Aries

The Ram / Courageous, Adventurous, Independent / Domineering, Selfish, Arrogant

These past few months have been full of ups and downs for you (talk about whiplash). In September, you might want to make some time for social events, feed those friendships you’ve neglected. I know you’ve had your Netflix pants on—who hasn’t, honestly?—but it’s time to go out and shake it!

…Or you could stay inside and read this lovely story pick. I’m not judging.

• Uncouple, by Tara Isabel Zambrano: Full of gorgeous imagery and striking prose, this one is an utter feast for the senses. Here’s a teaser for you: “The moonplant was glowing, pieces of quartz dangling like fruits. Leaning in, I saw sparkling orbits of flying debris, tiny fireworks underneath its membrane.”

Taurus

The Bull / Loyal, Friendly, Resourceful / Self-Indulgent, Possessive, Greedy

Last month might have been a doozy—you rocked those endless projects, my friend—but this month is all about exploring the great outdoors and finding solitude in nature. Indulge in a slower, kinder pace, and cap off September with a few mental health days. You’ve earned it, kiddo.  

Before you commune with nature, though, check out your fantastical story pick.

• Death and His
  Lover,
  by Getty Hesse: This story takes a unique look at death, but it’s really about
  love. The last line is killer, too (I’d make a pun right now, but I can’t—the
  piece is that good). An excerpt to whet your palate: “Death sips Earl Grey. He prefers Oolong; it reminds him of his late
  mother, Death before him.”

Gemini

The Twins / Intelligent, Adaptable, Creative / Moody, Opportunistic, Inconsistent

Expect to attend some obligatory family functions in September. Each one might feel like a Monday morning, but at least these shindigs tend to come with alcohol. Don’t forget one of the internet’s life rules: Vodka mixes well with everything, except decisions.

You could probably use a distraction right about now. This title alone will hook you, guaranteed:

• The Eye Eaters, by Matthew
  Bailey: Shocking and insightful, this flash fiction piece says a lot with a
  little. Each line is perfectly crafted without ever losing focus. I think it’s
  only fair to show you: “When we find the
  old fruit seller sprawled on his back, face a livid gray, I’m all for following
  the proper rituals. But Ituani wants to eat his eyes.”

Cancer

The Crab / Honest, Generous, Faithful / Insecure, Needy, Crabby

Don’t be a Debbie Downer or give into any tempting negativity this month. Emotions might run high toward the middle of September, but remember to stand your ground. I know it doesn’t come naturally, so practice snapping those pincers!

And save this monthly read for when you need it most.

• Cerise Sky
  Memories,
  by Wendy Nikel: Some say you should look to the stars for inspiration. I tend
  to agree, especially with standout stories like this one—it’s a star of its
  very own. Since I’ve been handing out excerpts like candy today, it’s only fair
  that I give you one, too: “I remember a
  childhood that didn’t exist. Hot apple pies cooling on park benches. Small toes
  pressed into scorching white sand. Snowball fights leaving crisp, crunchy ice
  crusted in the collar of my coat.”

Leo

The Lion / Cheery, Noble, Imaginative / Demanding, Boastful, Melodramatic

Oh Leo, this month is going to be all about change for you. You might catch a breather with your friends, but otherwise? It’s going to be a little rocky. Cheer up, though—the worst is yet to come! (I kid, I kid.)

Start embracing change with this eloquent story pick.

• Metamorphoses, by Kathryn Kulpa:
  This one cuts deep but also sparkles with fluid prose and breathtaking imagery.
  See for yourself: “Fling her into
  the heavens, let her shine. Let her burn so bright she won’t regret losing the
  skin she wore when she walked on the earth, the legs that carried her
  everywhere but couldn’t carry her away.”

Virgo

The Maiden / Practical, Diligent, Kind / Obsessive, Self-Righteous, Compulsive

September will be smooth sailing for you, Virgo. The forecast is sunny skies without a cloud in sight. The universe is in your favor till late September, when it will drop you like a hot potato for Libra. Er, until then, seize the day and have some fun!

First order of business: skip your chores and read this delightful story.

• Huntress, by Alpheus Williams: Gorgeously crafted with a dark underbelly, this flash fiction piece is a joy to read. I’m all about sharing the love: “She walks in gardens, vegetables and fruits lean towards her pleading to be plucked, flowers brighten, birds erupt in song. Under a full moon, my mother, archer and hunter, leads me into woods, dense, dark and leafy.”

Libra

The Scales / Compassionate, Trustworthy, Peacemaker / Disorganized, Materialistic, Indecisive

You’re probably feeling distinctly zombielike after the disaster that was August. You survived, you balanced thing, you, and now it’s time to treat yourself to a little glamour. Whether that means daily bubble baths, high-thread-count sheets, or something in between, the beginning of fall will be a time of delicious indulgence.

Speaking of indulgences…

• The
  Geology of October Children, by Faye Sabrage Brontide: Every single word of this
  poem is carefully chosen, and it shows—each line feels like it carries its very
  own heartbeat. I just can’t resist dropping these teasers today: “October Children are moonmilk / veins and a thirst for
  fire. / Amber eyes by a flashlight’s beam, / fossilized resin seaming / opaque
  shards with murky light / yellow beneath layers of crust.”

Scorpio

The Scorpion / Purposeful, Charismatic, Cunning / Aggressive, Manipulative, Possessive

Last month might have been all about future plans, but this month is the perfect time to live in the moment! Now, don’t groan; it’s not polite (I’m winking, if you can’t tell). Set aside some time for your passions and get creative. And no, trying out a new cereal brand doesn’t count.

Well, maybe it does a little.

• This Story Is Not About You, by Jeremy Bibaud: When you need
  a break from staring at an empty Word document—we’ve all been there—check out
  this mysterious yet achingly relatable read. Sample it here: “You stand by the river, its depths three shades of
  blue and full of life. The sun warms your face. You think of her and imagine
  expressing thoughts buried so deep dust will gather on your lips.”

Sagittarius

The Archer / Straightforward, Optimistic, Adventurous / Careless, Impatient, Hotheaded

The daily grind might get to you within the first few weeks of fall. Keep your chin up and party hardy during that night out you have planned. When you’re not letting your hair down, try to stay inspired with some good ol’ exercise (c’mon, those spandex shorts are collecting dust).

If you’re still not feeling inspired, remember your daily routine: get up, be amazing, go back to bed, repeat. And don’t forget about your story pick…

• Spacious Skies, by Emily Livingstone: This piece is wild and imaginative,
  but also deeply resonant with a gut punch of an ending. Check it out, if you
  dare: “When the jellyfish ate people, the red flesh of their bodies
  showed up in the transparent stomachs, hovering like bad weather over their
  loved ones down below.”

Capricorn

The Mountain Sea-Goat / Traditional, Responsible, Ambitious / Unforgiving, Blunt, Pessimistic

Whew, the butter-side-down days are over! Like the end of summer, you’ll welcome a crisp fall breeze with a smile on your face. You might have been dodging personal and professional landmines last month, but September looks like a time of recovery and stability. Get lots of rest, or go to town on those to-do lists—whatever makes you happy, friend.

You could also check out this monthly read, handpicked just for you.

• Knife Wife, by Matt
  Leibel: I’m 99% certain that this flash fiction piece is unlike anything you’ve
  read before. Here is an excerpt, you lucky duck: “She became an insomniac
  dicer, a focused maniac with knives in her eyes. She entered a national
  competition, and chopped her way to the top.”

Aquarius

The Water-Bearer / Intellectual, Open-Minded, Outgoing / Unpredictable, Self-Conscious, Chaotic

Don’t worry about any gossip you might hear at the workplace. After all, you’re fluent in two extra languages: sarcasm and profanity. Plus, you’ll be rewarded for good behavior around the height of the month. Not only will you have a week of great hair days, but that flirtation with your favorite barista just might turn into the cutest date ever.

While you’re waiting in line for your tenth coffee of the day—ha, I see what you’re doing—pull up your story pick for September.

• Little Will, by Patricia Q. Bidar: The beats of this story are as
  unexpected as they are intriguing. The last two paragraphs are particularly
  seamless. Let’s start with the beginning: “Will was born as a
  little friend for his mother. His scorched hometown was the site of an oil
  boom, and the murder capital of the country.”

Pisces

The Fish / Charitable, Intuitive, Artistic / Timid, Impractical, Indolent

Good news, Pisces! Your health issues should clear up by the start of the month. Go outside and enjoy some fresh air and sunshine before winter hits. After all, winter is coming. (Too soon? Yeah, too soon.) Anyway, you do you, and save this flash fiction piece for some bedtime reading.

