When James Lee Burke’s Cimarron Rose came out last year, his hardcore fans (me included) were disappointed that it did not feature Cajun cop Dave Robicheaux. Turns out we needn’t have worried; Cimarron Rose was excellent in its own right, and nominated for the prestigious Edgar Award for Best Mystery of 1997.
This year, Robicheaux is back in Sunset Limited, a darkly atmospheric tale of racism, greed, and revenge. Some 40 years back as a boy in school, Robicheaux had been acquainted with a girl named Megan Flynn, the daughter of a radical labor organizer. Robicheaux and his father had the sobering experience of discovering Megan’s father Jack Flynn crucified with 16-penny nails against a barn wall. The killers were never found. In the intervening years, Robicheaux went to Vietnam, returned more or less intact, and became a police officer in the Louisiana bayou country. Megan Flynn bounced in and out of foster homes and picked fruit with the migrant workers before finding her niche as a photojournalist. Drawn to controversial stories, Megan has now come back to New Iberia Parish to investigate an alleged case of prison abuse, but it soon becomes clear that she has another agenda in mind: stirring up ghosts.
In his previous novels, Burke has woven a bayou tapestry of past and present, drawing on the rich history of the region: the Civil War, the offshore oil boom, segregation, and the good ol’ boy network. Sunset Limited is no exception. In many respects, the past lives on in the children; the privilege (or the lack thereof) leaves scars that become part of the genetic material, passing from generation to generation. Old scores, some dating back to the Lincoln era, fester in the bayou milieu.
In Robicheaux, Burke has created a complex hero: unbendingly loyal to those who have earned his trust; strong, yet tender and sensitive; the aesthete jock who finds sustenance in his surroundings, his wife, and his adopted daughter. Any new James Lee Burke novel is cause for a visit to your local bookstore or library; a Dave Robicheaux story is doubly so. Sunset Limited should be on the short list for 1998’s Edgar Award consideration.
When James Lee Burke's Cimarron Rose came out last year, his hardcore fans (me included) were disappointed that it did not feature Cajun cop Dave Robicheaux. Turns out we needn't have worried; Cimarron Rose was excellent in its own right, and nominated for the prestigious…
Author Mohsin Hamid’s haunting performance of his powerful 2007 novel, The Reluctant Fundamentalist, leaves listeners with much to ponder about their own visceral reactions to the story’s balancing act between peace and paranoia, pensiveness and fear.
Changez is the charming, mannered yet disquieting Pakistani narrator of this first-person story. He’s dining with an unnamed American at a cafe in Lahore, Pakistan, and over the course of the evening, Changez acknowledges and sympathizes with the American’s discomfort at being in a foreign setting—and at having Changez for an uninvited dinner guest.
Changez tells the American about how he left Lahore for the promises of the United States, graduated from Princeton University, landed a job at a highly respected firm and began to feel like he belonged to his adopted country. But after 9/11, fueled by xenophobic rhetoric and misunderstanding, many Americans began to question Changez’s identity and loyalty.
Hamid’s narration marries a sense of calm with the possibility of ill will that begins to crescendo over the course of the novel. Is Changez a threat to the American? By wondering this, are we, the listener, responding in an unfairly distrustful and shameful manner? What is the danger, and how are we participating in it? Hamid’s enlightening new recording highlights the lasting relevance of this provocative novel.
The 1990s may be a decade often lamented for its generation of “slackers” and eternally epitomized in the TV series “Seinfeld” (frequently described as “a show about nothing”), but Chuck Klosterman has found a treasure trove of history, nostalgia and pop culture relics to explore in The Nineties (12.5 hours). Each chapter is devoted to a defining characteristic or experience of Generation X, from VHS tapes and Blockbuster video stores to the strange phenomenon dubbed “the Mandela Effect,” in which whole swaths of people remember things differently than the way they actually happened. Klosterman narrates the audiobook in an almost tongue-in-cheek fashion, with acclaimed voice actor Dion Graham reading the footnotes and quotations.
