Once again, Trump targets the NEA
You mean transforming into a coffee shop didn’t work?
Sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale coming in September.
Nobel in Literature will return this fall
Another case of plagiarism. When will people learn?
The book publishing scandals of February
Columbus Road

Columbus Road

by David Buchanan

It got to the point that I just didn’t want the other guys to even see her. Sharing—a tent, a cockpit, a shower—gets old during a deployment, and I wished she would stay away.

Counting

Counting

by Jodi Barnes

Often she dreams she doesn’t get into her dead boyfriend’s car. She dances solo in her stupor and calls her mother who’d promised, “I’ll pick you up; no questions asked.”

Ana’s Dance

Ana’s Dance

by Donna Miscolta

The windows are open to the blue-black sky, but there is no breeze to move the heavy air inside the apartment. Across the street, the diner blinks its electric blue sign.

Mrs. Shelton

Mrs. Shelton

by Michael C. Ahn

Even on weekends Mrs. Shelton wouldn’t leave my head. I thought of her on the bus, at my desk, and in my bed. I suspected my mother noticed me at times, gazing at or playing with my food.

History

History

by Cezarija Abartis

The Medici coat of arms, with its shield and crown, hung on a pole on the sidewalk here and everywhere throughout the city, still asserting ownership.

My Patent Leather Shoes

My Patent Leather Shoes

by Konstantina Sozou-Kyrkou

I feel my stomach bubble all day today. It’s my birthday and godfather will be here in a minute or so. He’s promised to bring me a pair of new leather shoes.

Three Bedrooms in New Jersey

Three Bedrooms in New Jersey

by Tina Barry

One autumn, a neighbor removed the hanging seats from his daughter’s swing set and trussed a deer he had shot to the top bar. I could smell it as I lay in bed.

Roadtrip

Roadtrip

by Jane Flett

I lean forward to your ear, touch my lips to the point where the hair curls over your lobe, and I wonder about falling inside. I purse them like a kiss and I whisper road trip.

A True-Begotten Father

A True-Begotten Father

By Steve Edwards

I see him on a cold blue February night: He steps onto the back porch to drop a garbage sack by the bin and my mother pushes the door shut behind him, turns the lock.

Animals

Animals

by Robley Wilson

How old was I then? I was in sixth grade, which meant I was twelve. That was another part of my uncle’s argument: I was “old enough” for the fights.

Fireside
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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

2018’s Biggest Adult Book

Winner of the National Book Award in Nonfiction

The 2019 Pushcart Prize Winners