• Night in Saint-Cloud, by Melissa Goode: Beautiful and nostalgic, this piece will leave you longing for more. Because I live to tease, here’s my twelfth story teaser of the day: “The drapes are open and the moonlight floods in silver–blue–lilac. Your chin in your hand, you look out the window to the river, the golden light of a faraway bridge. You startled me, I say. You turn, your face a blur, backlit by the too-bright night sky.”

An Interview with Hanif Abdurraqib on 90s NBA, Antique Shopping, and Animated Movies

Writers Talking About Anything but Writing is a series of interviews in which we ask writers to take a break from trying to document the world and just kinda chill out in it for a while.

Laura Villareal (LV)

Admittedly, I don’t know much about basketball, but I feel like I remember 90s NBA with a lot of nostalgia. I remember Michael Jordan being all over the place, Space Jam, and it being the David Robinson and Tim Duncan era for the San Antonio Spurs. What do you remember? What gets you excited about this decade of basketball?

Hanif Abdurraqib (HA)

Well, I grew up in a house of Knicks fans. Both of my parents were from New York, and weren’t overly intense about basketball, but definitely loved the Knicks in the 90s, when they were at their most competitive and thrilling. My brother’s favorite player was John Starks. My mother liked Charles Smith, because she said he seemed like a nice person. 90s NBA basketball was sort of a unifying force in my household when I was younger. We didn’t often have cable, but we’d have the regular broadcast channels. And at the time, the NBA on NBC was huge. Every Sunday, there’d be a game, sometimes two. Those were some of my fondest memories. I fell in love with the game in small, weekly increments. The thing with so many people of my NBA-watching era now, I think, is that so many of us romanticize the way the game was played more physically/violently. Which, sure, was a part of it. But what drew me in were the rivalries. To watch the games in the era before social media meant, for me, that my imagination could do the work of building the highest stakes into a narrative. I had no idea whether or not players were actually friends off the court. When the Knicks played the Bulls, or when the Spurs played the Suns, I got to imagine that these players were actually mortal enemies, because I wasn’t seeing them hanging out in the off season, or getting dinner after the game. I’ve always been as big a fan of narrative as I am of sports themselves. 90s NBA was teeming with narrative, with cartoonishly beautiful jerseys, with the best commercials. The commercials aren’t good anymore, Laura. I thought of this while watching the NBA finals this year. I miss the commercials.

The thing that gets me excited about this decade of basketball is that, much like the older decades, it is a point of connection for me and so many of my pals. I’m in this group chat with poets who are NBA fans. It started with us just talking basketball, but now, of course, it has become a catchall for our lives. Our triumphs and less-than-triumphs. But mostly, a way to stay in touch.

LV

Wow, yeah I never thought about how much of 90s NBA was invested in the narrative but I totally see what you mean. Thanks for sharing a couple commercials. I really like the Michael Jordan one. Do you have a memory of a game that you were especially invested in?

HA

Well, I think my clearest memory of a game from my childhood revolves around interruption. I was ten years old when game five of the 1994 NBA Finals was interrupted by the infamous OJ Simpson White Bronco Chase. I had never seen anything like it. For me, basketball was the biggest thing in the world at that age, and I couldn’t understand this idea that something could be bigger. I only peripherally understood the OJ Simpson case, at that point. I knew that it held the attention of my parents and my older siblings. I knew that OJ Simpson was an actor who once played football, and that he’d maybe killed people. But I wasn’t glued to the news in the way that I would become glued to the news in the coming months and years. Also, we lived in Ohio, where the local news coverage wasn’t dominated by it.

But, because of the aforementioned Knicks affection vibrating through my home, the Knicks being in the 1994 NBA Finals was an impossibly large deal in my house. The 1994 NBA Finals were great. The games were competitive, and it seemed—with Michael Jordan taking a temporary leave from the NBA—that the Knicks might finally find the glory that had eluded them.

I remember when the game got interrupted because the score was close, and the viewers in my household were on edge. There was a special report, and then a cut to OJ’s slow-crawling Bronco, bathing in the final moments of California sunlight. It was all so odd. They went to a split screen, showing the game on half, and this car chase (a chase in name only) on the other half. The Knicks won the game, but lost the series. They’ve only been to the finals one time since. You might have heard the news, but they’re bad now.  

LV

Tell me about antique shopping. When did you get into it? What’s the best item you’ve found and/or bought?

HA

I used antiques to distract my way into healing, I think. I was preparing to leave Connecticut on the heels of a really all-consuming heartbreak. To give myself some space from an apartment drowning in packed boxes, I would do these weird trips to these corners of Connecticut that had little clusters of antique stores. I loved how easy it was to get lost. When you’ve lived a portion of a life tied to another person, there are certain things you imagine you’ve gotten figured out. When that rug got pulled out from under me, I felt emotionally lost, and so it made sense for me to go to a space where I could become physically lost. I like an antique store with no order to it. Shelves packed with whatever fits, or glass cases with valuable things and cheap things. I’d wander aisles, holding things and trying to imagine the lives they once had. What makes someone part ways with an item they loved once? Did the old engraved silverware set belong to a person who is no longer with us, and their family just couldn’t bear to have the reminder in the house? I began to think about how even parting ways with something can be an act of affection. In hopes that the love we once felt for an item can be felt by someone else. If I’m being honest, I have no real use for the old nutcracker I got from an antique store in Ohio’s Amish Country last winter, but I’m so glad to hold it, because I can imagine that it meant something to someone once.

Like anyone who shops for things they don’t need, I’m concerned primarily with attractiveness. But also, I like sports bobbleheads. When I go antique shopping now, I seek those out first. I have a small collection in my office that is growing slowly. There are great online antique shopping communities that I participate in, mostly from the outside. Forums that point people to the best shops in areas, or summaries of what can be found in certain places. I’m growing a good bit a gratitude for that community, as well.

LV

I’m speechless, Hanif. What a beautiful description of the evolving emotional lives of objects. Do you have any tips for people new to antiquing?

HA

Honestly, I think the greatest tip I have is to find the smaller stores first. The big, warehouse-style stores have more items, of course. But they don’t always have the better items. And they don’t always have a person who is eager and willing to explain something you’ve fancied while they turn it over slowly in their hands. Trust me, I don’t mind the behemoth antique shops for the ways I can get lost in them. But whenever I’m in a new town, I’m often on a hunt for the places where I know I can get a side of history with my wandering.

LV

What are a few of your favorite animated movies? What did you like most about each?  

HA

Fantasia was the first movie I ever saw in theaters, and it frightened me a great deal, for all of its marching instruments and anthropomorphic whatnots. But there was a real beauty in it that I remember reshaping my ideas around what is possible. I just saw Toy Story 4 (which was fine) and it reminded me of how long the Toy Story franchise has been around. I was a kid when the first one came out, and the movie meant so much to me—I had very few toys that I loved when I was young, and I hadn’t yet grown out of them in ’95, but I was getting close to it. Toy Story helped me live those last moments of toyhood in the best way possible. I also loved the first Secret Life of Pets, but not the latest one. Still, as a new dog owner, I love the idea that when I leave my apartment, my dog is living a full and flourishing life without me.

LV

What are your thoughts on the shift to live action versions of animated movies like Aladdin, Dumbo, and The Lion King etc.? In the past most haven’t been very good. Do you think the magic of animation is lost or mistranslated when brought into reality?   

HA

I haven’t watched any! I think that I’ve come to the very early realization that these aren’t being made for me, but for a generation of young folks who are being reintroduced to these worlds and stories. So I’ve been pretty fine sitting them out. I kind of don’t want or need a live action Lion King, for example. The fact that the animals weren’t real and could be kind of exaggerated and comical worked for me. But I think people like even their old myths to feel touchable. So, live action it is.

An Interview with Jess Rizkallah on Dreams, Tarot, and the Best of TV

Writers Talking About Anything but Writing is a series of interviews in which we ask writers to take a break from trying to document the world and just kinda chill out in it for a while.

Laura Villareal (LV)

You sent me a list of so many exciting topics that I’m not sure where to start. I think I want to put dreams, tarot, and alternate timelines under the umbrella of the esoteric and occult. Time is a unifying chord for all three of those, I think. Do you think dreams are speaking to the past, present, future, or all timelines? How do you go about interpreting meaning from them?

Jess Rizkallah (JR)

I think dreams troll on time all the time, or troll us for being so wound up about time. Or maybe dreams don’t know what time is because when we sleep we’re walking away from time to where dreams are waiting, are still going, and we jump in and out every sixteen hours. Dreams don’t notice because they’ve got fantastic quilting to do.

I’ve been writing down my dreams regularly for the last three years and my recall has improved, as well as my recognition and, like, spatial understanding of my dreams. Whenever I try to draw timelines I just end up with blueprints to a house. I open doors and I’m in the past, I take the stairs and I’m in the future. I go onto the balcony and I’m suspended over everything watching the past, the present, and the future. Everything is upside down and right side up. Everything is connected and happening all at once. Like if you took what Vonnegut’s Tralfamadorians see and zigzagged it like red yarn through a dollhouse.