Klosterman discusses the ’90s with both the intimacy of someone who lived through the decade and the authority of the beloved pop culture commentator that he has established himself as through 12 previous books. The Nineties provides a fascinating, granular look at a defining period of history, and if you’re listening on your smartphone, you’ll connect even stronger with Klosterman’s examination of an era that marked the “end to an age where we controlled technology more than it controlled us.”
The Nineties provides a fascinating, granular look at a defining period of history, and author Chuck Klosterman narrates in an almost tongue-in-cheek fashion.
Brené Brown invites listeners to get vulnerable in Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience (8.5 hours). Drawing from her research and personal experiences, Brown offers a new framework for building healthy relationships by analyzing common emotions such as compassion, fear and anger.
Brown narrates this audiobook with gentleness and expertise, and when she speaks about serious topics, she is sincere without being somber. Because Atlas of the Heart is a highly visual book, she’s taken steps to ensure that the audiobook is just as engaging as the print edition, with extra examples and stories that are exclusive to the recorded version. This small touch is a microcosm of Brown’s earnest intentions as a writer and narrator.
Listening to Atlas of the Heart is like sitting down with a trusted mentor. With both humility and authority, Brown helps readers stay engaged and encouraged, even as her book dives into difficult, tender ideas. Tune in for a challenging and inspiring listen.
Because Atlas of the Heart is a highly visual book, Brené Brown assures listeners that she's taken steps to ensure that the audiobook is just as engaging, with additional stories exclusive to the recording.
Life is one long journey, and men and women take different approaches to the adventure. Best-selling author Gail Sheehy takes us along for part of the trip from a man’s point of view, with her new book, Understanding Men’s Passages. Sheehy demonstrates how the trek of life has changed for men in the past few years with the development of new social conditions and medical advances.
“Most men as they approach 40 or later ages will run into passages for which they were never prepared,” writes Sheehy. As traditional roles of men and women become more or less a thing of the past, men find themselves more confused than ever as they approach middle age. Sheehy reveals that the stereotypes of men in their 30s, 40s, and 50s are just not accurate anymore. In hundreds of extensive interviews with men from all over the country, men talk about their concerns about the effects of aging: loss of physical stamina, sex drive, prestige. As baby boomers approach “middle age,” Sheehy finds that aside from changes here and there most still consider themselves the same person they were when they were 25 or 30. Interestingly, for those in their 50s, 60s, and beyond, there are ways in which this seems to be true. “Retirement is an obsolete concept for boomers,” reports Sheehy, who talked to a number of men in the midst of post-retirement careers. “Male menopause” is a subject few have dared talk about, but Sheehy forges ahead, prompting discussions on hormone treatments, impotency, virility, family matters, staying active, and examining the comments of men who have experienced this “change of life.” Every reader will gain something from Understanding Men’s Passages; men can see themselves and women can see their husbands, fathers, significant others, and friends. Sheehy’s detailed research and straightforward style helps to unveil this silent topic, and aims to enable men to prepare and endure the passages of life and, hopefully, learn something about themselves in the process.
Reviewed by Paul Ladd.
Life is one long journey, and men and women take different approaches to the adventure. Best-selling author Gail Sheehy takes us along for part of the trip from a man's point of view, with her new book, Understanding Men's Passages. Sheehy demonstrates how the trek…
It’s rare for a novelist to read their own audiobook. Most authors who step up to the mic are recording nonfiction, with fiction audiobooks typically being performed by a voice actor or full cast. But Booker Prize finalist Mohsin Hamid possesses transportive powers as an audiobook narrator, and with new recordings of his first two novels, Moth Smoke and The Reluctant Fundamentalist(4.5 hours), he has now narrated all five of his books.
Told in a first-person monologue by a Pakistani man named Changez to an unnamed American at a cafe in Lahore not long after 9/11, The Reluctant Fundamentalist makes for an especially powerful listening experience as, over the course of one evening, a sense of dread builds and demands a reckoning. For his first ever interview on his work as a narrator, Hamid took a video call at his home in Pakistan to discuss this “one-man play.”
