Paris Review publisher Susannah Hunnewell has died
Nicholas Sparks shows his true colors
Elliott Management agrees to buy Barnes & Noble
Print book checkouts are declining at universities
Herman Wouk has died
Recent Fiction

Palloncino, by Lauren Lynn Matheny

Whatever the color, there had been a balloon. There had been a boy. And there had been a fall.
Recent Poetry

Ode to a Bee on the Small of Your Back, by Partridge Boswell

Blind to what tickles the delta of nerves there / you rub a humming with the back of your hand
Recent CNF

Freddy Krueger is Not Real, by Dina Peone

I was under the covers in my sister’s bedroom, deep asleep, while flames spread from a nearby candle.
How to submit to The Journal or enter A Contest or subscribe to Our Newsletter
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.

Orchard Avocation

Orchard Avocation

by William Ford

I’m a laid off mooch / of a prof using up fuel / to cut grass close / around apple trees / where voles eat roots / and breed and breed / deep in the grass, hidden / from fox and hawks.

Memories of David Foster Wallace

Memories of David Foster Wallace

Following is a transcript of a memorial service held for David Foster Wallace on 26 October 2008 at Underwood Park in Normal, Illinois.
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.
Christine Elizabeth Eldin, 1966-2012

Christine Elizabeth Eldin, 1966-2012

by Stephen Parrish
Aspiring writer, loving mother, and dear friend Chris Eldin took her life at age 46 after a long and baffling absence from public view.
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.
A Proof

A Proof

by Andrew McCall
My father does not believe / That the small things accrete, / That the infinitesimals / Lean together to form a whole.
Freelance Your Way to Poverty

Freelance Your Way to Poverty

by Con Chapman
There is a charity in Boston that helps the homeless by publishing a newspaper to which they contribute articles and poems.
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
*
Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction

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