Me and my friend Josh Elbaum talk about dreams like they are timelines that spring into being every night, but we also wonder if maybe they’ve always been their own timelines and we are dipping into the worlds of our dream selves, and when they sleep they are dipping into our worlds. Like what if existence is a mirror! Lots of mirrors! Fun house mazes made of mirrors!

I’ve been having dreams lately where I’m returning to all these scenarios and settings I’ve dreamt before, months or even years before. I’m rewriting? Reliving? But not quite. Time has passed. The dream allows this so that I see how far I’ve come and what I’ve let go of (I tell myself) and I wake up with a clarity I try to hold on to all day. Sometimes I don’t know what meaning to interpret because I wake up cross-eyed feeling like a truck hit me between the eyes and there are cartoon stars floating around my head. But even when the images are concrete there’s still an ambiguity I feel, words I can’t find, but I can feel them. That initial feeling when you wake up: THAT is the meaning of a dream. What fills the gaps in our memories. Like recently I dreamt something where the things that happened didn’t line up with the hope I felt upon waking up. But hope is important because that’s what survived the dream. That’s what I am when I’m awake. I remind myself of this when I wake up unsure what a dream was. The body knows language that it won’t translate into words for us; we gotta meet it halfway and learn something.

LV

Wow! I love that last thing you said about the body having language it won’t translate and meeting it halfway.

Everything you described is fascinating and complex. There are so many theories on why we dream. Freud famously believed that dreams reveal our unconscious desires. Scientists have speculated that we dream to process information and store memories. I read once, somewhere in the middle of an internet research rabbit hole, that some people believe dreams are a glimpse of alternate realities. What do you think?

JR

I think dreams are all those things. Sometimes you really are just stressed and you’re gonna dream about being late for the first day of school. Or the world is scary so you keep having apocalypse dreams. Or you’re feeling twirly and bam a sex dream. Or dreaming is just encoding data. Yes, there are other realities pressing against ours. I love that thought a lot. I’m open to it. Especially when I dream inside the bodies and lives of people who are not me and everything is so linear and almost cinematic. I also believe dreams are where past life memories come through that explain a lot of our conscious aversions or reactions or passions or even connections to people we know, people we meet, people we pass.

LV

The past, future, and present seem so intertwined when you describe dreams. I don’t know a lot about tarot, but it seems like they do similar work of intuiting time. How long have you been reading tarot cards?

JR

I think I got my first deck after losing someone very important to me four years ago and noticing the grief intensify my reactions to things. My friend Ellyn gave me a reading and my brain felt so calm as I listened. Using tarot cards feels like you can touch the basin of water inside you that empties and refills every time you read a poem.

My favorite story about my deck is that the first time I used it, my roommate’s cat was hanging out in my windowsill for like an hour while I was hanging out on my bed. She was just not giving a shit about me. Then I cracked the plastic and took the cards out and I hear a meow and next thing I know she’s come across the room and is sitting right at my side watching me and the cards, purring. Later, I put them away and she went back to the window. I miss that cat.

LV

Everyone has strange fears, but you mentioned you have a fear about watching movies? Is it a fear of watching a genre?

JR

Well my fear is more an aversion. I get super into any media I consume, so when it abruptly ends I’m left feeling very empty and sad!!! A side effect of being a sentimental bitch who sucks at goodbyes, etc. I still watch movies sometimes, but I love TV shows because they kinda just go on forever and tackle a lot and you can keep walking around that world (usually). However, I’m definitely afraid of horror movies. I can’t even watch the previews. I feel like if nudity isn’t allowed to be shown in ads or whatever, why should I be forced to look at shit that’s actually terrible to look at? That would actually give me nightmares????? Am I a giant weenie???? Possibly!!!

LV

TV shows are one of your passions, specifically CW TV shows like Riverdale and Jane the Virgin. If you could be a character in any television show, who would it be and why?

JR

Oh damn, I don’t know. Probably something with lots of magic and mystery and time travel and pithiness. I just watched Umbrella Academy and now I’m obsessed. So actually that’s my answer. I really loved its world building and soundtrack and the futuristic shit mashed into the steampunk-old-timey shit mashed into 2019. Time being pockets. You can live on the moon if you want to. Lots of donuts. New York keeps being New York right until the last note. Birdwatching as courtship and one thousand crooked paintings reaching up to a vaulted ceiling. If you keep searching your own pockets, you’ve got something on you that can save the world. Moral ambiguity. I think we’re alone now. But when will Robert Sheehan text me back?

LV

What would you like to see a TV show about? Would it be a remake of a comic like The Flash or a totally new show about something you don’t see a lot of in television?   

JR

I’d like to see something like Lizzie McGuire or Girls but about Arab-American girls. I’d love to write it myself. There’d be a scene where her dad helps her put in her earring after it fell out and he’s kind of clumsy about it so she winces and he quietly recalls how bothered he was when she was a baby and they took her to get her ears pierced and her little baby face winced in pain. Then the earring clicks and he kisses the top of her head and goes to work. That happened to me today, that’s my memory. I love my dad.

When writing about the human condition, it isn’t unusual to find that what seems sophisticated in the mind appears much less so on paper. On the other hand, within certain philosophical ramblings, we may stumble upon a gem or two that seems to make our time worthwhile.

This is the case in Baret Magarian’s Melting Point, released this June by Salt Publishing. This collection of somewhat interesting stories, narrated in long, rambling paragraphs by considerably less interesting people, is occasionally infused with brilliance.

Much of the collection’s doldrums stem from Magarian’s habit of telling the story from the point of view of the wrong character. In “Erasing the Waves,” we uncover the pattern that largely defines this collection: we begin with an unnamed, mediocre protagonist, and through him meet Aaron, a respected film director whose story could succeed in piquing our interest were it not for the thoroughly underwhelming narrative frame. As this dynamic plays out in multiple stories, we watch again and again as these average protagonists learn from their idols some sort of lesson, through which they come to a state of great awe.

These epiphanies are clearly meant to have an impact on the reader, to transform us. But the long-winded, meandering way by which we arrive at these moments causes them to fall flat.

The pattern is punctuated unflatteringly by an intriguing and occasionally gratuitous focus on sex. In each of Magarian’s male-centered stories, there is some kind of visceral description of a woman or of sex that feels crass despite the lack of outwardly vulgar language. These occurrences feel unnecessary, except to cause in the reader a deep dislike of the protagonists. In these stories, women are sexual objects or tools, used to either ruin men or bring them together. Nowhere is this more evident than in the story “Alba,” a piece which—despite its focus on Alba’s life—effectively erases her existence once it accomplishes its goal of using her to bring together in peace the two men who loved her.

The unsophisticated way in which Magarian’s male characters view their female counterparts contrasts wildly with the grace of the few stories in the collection told from the point of view of women. Magarian seems to connect more strongly with his female characters, who have richer emotional worlds and fascinations of more depth and less pretention. Though almost every story presented has a focus on the philosophical, the female-centric tales tend to hold a gentler and subsequently more effective meaning; rather than staring you in the face with an unclear and overwrought message, they slip the reader into a sense of greater rumination.

This, of course, is not always the case. “The Mosque of Còrdoba,” a story about the meditations of a man exploring a mosque, leaves the reader in a state of deep, thoughtful sorrow by its end. The final work in the collection, “The Opiate Eyes of the Buddha,” both confirms and subverts my characterization of the collection—containing overt sexualization and a scene of rape juxtaposed with scenes of love, bonding, and spiritual meaning.

These outliers show clearly that Magarian is capable of straying out of the pattern he’s established. Therefore, it’s curious why there isn’t more of what shines in Melting Point—subtle, dancing stories that have beautiful imagery and communicate deep and unexpected meaning. Two of my favorites are “The Watery Gowns,” in which a young woman conquers a shipwreck, and “The Meltdown,” in which a musical schoolteacher leads us through a bout of beautiful, euphonious madness. As we progress through the collection, there’s a growing sense of immensity to the world, as though with each individual short our presence on earth shrinks.

If Magarian can recognize his strengths, he is capable of much more than this collection implies. I look forward to exploring what he creates next.

Aries

The Ram / Courageous, Adventurous, Independent / Domineering, Selfish, Arrogant

Last month was all about adventure and change. This month is the not-so-fun flip side of that coin, so set aside some time to rest and recharge before you’re dropped into a sea of conflict. Sorry to break it to you!

When you do take a breather, recover with this story pick:

• Peach Pit Mother, by Harrison Geosits: Beautifully written with a painfully perfect ending, this one is sure to stick with you.  