When writing The Reluctant Fundamentalist, how much did you think about what it would be like to step into the role of author-narrator-character? I sort of wrote all of my books as audiobooks. I didn’t realize this until years later, but I really do think of literature or fiction as something we absorb through our aural circuitry more than our visual circuitry. Many of us read books with our eyes—some people read with their fingers or with their ears, as with audiobooks—but so many of us grew up reading with our eyes, so it’s a very visual experience, and the way things look should be important. But I tend to feel that the circuitry involved is still very much the circuitry of sound and language and rhythm and cadence.
One of the formative moments for me as a writer was taking a creative writing workshop with Toni Morrison back in 1993 spring in college. . . . And one thing she did in her class is that she would read our work aloud back to us. She could make a Corn Flakes box sound like poetry. She was the greatest reader I ever encountered, and when she would read . . . I thought, “Wow, I can really write! I’ve got it!”
She said things like, “You want to keep your reader a sort of half-heartbeat ahead of the action, so that what comes next can be a surprise, but it should feel like it was inevitable.” . . . One of the ways we do that in cinema, for example, is through the soundtrack, which suggests movements and motions and directions even while the visuals are doing something else. In written fiction, cadence and sound and rhythm can begin to establish these sorts of movements and directions, so that you have the chance of this feeling of inevitability.
“I’d always imagined it as this almost stage story, and suddenly I was on this stage, and it felt oddly like coming full circle.”
The Reluctant Fundamentalist wasn’t originally conceived as a 9/11 novel. You finished its first draft prior to that day, but as the world changed, so did your book. Now we have the opportunity to revisit your 9/11 novel with the gift of hindsight. What do you think is its place in our current reading environment? It’s hard for me to answer that. I remember once being at this literary festival in Mantua, Italy. And as I say this, I should make clear that my life is not spent at literary festivals in Mantua, Italy. It was as exotic for me to be there as it is to say it to you now, but there I was under some clock tower in the open air, the stars above us, and Russell Banks was there. . . . I knew that a book of his had come out recently, and I had asked him if he was happy with how it had done and, you know, the usual chitchat you try to make with some literary icon when you’re this young kid who’s written a book or two. And he said something that stuck with me.
He said, “You know, it’s too soon to say. . . . It’s not until about 10 years after a book comes out that you begin to have a sense of what it’s doing. And the reasons why people are still reading it 10 years on are probably what you actually did. That’s what people got from it.” This is the kind of thing you go to literary festivals for, so that some much more experienced writer can unload this wisdom on you. The Reluctant Fundamentalist is now 15 years old, so it’s past the Russell Banks 10-year law, and I think people still seem to be reading it.
I wrote that book very much with the idea of the reader as a kind of character. Not that the novel is addressed to you, necessarily, but the book is a kind of half novel. We never hear half of the story; we never hear Changez’s interlocutor really say anything. Even more than most novels—or all novels, by virtue of being pieces of ink printed on paper that require a transmutation by the reader that makes them come alive—this book, because so much of it is missing, [forces the reader] to try and restabilize this narrative. The book was intended as a way for the reader to encounter how they feel about the story. What are the instincts that it provokes in them? What are their inclinations? Who do you think is threatening whom? Why? And it leads you, in a sense, to a position that isn’t quite resolved, and so you have to figure out either how to resolve it or what that unresolved state makes you feel. And I think it still does that, I imagine.
The form of The Reluctant Fundamentalist, which is this dramatic monologue, is really akin to a one-man play. So in doing an audiobook, I was performing that one-man play. I’d always imagined it as this almost stage story, and suddenly I was on this stage, and it felt oddly like coming full circle.
That dramatic monologue is so effective as an audiobook. The listener is called upon in a very different way than with other novels. We feel like we’re being addressed. That’s good to hear. It is a very direct form of address. It has to be. And in that book in particular, voice is so important because Changez, we learn, is ostensibly Muslim. But he doesn’t pray, he drinks, he has sex, he doesn’t quote the Quran or think about the doings of the Prophet. . . . His Islam appears to be a sort of tribal [affiliation]. It’s sort of “these are my people, I belong to something,” much more than it is an operating system, you know, like MacOS.
