from the crows. That gloating, hateful blue engulfs my tiny window.
Puddles Like Pillows

Puddles Like Pillows

by Suzanne Conboy-Hill
Things began disappearing round about March. Just little things—a newspaper left on a bench, or a sandwich wrapper—and not blown away or tumbled into a corner, just gone.
Fireside
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Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in General Nonfiction

Winner of NBCC Award in Fiction

Winner of NBCC Award in Poetry

Winner of NBCC Award in Nonfiction

Winner of NBCC Award in Memoir

Winner of the 2019 Story Prize

Winner of the National Book Award in Fiction

Winner of the Thurber Prize for American Humor

Winner of the National Book Award in Poetry