Taurus

The Bull / Loyal, Friendly, Resourceful / Self-Indulgent, Possessive, Greedy

You’re going to have to work it this month—pedal to the metal, baby—but you can hit the brakes after the 15th. Cool off with this well-deserved story pick, and remember to treat yourself to a little something extra.

• The Peaceable Night, by Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar: This is another gorgeously penned story that will make you feel like you’re eating dessert. Don’t believe me? Here’s one example among many: “Suhaila brushed salt from her ankles. The beach was filled with bodies, the sand shivering like glass.”

Gemini

The Twins / Intelligent, Adaptable, Creative / Moody, Opportunistic, Inconsistent

Whew, glad to see you made it through July! Emerge from your pseudo-survival bunker and enjoy some late summer days. Maybe even go a little crazy and head to the beach with this absolute gem of a read:

• The Crayfish Seller, by Richard Berry: Nostalgic, wistful, and bittersweet, the story packs quite a punch in just one hundred words.

Cancer

The Crab / Honest, Generous, Faithful / Insecure, Needy, Crabby

Leo might have stolen the spotlight, but good news: it’s all downhill from here! (I think I might have misread these tea leaves again, whoops.) Anyway, avoid heart-to-hearts this month and try to focus on work.

In the meantime, here’s a dark fantasy that’s sure to pique your interest:

• A Cup of Salt Tears, by Isabel Yap: A study in grief, this fantastical piece eloquently captures the cost of love and sacrifice.

Leo

The Lion / Cheery, Noble, Imaginative / Demanding, Boastful, Melodramatic

We probably don’t need to tell you this, you spotlight-stealer—I say that with love—but August is your month to shine! You’re going to feel on top of the world, so put that imaginative nature to use and don’t hesitate to go after what you want.

This delightful story pick will put you in just the right mood:

• A Date with Destiny, by Alexis Silas: The story is downright fun with a heightened feel-good factor. By the end of it, you’ll have a smile on your face, guaranteed.

Virgo

The Maiden / Practical, Diligent, Kind / Obsessive, Self-Righteous, Compulsive

Two new cuties will enter your orbit this month. One of them could be trouble—I’ll let you decide which one is which! (Avoid mullets though, come on.) Otherwise, it looks like it’s smooth sailing ahead for you, Virgo. Hah, who am I kidding…

Ahem, here’s your story pick!

• Crocodile Love Machine, by Mackenzie Suess: Gods and deities conversing in a laundromat. Need I say more?

Libra

The Scales / Compassionate, Trustworthy, Peacemaker / Disorganized, Materialistic, Indecisive

Remember that smidge of turbulence at the end of July? It’ll blow into full DEFCON 1 by the middle of August. Once you get your survival strategy down, you might want to try to make a little time for hobbies or light exercise. You know, just so you don’t lose your sanity (I’m with you, friend).

Speaking of a little time for hobbies…

• Broken Hart, by Emma Naismith: Creative and poignant, this story will leave you wanting more. Because I’m nice (sort of), here’s a teaser: “The first soft bump appears just above Ebba’s hairline when she is fourteen. It takes six weeks for the right one to swell up.”

Scorpio

The Scorpion / Purposeful, Charismatic, Cunning / Aggressive, Manipulative, Possessive

It looks like some money is headed your way, you baller! Remember to put some of it in the bank for future travel plans. There’ve been ups and downs this year, so take that dream vacation and party like it’s 1999—you’ve earned it.

Here’s some reading for your next plane ride:

• The Diver’s Song (A Strange Paraphernalia), by Kyra Simone: A story that will grab you hook, line, and sinker, this one is sure to pull you under melancholic waters and make you really think.

Sagittarius

The Archer / Straightforward, Optimistic, Adventurous / Careless, Impatient, Hotheaded

Good news, Sagittarius! You’re going to be given a rare opportunity at the height of the month. Be true to your nature—a.k.a. seize the day, you adventurer, you—and enjoy this darkly comedic story pick along the way:

• Weather Person, by Steven Grassel: SmokeLong Quarterly describes the story best: “‘Weather Person’ focuses on one character’s defiance against a force predicted as ‘inevitable.’”

Capricorn

The Mountain Sea-Goat / Traditional, Responsible, Ambitious / Unforgiving, Blunt, Pessimistic

It’s official: the butter-side down days have hit (I did warn you!). Expect some fallout in your professional or personal life—or even both. Maybe adopt an “if you can’t beat them, join them” mentality?

Distract yourself or embrace the chaos with this monthly read. It’s your choice, of course (I can’t always give you my opinion, jeez).

• Billy the Kid Chooses the Manner of His Own Death, by Kaj Tanaka: An atmospheric and introspective piece, this is one of those stories that gives you something new each time you read it.

Aquarius

The Water-Bearer / Intellectual, Open-Minded, Outgoing / Unpredictable, Self-Conscious, Chaotic

Feed your outgoing, intellectual spirit with some dazzling friend dates. Hit a museum, go to a swanky restaurant opening. Honestly, the sky’s the limit. When you get home, though, we have just the story pick for you.

• Phoenix, Fallen, by Rebecca Birch: This genre and writing style is sure to please your open-minded nature. Because I’m feeling generous, here’s yet another story teaser: “She leads me through a koa-wood door, without a department name I can see, and beckons a young man with spiky, gold-tipped hair and a lilac button-down with subtle flowers worked into the weave.”

Pisces

The Fish / Charitable, Intuitive, Artistic / Timid, Impractical, Indolent

You might experience some health issues around the end of the month, but they should only linger for a few days (just like respectable houseguests). Cozy up with some coffee or tea and that embarrassing sweater you keep hidden in your sock drawer. You know the one.

Once you’re half relaxed and half caffeinated, crack open this enthralling read.

• Three Angels, by David L. Ulin: Gripping, striking, and lovely, this piece takes a closer look at humanity by shedding a light on three earthly angels.

As societies around the world dip their toes in authoritarianism, we’d like to elevate authors of speculative fiction who imagine alternatives or help us demand the impossible futures of our dreams. In the Resistance Writers interview series, we’ll hear from a handful of writers from the 2015 anthology, Octavia’s Brood: Science Fiction Stories from Social Justice Movements. Each writer elaborates on sources of inspiration and how activism informs their work. Our hope is to provide a source of guidance for aspiring writers of visionary fiction.

Thomas Chisholm (TC)

How did you get involved with the Octavia’s Brood project? How did the editors, Walidah Imarisha and adrienne maree brown, discover your work?

Jelani Wilson (JW)

I’ve known Walidah for many years. In something of a past life I was an MC in an underground hip-hop group that was sci-fi themed and politically driven, so we’d long been conversing about sci-fi and sociopolitical change. I’d been writing speculative fiction for a long time and I spent much of my teenage years reading Octavia Butler’s novels, so when Walidah told me about the idea for Octavia’s Brood and asked me I would contribute something, I was all the way in.

TC

What was your inspiration for “22XX: One Shot”? Was it a piece you were already developing or did it come about once you were asked to participate in the Octavia’s Brood anthology?

JW

I wrote “22XX: One Shot” specifically for Octavia’s Brood. At the time I hadn’t written straight-ahead science fiction in a while. It was summer and I was teaching pre-college kids in the Bronx through a CUNY opportunity program that was particularly impactful for black and brown youth. I loved that class and the students were really special to me so I wanted to write something for them. I wanted them to see themselves in the future and to understand that even what seem like smallish acts of rebellion in the face of tyranny and injustice are important.

TC

What kind of impact have you seen Octavia’s Brood make since its publication in 2015? What role do you think politically motivated fiction can play in today’s climate?

JW

Walidah and adrienne can probably answer that first part better than I can, but I think it contributes to a very necessary change in the literary landscape, and by extension the culture. In my experience doing Octavia’s Brood readings and workshops with adrienne, Walidah, and Vagabond, it’s the way it empowers people to imagine possibilities for social change. Vagabond talks a lot about the need for radicals to demand the impossible, which advances Frederick Douglass’ assertion that power concedes nothing without demand, and that our demands ought to be rooted in the best kind of world and society we can imagine. 

In the conversations I’ve had with activists and radicals both during and after our readings and workshops, I get a lot of feedback about how Octavia’s Brood helps people to re-approach and re-imagine what they do. The visionary fiction workshop that Walidah and Morrigan Phillips developed is a big part of that. I think all of us have used it when we do Brood events and it leaves folks fired up and inspired to go back out there and do the kind of grassroots work that builds movements and makes things happen. It also helps those who may not necessarily see themselves as radical activists to realize that by imagining new ways of being that they actually are.

In general, I think politically motivated fiction can be galvanizing, especially when hopelessness seems to be around every corner. Forward-thinking literary movements like Afrofuturism and solar punk also provide visions and a language for future possibilities that don’t predispose us to doom and that remind us of the kinds of futures we’re fighting to create in the present.  

TC

In the current climate of the United States, I see a lot of people (myself included) criticizing the powers that be, while taking little action. How did you find your voice, and your place within activist circles/movements? How have those experiences shaped your writing? What guidance might you give to aspiring artists/activists?

JW

I’m a firm believer that you find your voice by speaking up when you’re afraid to and that the way to find your place is simply to fight where you stand. It’s also important to realize it’s not on our individual shoulders to save the world once and for all. It’s okay to work small-scale, even if we don’t live long enough to complete the work, just so long as we don’t abandon it. I think it’s also important to keep in mind that big, disruptive actions require increasing degrees of risk, and increasing risk requires strong, close networks of people to pull off. So, that’s where to start if folks don’t feel like they’re doing enough.

Personally, I don’t know if I’ve ever found my place, except for in myself. But that’s probably because I don’t think I’ve ever totally fit in anywhere in any part of my life. That’s just how I am—a nerdy little misfit. I just try to do what I can where I can and provide support—material or otherwise—to those doing what I can’t where I’m not.

It’s a bit tricky to say how my activist experiences have shaped my writing because my fiction is a messy stew of the personal, the political, and the cultural (just like me!). Even as a teenager, my stories always involved contending with oppressive forces and injustice, as they were a way to help me process my experiences of racism growing up, but I don’t think of any of my stories as particularly polemic.

If I could say anything to artists and activists, I’d say to both: do what you can with what you have, and, per Soundgarden, only settle for a little bit more than everything.

TC

What kinds of fiction or what particular authors have shaped your thinking? When writing fiction, what comes first: the concepts and ideals you want to explore, or the characters? Do you write with a political goal in mind?

JW

I grew up reading sci-fi and comic books in the 80s and 90s. I’ve always been an Octavia Butler superfan—I even got to meet her in my college days and managed to maintain consciousness the whole time! I’m also deeply influenced by the work of Steven Barnes, particularly his Aubrey Knight books. Same with Sam Delany, who I got to meet and eat paella with in grad school a couple years after meeting Octavia Butler. 

Also, Koushun Takami’s pulp novel Battle Royale is never far from my mind. That novel is an especially potent tale of survival and youthful rebellion against brutal, fascist tyranny. And over the last several years, Nnedi Okorafor, Deji Bryce Olukotun, N.K. Jemisin, China Mieville, and Tochi Onyebuchi have been setting my mind on fire. 

In my own work, I start with a core concept, usually stripped down to a fundamental conceit, and then very quickly I devise a group of characters to work through it. I generally don’t write with a political goal in mind, but I always write from a political place. It’s impossible not to.

TC

Your creative work is often set in outer space. What inspires you most about the cosmos?

JW

The irony to me is that for close to a decade, I purposely stayed away from overt sci-fi settings. Particularly during the early 2000s, I felt like it moved things too far away from present reality, so I focused a lot on writing slipstream stories in more “realistic” urban settings and lighter paranormal touches. Writing “22XX” showed me how wrong I was about that. Setting stories in space didn’t have to detach from the present. And the fact is that I feel most at home writing stories about outer space, so I had to re-embrace it. 

I’ve been enthralled by space since I was a child. I come from a family of Star Wars and Star Trek fans, so I’m very conditioned to think in gritty rebellions and aspire to utopian ideals. Also we live in an absolutely wondrous solar system—which is why I decided to set “22XX” in our own cosmic neighborhood. The infiniteness of space is quite compelling to me: it’s a place of possibility and hope and wonder, but it’s also daunting, bleak, and unforgiving. 

TC

What are you currently working on, politically and/or creatively? 

JW

Since I recently moved to a new city, I’m trying to get connected to grassroots community organizations and get involved where I can be useful. I also want to get more involved in direct anti-fascist actions, ’cause fuck those creeps. 

Creatively, I’m working on a novel titled Space Wizards! that is about a band of traumatized social justice warriors in space who’ve got one last shot at toppling a tyrannical technocracy—but only if they can shift their focus from changing power at the top to realizing a possibility that fundamentally changes everything. There are also lasers, cyborgs, giant monsters, cool aliens, and an interstellar jazz ensemble.   

An Interview with Malcolm Friend on the Seattle Mariners, La Sista’s Album Majestad Negroide, and Plátanos

Writers Talking About Anything but Writing is a series of interviews in which we ask writers to take a break from trying to document the world and just kinda chill out in it for a while.

Laura Villareal (LV)

The Mariners are one of two teams that have never made it to the World Series, but it seems like they have an extraordinarily loyal fan base. I read that Nintendo owns 10% of shares for the team and Macklemore even wrote a song about them. What’s it like being a fan?

Malcolm Friend (MF)

I was trying text between me and my siblings but couldn’t, so I’m going to approximate it as best I can. My little brother texted all of us after last MLB season started and the Mariners looked like they might make the playoffs (which they didn’t; shout out to the longest active postseason drought in North American sports at 17 straight years), and was telling us he and a friend were talking about how there’s some sort of experiment or simulation to see just how far people can be pushed in terms of their loyalty. After talking about it for a while, my brother came to the conclusion that the Seattle Mariners are that simulation, and exist simply to gauge how long fans can be loyal to the team, which I feel like is all that needs to be said there.

All jokes aside though, being a Mariners fan is essentially being Tantalus. Every now and again they get close to making the playoffs or get a great player. I’ve even been in attendance for two no hitters thrown by the Mariners, including Félix Hernández’s perfect game. I’ve gotten to see all-time greats such as Ken Griffey, Jr. and Edgar Martínez play. But any sniff of playoffs or success is immediately pulled away from us, only to be replaced by mediocrity and even sometimes outright ineptitude.

LV

That’s so funny! I’d totally believe the Mariners were an experiment in loyalty. It’s like you never know what you’ll get with the Mariners so you gotta keep watching. People love the thrill of uncertainty in almost winning and rooting for the underdog.

Do you think the Mariners will ever make it to the World Series?

MF

I don’t like to say never, but Chicago Cubs fans went 108 years between World Series titles, so they have until 2085 before I do.

LV

You stated, “La Sista’s debut album Majestad negroide being a heavily slept on Afrolatinx masterpiece” when I asked for three topics. Tell me a little bit more about that. What makes the album so good?

MF

What’s interesting about this album is that it came out in 2006, just a few years after Tego Calderón’s El Abayarde (2002), Don Omar’s The Last Don (2003), and Daddy Yankee’s Barrio Fino (2004), typically considered the holy trinity of reggaetón albums that helped popularize the genre, and Ivy Queen’s breakout Diva (2004), another album that helped boost reggaetón’s image and profile.

Why I find this album so compelling is that it’s rooted in blackness. La Sista (who I think now goes by La Zista) is from Loíza, typically considered the center of black culture in Puerto Rico. The title of the album itself is riffing off the poetry of Luis Palés Matos (specifically his poem “Majestad negra”), who is 1) considered the father of Afro-Puerto Rican poetry, inserting Afro-Puerto Rican culture into literature, but 2) an extremely controversial figure because there’s some uncertainty around whether or not he was actually black. La Sista also has a song on the album titled “Calabó y bambú,” a riff off another poem by Palés Matos, “Danza negra.” La Sista also has a titular song dedicated to Yemayá and incorporates bomba into the album, something that sonically does a lot for the album. And yet she doesn’t get the same type of recognition that Tego Calderón does in terms of repping Afro-Puerto Rican culture, or the type of recognition Ivy Queen does as an early female figure in the genre.

LV

That’s really, really interesting! There’s so much in your response that I want to discuss. Does riffing off Palés Matos work influence how you read La Sista’s music?

MF

Absolutely it does. I think it positions her music (or at the very least Majestad negroide) in an interesting space in any situation. If you’re of the belief that Palés Matos was black, then it positions her music as a clear cultural successor to Palés Matos in ways I’m not sure other Afro-Puerto Rican reggatón artists such as Tego Calderón and Don Omar would be. If you believe that Palés Matos wasn’t black, then La Sista’s music does important work reframing his poetry and presenting her own formulations of blackness in Puerto Rico, formulations that come out of her own lived experience.

LV

I know reggaetón has been criticized for both racism and sexism; do you think those might be reasons why La Sista hasn’t received recognition for her innovative work?

MF

I think it’s definitely a big and inescapable part of the equation. And it’s not just La Sista, of course. The question on gender points me to Glory, who became the female voice on a lot of early reggaetón tracks, voicing female desire for the male lead. Despite providing two of the biggest lines during reggaetón’s explosion (“Dale papi, que estoy suelta como gabete,” from Don Omar’s “Dale, Don, dale,” and “Dame más gasolina,” Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina”), her solo career never really took off. Félix Jiménez, in the essay “(W)rapped in Foil: Glory at Twelve Minutes or Less,” points out the same embrace of sensuality and sexuality that helped propel the careers of men like Don Omar and Daddy Yankee worked against Glory when she released her solo album Glou. Jiménez states that Glory’s features on those tracks “had the twofold consequence of securing for her a place in reggaeton’s tight family and, most of all, keeping her in her place.”

In terms of race, reggaetón in a lot of ways follows a similar story as salsa, where black voices (and faces) get pushed out in favor of their lighter-skinned counterparts. This is ever-present in a world where J. Balvin, Maluma, and Karol G are quickly becoming the new mainstream faces of the genre. But the overlap of race and gender really jumps out when folks continually come back to Tego Calderón as the black artist honoring black culture in his music. While La Sista certainly does get credit in some circles for incorporating bomba into her music, as Petra Rivera-Rideau points out in Remixing Reggaetón, she doesn’t see the same type of international success as Tego Calderón.

LV

What are your top three songs from Majestad negroide? 

MF

“Calabó y bambú,” “Rulé candela,” and “Alcabones de la letra” (a collaboration with Chyno Nyno and Ñejo).

LV

We can both agree plátanos are a perfect food, but where do you stand in the great plátano debate? Which is better: maduros or tostones?

MF

I’ve always been partial to tostones. When you get just the right double-fry on the plátano and they come out perfectly crispy, nothing can beat some good tostones. That being said, the correct answer to any plátano debate is mofongo.

One of the most striking things about your book is its style. Long sentences broken by short ones, a 40-page section that’s all one paragraph. Talk to me about the import of the form to What Belongs to You.

The first section of the book, “Mitko,” was the first piece of fiction I had ever written. Up to that point, I had done all of my creative work as a writer in poetry. My first education in the arts was in music, specifically opera. I thought a lot about the structure of the aria, which is related to lyric poetry. I think those were probably the biggest influences on my sense of form going into writing “Mitko” because I really had no idea what I was doing. At every step of writing the book, I didn’t have a sense of a whole I was working toward. Instead, I was really thinking about it sentence by sentence and moment by moment.

Even though I’d never written or studied prose, I’ve always loved novels. They’ve been really important to my life as a reader. In terms of prose stylists, I often say that I have a holy trinity of authors: Thomas Bernhard, who often writes in block paragraphs and certainly was an influence on the second section of the book; W.G. Sebald, whom I first read in graduate school and who first helped me imagine the possibility of writing creative prose; and Javier Marías, a Spanish novelist. In a certain sense, I think that those writers all have very patient ways of writing. They’re willing to stay in a moment until they’ve mined everything possible from it. That’s a lesson that I tried to take. I also thought about writers like Henry James, Virginia Woolf, and Proust, who are all masters of that kind of writing. That’s the tradition I feel I’m working within.

It was very interesting to read the book as a publisher. You break the rules that we’ve been following for years—don’t use long sentences, don’t use prolix language, certainly don’t have a 40-page section with only one paragraph. It was a weird and unsettling thing to read your book, and to see how well it worked.

The truth is that I didn’t know any better. I’d never been in a class where I saw what those things look like in student work, so the only references I had were the people who do it really brilliantly like James and those other writers that I mentioned.

As a reader, I love lots of different kinds of books. I love books that are richly and vividly imaginative. But as a writer, this invention that speeds a plot along a horizontal axis doesn’t interest me so much as the vertical axis of a moment suspended in time. I’m more interested in wondering: What is the experience of this consciousness at this moment? What are the possibilities? This is something that lyric poems do: they freeze time and try to articulate all the information that we’re taking in at every moment—or not all of it, but a larger part of it than we’re usually aware of. I wanted to pause and think: How am I experiencing this moment, this relationship, this human interaction? That’s something that I think that literature can do better than the other arts: give us that experience of deep consciousness.

As you mentioned, you do really interesting things with time in this novel. Can you tell me about how you conceptualized the structure of the book in that sense?

The book is structured in this weird way: three parts, the first and third of which basically tell a linear narrative. Really, I hope that the whole narrative is told in the first sentence of the book. There’s this relationship that’s going to involve betrayal—everything is telegraphed in that first sentence. That first section takes place over a period of a few months, from fall to spring. There’s a gap of a couple of years, and then the next section takes place over a few months. There’s not a lot of time covered—three years, but two of them aren’t really narrated.

The second section took me by surprise, by storm. I wasn’t expecting to write it. When I finished “Mitko,” the first section, I thought that was the whole story. But I was walking around this very hot day in the particular geography of this place, and I was seized by this voice. I don’t know another way to put it. It hasn’t happened to me before or since. I went to a café and just started trying to notate that voice on the back of a receipt, scraps of paper—it was like I had to write it on trash.

What that long, forty-page block paragraph allows the narrator to do, I think, is explore these different levels of time. It’s like a solution that has different densities; you can float up and down through the different densities of his past and come back up for air in this neighborhood that he’s walking through, the things he’s actually seeing. That form really happened organically. The first draft of it was very long, much longer than what’s in the book, but it basically had the shape of what’s in the book.

When I finished it, I couldn’t touch it for over a year. It made me almost physically sick. But when I finally came back to it, the revisions were mostly about cutting and editing and trying to reshape sentences. The basic time structure of the different periods in his life and the order was really there in the first draft. It always felt right, even with multiple timelines happening simultaneously. It felt like that was what that section had to do.

There’s a very common critique of queer literature that it alienates readers, but this is a story that feels very universal. I’m curious: do you think this book could have worked if the character were straight?

No, I don’t think it could have worked that way. The book is really invested in communities that are particular to queer experience, these cruising communities that don’t exist in the same ways in straight life. There’s a tradition of writing about gay prostitution in literature, but there’s also a long tradition of writing about prostitution between men and women. It seems to me that the power dynamics are so different, and the context in which sex work happens between men and women is so different. It would have been a radically different kind of book.

But it’s sort of the magic of literature that it arrives at the universal through the particular. Very often, people ask me if I think of myself as a gay writer. The answer is yes, absolutely. There’s a tradition of queer writing that not only my life as a writer but just my life would be impossible to imagine without. I feel like and I hope that I’m writing for queer people and people who emerge from the kinds of communities that I write about in the book. It is not despite, but because of the fact that it’s rooted in those communities that the book has that universal resonance. I think that this story would be completely different if it were not set in the context of gay relationships and the queer communities that form around particular kinds of sexual practices. It’s also important that the book is set in this very particular place: the post-socialist margin of Europe in Bulgaria. Queer people are among the most marginalized segments of the population there because it’s a deeply homophobic place. This is a book about a person who is intensely vulnerable. He’s a quasi-homeless man who gets by to the extent he gets by through sex work. So all of those things I think are really rooted in a particular place and in particular communities and in a particular historical moment.

Shame is difficult to write about well, yet you made it feel so close to all of the characters. What was it like, as a writer, to write about the things that we like to look away from?

For me, the scariest part was the second section. I was exploring the geography of my own childhood, and trying to think about the ramifications of growing up in a place where, as a queer person, the only story you’re told about your life is that it has no value. Right now, there’s this very triumphant narrative happening about LGBT rights and lives, a very meaningful narrative of progress. At the same time, it is still the case that in most of the world, queer people have to fight for their lives. That’s still true in the United States. We still live in a world where queer people are taught that their lives are meaningless.

For instance, take the narrator of the book. Even though he comes from the West, even though he’s been exposed to a different kind of world, even though he’s out, even though he’s comfortable with his identity as a gay person, the base of that identity is still rooted in shame. And while that’s not reducible to his sexuality, it’s not just about being gay or because he’s gay, it is particular to the circumstances of his life. The fact of gay shame is something that we cannot lose sight of. I think it’s dangerous to forget about that in the shadow of this triumphant, homonormative narrative in which we’re all pairing up and having kids. It’s wonderful that those rights and responsibilities are available to queer people, but that’s not the only narrative of queer life, and it doesn’t erase decades of stigma. That’s still very much with us.

I’m curious. When you think of What Belongs to You, who do you think the real hero is?

I don’t think the book has a hero under the typical connotations of that term. That’s an interesting question, and I guess I hope that it’s one that can’t be answered. In one sense, the narrator is the book’s center of gravity, the camera. The interior progress of the narrator and his evolving understanding of himself and his relationship with Mitko is the dominating narrative of the book. At the same time, though, I think that the book succeeds or fails to the extent that Mitko is available to the reader’s empathy and compassion and emotional investment as a human being independent of the narrator.

But really, I hope that question is finally unanswerable between the two of them. I hope that both characters are independent centers of value in the book.

If you think about the hero as the person who shows the most courage, does your answer change?

That’s such an interesting way to think about that question. To me, there is something extraordinarily courageous in Mitko. To a remarkable extent, I think Mitko does live life on his own terms. To me, one of the most remarkable things about Mitko is the extent to which he seems free from shame, free from the kind of ambivalence that paralyzes the narrator. There’s this phrase that I stole from a favorite poet of mine, Fernando Pessoa: “squeamishness about existence.” In the book, the narrator says that Mitko has no squeamishness about existence. To me, that’s a remarkably brave attitude to take toward the world, especially when the circumstances of your life seem to encourage squeamishness.

On the other hand, I do think that the narrator faces up to things, finally. He faces up to things he’s been avoiding through most of the book, about how he relates to the world and how he at once has this great longing for connection and also keeps everyone and everything at arm’s length. I do think that there is some courage in facing up to that. I also think there’s real courage in that fourteen-year-old who refuses to deny his own existence to his father. If there’s a moment of real courage in the book, I think that’s it.

Although the book deals with a great deal of tragedy, there are several moments of pure contentment…which somehow manage to make the low points in the narrative even sadder. Do you think this is a good reflection of life in general?

Well, at least a life with a particular kind of sensibility. There’s a relationship in the book that the narrator has with R that we don’t learn a lot about. What I’m writing now is a collection of short stories that kind of fit into the interstices of the novel, and a lot of them tell the story between the narrator and R. It’s not like those are happy stories, but there is a different vision of what fullness might look like that is maybe not as obviously or inevitably self-destructive as the relationship with Mitko.

In some ways, this kind of troubles me. As a writer, I don’t think I’ve found a way to write fully into more sustainable moments. Not moments of ecstasy, necessarily, but that middle realm of happiness where one really wants to live. You don’t really want to live in ecstasy—you want to live in something like contentment, where you’re aware of the non-tragic value of your experience. My life does have those moments; my sense of the world has those moments. To be the kind of writer I want to be, I have to learn how to write into those moments. That’s a challenge.

So you’ve been both a poet and prose writer. Which do you think works for you? How do you think your voice is coming out best?

I guess the answer to that is prose. Poetry is still a big part of my life, but not as a writer. I haven’t written poetry in five or six years. Prose opens doors, writerly interior doors in a way that poetry doesn’t for me. My experience of writing prose is much more an experience of discovery and surprise than writing poetry was, though I’m not sure why. I remember when I was first writing “Mitko,” I would just follow the sentence and have this experience of a trap door opening beneath my feet, leaving me in a place where I hadn’t expected to go, a moment I hadn’t expected to explore. It was really exhilarating. It still is.

Samantha Samakande

What is your favorite place to read?  
My favorite place to read is in bed, under a puffy duvet sometime in the very early morning, as I hold in squeals of delight or shock (or both) and try not wake my husband, because the book is just THAT good.

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?
The trail up the mountain is a deception. It is the kind of incline whose slant seems very slight at first, but whose steepness sneaks up on you little by little. My own breath begins to lumber out my throat like a fibrous and heavy beast, such that when I happen upon a door tucked snuggly into the side of the mountain, I am struck, immediately, by the urge to open the door. Perhaps there is a place to rest behind that door. Perhaps any horror that could await me on the other side could not be worse than physically exerting myself in this way. With each thought, I feel myself move closer to the door. It is as if by pure gravitational force, that I am being suctioned to this door. The tips of my fingers graze the knob, slick and cold as ice, and almost reluctantly grip it—almost. As I am about to turn the metal, I whisper to myself… “nope.” I release the door, and continue up the mountain.

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.
It is very rare to find me sipping coffee, and even then, it is decaf with a lot of cream and sugar. I am, however, a tea fiend. Some of my favorites are green/matcha, rooibos, jasmine, peach, and of course any rich, black, and bitter black tea I can get my hands on. (I also have a secret addiction to Fanta.)

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?
I am generally attracted to words that are extremely vivid, words that create a concrete and tangible image in one’s mind, words that feel like you can almost taste them on your tongue. I am especially delighted when such words are complicated by being used to describe things they would never usually be associated with.

Some of my favorite words right now are: fibrous, suction, sip, sloppy, spilling, skin, spit, splatter, invade, plastic, etc. (I am apparently gravitating towards “s” sounds this season).

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?
On a deserted island, I am going Bombay Bicycle Club all the way. So Long, See You Tomorrow and A Different Kind of Fix are my absolute favorite albums by them, but really any one of their albums would hit the spot, because they pay such close attention each instrument and how they all interact with each other to tell such complex stories of sound. Also, Jack Steadman’s voice turns me into a goo every time.

As for a book, I think I would choose either one of Catherine Lacey’s books, The Answers or Nobody is Ever Missing or, I may even go with Aja Gabel’s The Ensemble. I am just so drawn to books that have great emotional and philosophical depth, as well as that have internalized characters with intricate “thought worlds” and “landscapes of feeling” (as I like to call them).

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?
I wish there was more diversity on the business side of publishing. I feel that seeking out different kinds of stories to tell, and publishing writers across difference is not enough. The literary industry needs to do better in terms of creating access for and retaining people from various, unique backgrounds or identities behind the scenes, where the real systemic power is- where decisions are made about what stories are told, whose stories are told, and how these stories are talked about and evaluated.

Kathy Nguyen

What is your favorite place to read?  
It’s not the most original answer, but I love to read in the library! Public libraries are always the best. When I was a kid, my dad would take me to the library every Saturday to borrow books to read before bed, so I suppose the habit of going there often has stuck. 

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?
I would definitely open the door—you miss all the shots you don’t take, after all! As for what would be behind it, I would like to imagine that I’d have stumbled across a Room of Requirement type of situation, with the door leading me to wherever I would need to be most at the moment.  

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.
I could never get into coffee. (I know—outrageous!) I drink tea instead, although I’m not so much of a stickler for how I make it. Often the tea is something herbal, and less often the water is hot. I get so excited about preparing the tea, but after I’ve poured it I usually put the mug aside to focus on my work. Soon I forget about it and get stuck with a lukewarm beverage!

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?
My favourite words change all the time! Right now, I would say my favourite English/Italian word is “chiaroscuro,” which refers to the contrast between light and dark. I came across the word as a kid reading Kate DiCamillo’s The Tale of Despereaux, and I think about it from time to time.

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?
I would bring along Beyoncé’s self-titled album, because I would need her kind of confidence to get me out of this mess that is being stranded on a deserted island. I would also bring a copy of Yann Martel’s Life of Pi to remind myself of the importance of having a bit of faith.

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?
If I could change one thing about the literary industry, I would make it so that everyone would have equal access to the content it creates and the opportunities it affords. There are of course many ways to go about this, but for me I would like to see more support given to libraries so they can continue to provide the resources that enrich us as individuals and as a community. 

Jerekah Greene

What is your favorite place to read?
I love to read on my front porch in Oklahoma in the dead of summer, when it’s so hot outside that the pages stick together. 

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?
I’m going to assume the mountain is The Lonely Mountain, so that would mean the door leads to Erebor. In my daydreams I’m always in Middle Earth.

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.
With milk!

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?
I think “love” is my favorite word in the English language. That sounds cheesy, and it totally is, but I think it’s pretty incredible that we captured that feeling and put it in a word. 

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?
I think the album would have to be Thank Your Lucky Stars by Beach House, because they’re the only band who can really calm me down. The book is more difficult. Do I say Harry Potter because it’s my comfort read? Do I say Female Masculinity by Judith/Jack Halberstam to make myself sound sophisticated? I think, in all honesty, it has to be Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg. Few books have understood me like that one, so it would probably make a good companion.

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?
I would like the literary industry to be a lot more like Dolly Parton. She has donated millions of books to children who otherwise wouldn’t have had access to them. She is selfless and gorgeous and immensely talented, and even if literary agencies and publishers can’t channel her country music powers, maybe they could try to channel her selflessness and commitment to reading. 

Giancarlo Riccobon

What is your favorite place to read?  
My imagination. Because when you’re reading, you shouldn’t be wherever you just sat down to read. You should be transported to wherever the characters reside, and not come back until dinnertime.

In all seriousness, I like to read in some secluded place until everyone forgets I’m even there (and sometimes I forget I’m even there). Places like the sunroom in my house, or the break room at the library. I know of one library that has a little nook in the window designed just for reading. It’s a sort of padded cubby with the teen room on one side and a second-story window on the other. You can’t beat that.

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?
Hoping to find a bit of dragon’s treasure, I open the door. Then I gape in horror at what I see. Before me is a metropolis choked with smog. The roads seem to go ever on, clogged with horseless carriages, and there is not a single Hobbit Hill in sight.

Everything is so strange and unfamiliar, and the only place I seem to fit in is a place called “LOTR Cosplay”—whatever that is. “Love your feet,” one of my kinsmen tells me. “The hair looks so realistic!”

Yet, after tasting my first slushie, I don’t feel so alone, and I start to think that maybe I can survive in this strange new world. At least until I am pursued by a guy with a typewriter under one arm, who tells me to get my butt back into my story or he’ll kill me off.

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.
Actually, the only way I take my coffee is in the form of chilled cafe latte. (Please don’t kill me, but for some reason I don’t care for hot drinks.) Beware, I slurp loudly.

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?
Some of my runner-ups include facetious, inarticulate, idiosyncrasy, plutonian, and dastardly. But my favorite is zeugma, and I will take every opportunity to say it. I’m just tickled at how a zeugma allows you to play with the meanings of words and use the same word in two different senses. (Example in a sentence: “The intern gave his interviewer a thank-you card and a headache.”) I dare you to find something that rhymes with it.

Plus, I love the word Bildungsroman, which comes from the German words “bildung” (education) and “roman” (novel). Aside from being fun to say, it also describes a kind of story I can’t get enough of—the coming-of-age story.

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?
If I could only bring one album, then I’d take The Lion King Musical Broadway Cast Recording. There’s a lot of cultural specificity to the music, especially the songs performed in various African languages, yet the story still manages to be universal. I would probably spend a lot of time playing the most uplifting songs, like “He Lives in You” or “Shadowland,” on loop. My book of choice would be The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak. There are so many layers, so many hidden gems on every page, waiting to be discovered. I would have many colorful, lovingly-drawn characters to keep me company—like Max, who gets into a lot of fistfights even though he always loses, or Rudy, who runs down the racetrack covered in coal dust because he wants to be like Jesse Owens. Since The Book Thief explores how books give us something to hold onto in even the bleakest of circumstances, it makes an ideal desert-island read. Though, I would bring a hardback version, probably with a waterproof covering. I’ve been waiting for a good time to reread it (so I can appreciate it all the more), and being stranded on a desert island is the perfect way to catch up on my reading!

How soon does my desert island getaway begin?

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?
If I could change one thing about the literary industry, I would end the vicious circle of “We’ll publish it only if we can sell it.” The literary industry has come to the point where most mainstream publishers will only publish something they know will sell well. A big factor that markets will consider when they are deciding to publish a book would be its comp titles—that is, similar books that have already published. Big-name publishers often use comps as a way of predicting how smoothly something will sail in the publishing world—and avoiding anything that is “too risky.” As a result, that means most markets will only publish something if it’s already been done before. Which means that, excluding a handful of independent presses, we have a system that discourages originality! In some cases, this approach also puts marginalized communities at a disadvantage. Publishers may be less likely to invest in something by/for/about certain minorities simply because there is a smaller audience for them.

Saira Mahmood

What is your favorite place to read?  
My own room. I love to read in bed.

You’re walking up the side of a mountain along a winding, wooded path. You look to your left and discover, by chance, a door in the side of the mountain. Do you open it, and if so, where does it lead?
I open it and it leads to a point in an alternate timeline where machines do all the work, and we’ve solved the problem of income inequality. Everyone has roughly the same amount of money and we spend our time making great art, enjoying life and debating how to make society better. The bees are okay, and life is good. 

How do you take your coffee? If you don’t drink coffee, describe your favorite beverage ritual.
I don’t drink coffee and don’t really have a favorite beverage. I love most carbonated drinks equally for the same reason everyone else does. I’ll treat myself once a month or so to a cold Fanta after walking around my university in the blistering Karachi heat. 

What is your favorite English word and why? Do you have a favorite word in another language?
My favorite English word is rendezvous because I grew up pronouncing it wrong. I’d read it and heard it but never put the sound and spelling together. I was sure it was ‘ren-dizz-wos’ until I was fifteen or something. I still find that hilarious.

I have too many favorite words in Urdu but the one that jumps immediately to mind is ‘fanaa’ (فناء) which sort of means ‘destroyed’ but is used to talk about the destruction and subjugation of the self when one is in love.

You’re on a deserted island. You have one album and one book. What are they and why?
Pakistani sufi-rock band Junoon’s fourth studio album Azadi (translation: freedom) because of its unique sound, catchy tunes, and nostalgia.  It was released in 1997, which is just two years after I was born, and was playing everywhere in Pakistan in the 2000s when I was growing up. I still catch myself humming the songs despite not having listened to it properly for years. 

The book would be Louis Sachar’s Holes. It’s for young adults – but wonderfully written and keeps you gripped till the last page. Once you’re done, you’ll want to read it again whenever you need to relax. I’m very envious of Sachar and really want to write like him.

If you could change one thing about the literary industry, what would it be?
I’d stop them from publishing books about the Muslim world that are rooted in poorly researched and overgeneralized stereotypes. If you’ve read one orientalist take on oppressed women and seething patriarchs in Pakistan, you’ve read them all.

An aversion to plagiarism has been instilled in us from an early age. When it comes to writing, to creating with the written word, “No stealing” has always been perhaps the most important rule. It got even more serious in academia with plagiarism statements taking up full pages of syllabi and websites like Turnitin tracking every phrase.  We’ve learned early and often that unless we write every single word on our own, we run the risk of getting locked up for using the same phrase as Hawthorne.

The first time I had to turn in a paper through Turnitin, I remember seeing the percentage of my paper that was “plagiarized” pop up on my screen like flashing police lights in a rearview mirror. Here was a website that could track how similar my paper was to any source on the internet. Even proper nouns and articles didn’t feel safe anymore.

Perhaps this fearful necessity to be completely original is what makes fan fiction so taboo. Kids who grew up being told plagiarism was absolutely the worst thing ever (murder a man? No big deal. Copy a phrase from a book? Pandemonium) were suddenly finding stories online with the same characters from published books written by entirely different, unauthorized authors. Sure, these stories were practically plagiarism, but they weren’t hurting anyone right?  It wasn’t like they existed anywhere except the internet or scribbled in schoolbooks to show friends.

Until, suddenly, they did.

It’s not exactly a secret that Fifty Shades of Grey unfortunately got its start as Twilight fan fiction. Or perhaps even more in our faces now are the books that are being plucked right off of Wattpad and published after a few simple name changes. There’s a whole book series by Anna Todd that sits on my friend’s bookshelf that had its beginning as One Direction fan fiction. The books have the Wattpad logo and her username on them, so their origin is absolutely no secret.

Around the same time that Anna Todd was breaking out of the computer screen and into the publishing world, Rainbow Rowell published Fangirl, a book about a college freshman who is trying to balance her real life with updating her extremely popular fan fiction online. It was the first time I had ever seen fan fiction so normalized in a book. Here was an actual published author, someone older than what I had considered the “fan fiction generation,” acknowledging fan fiction in a positive way. Then, she struck again when she published Carry On two years later, a published version of the fan fiction that Rowell’s main character, Cath, wrote during the plot of Fangirl.

Still, I felt that there was no way this could actually be considered a real art form. Fan fiction would never be as highly regarded as original fiction, even if a lot of times the only similarities between fan fiction and the original work were the names and some of the skeleton character traits. Fan fiction was often just like using a prompt off of a website, and yet, it still felt dirty.

Then I was introduced to black out poetry (also known as erasures) during an after-school program at my local library. We tore pages out of old books and made poems by keeping certain words on the page and erasing the rest with dark markers so that what remained was something completely new. It was a fun activity that I thought of as just that and nothing more

It wasn’t until I became a little more acquainted with the slam poetry scene in college that I realized erasures are much more than a fun little activity. They’re a very serious art form. Poets are able to perform erasures at open mics. Beard Press Poetry has published books of entirely Fall Out Boy or Taylor Swift erasures. Hanif Abdurraqib has a published poem called “The Author Writes the First Draft of His Wedding Vows” which is an erasure of Virginia Woolf’s suicide note to her husband, Leonard. It was originally published online and now has a home in his book, The Crown Ain’t Worth Much.

Even though the erasure form only leaves the words the erasing poet selects, the rest of the text is still kept on the page in white so as to keep the original placement of the remaining words. This gives erasures very unique formats with some words being separated by whole lines or new words being created by taking half of one word and pairing it with half of another. Erasures don’t try to hide that they’ve been taken from something else. Suddenly, something that seemed to have been so taboo, something that was almost akin to plagiarism, is regarded as its own special art form.

At first glance, neither fan fiction nor erasures seem like they should be put in the same categories as other art forms because they’re not original work. Instead these two art forms seem to be more of a tribute to the original work. They’re prompts or jumping off points to get the writer to where they need to go, and it seems to me that there’s nothing wrong with modeling your writing off of someone else you admire. If a world is important to you, but a character’s backstory isn’t touched on, why not write it yourself? Or why not literally take the parts of a song you like and erase the parts you don’t?

It seems less like plagiarism and more like a rebirth.