Some people might imagine that Islam has a kind of . . . rigidity or formality, that it has a kind of, you know, menace. I think these sorts of perceptions that many people do have about Islam—who are not Muslims or don’t know very many Muslims, particularly in that post-9/11 environment—the novel doesn’t give those attributes to Changez, but it does use a voice that can invoke those attributes. So you can end up believing things about this guy, not because he thinks in a certain way or even does anything, but just because it sounds like he might.
And so the reading of that book was very interesting and actually fun because Changez speaks in this very formal, kind of anachronistic way, and that formality is also a distancing, and it builds to what feels like a kind of menace because, you know, so often we assume that a more colloquial, friendly form of address is not threatening, but Changez’s quite formal address [makes us wonder,] “Why is he keeping me at a distance? What does he intend to do to me? What kind of person speaks in this way? Why does he think like this?”
I used to talk about The Reluctant Fundamentalist as a thriller in which nothing really happens. And I think that sense of thrill comes from the fact that we are already frightened of each other. There’s a preexisting thrill in the reader—whether it’s a reader who sympathizes with Changez and is frightened of the American, or sympathizes with the American and is frightened of Changez—and the novel tries to invoke within the reader a feeling of that discomfort that we were all encouraged to have in those years, that we belonged to these different groups and that we had to be in conflict.
And as audiobook listeners, we’re even more vulnerable to what the story wants to invoke in us. We’re passive receivers; we’re not even moving our eyes across the page. Weirdly enough, it’s closer to the experience of Changez’s interlocutor in the book itself. The confined space of this conversation, where somebody is forced to listen to somebody else for hours, is more akin to an audiobook experience, where you’re sort of sitting there and this person is coming at you with their voice.
“I used to talk about The Reluctant Fundamentalist as a thriller in which nothing really happens. And I think that sense of thrill comes from the fact that we are already frightened of each other.”
Are you a frequent audiobook listener? I tend to feel that the inbound-information-to-my-eyes thing is a little bit overloaded. Either I’m reading stuff online or I’m actually reading a book or I’m writing something, and then when I’m not, there’s a complex series of advertisements directed at me and my kids’ devices, and I think that I long to just have my eyes be free. And that’s when the idea of just listening to something becomes so attractive. My daughter does the exact same thing, but she listens to music for hours every day, and she’s dancing in her room by herself, and she has that relationship with music that teens and preteens sort of have had from time immemorial. It’s just ears. It’s ears and your body in space.
You know, I’m now reminded of this thing that Philip Gourevitch once said to me when he was editor of TheParis Review. He said, “It’s strange, but we get more short story submissions than we have subscribers.” . . . I feel a little bit like that, where I’ve recorded this handful of audiobooks these last few years, but how many have I listened to? I think I’m like the Paris Review submitter of audiobooks. I talk a good game, but I don’t really walk the walk as far as listening is concerned. So it’s a bit shameful, but anyway, I’m a writer, so I make the things. I don’t listen that much.
Photo of Mohsin Hamid by Jillian Edelstein
Fifteen years after its initial publication, The Reluctant Fundamentalist gets a haunting new audiobook recorded by its author.
Kaye Gibbons weaves marvelous prose from the emotional havoc hateful fathers stir in their daughters. But as in Ellen Foster a tour de force told from the perspective of a young girl bounced from one unfit home to the next, who possesses remarkable candor, even humor the daughters in Gibbons’s stories are survivors. On the Occasion of My Last Afternoon is the story of Emma Garnet Tate, the daughter of Southern plantation owner Samuel P. Tate, “man of means, by God,” who is fighting an eternal battle to overcome his lowly beginnings. A self-made man, he is fiercely jealous of his eldest son’s opportunities. Whately confounds his father by rejecting his future inheritance: “I do not think I will ever live here,” Whately demurs. “If I take up your living, I will take up your Negroes. Thank you though.” Instead, Whately loves literature, a passion he instills also in Emma Garnet, further infuriating their father he craves a daughter with great feminine charms, not the bright and competent young woman Emma Garnet is becoming.
To Tate’s mortification, Emma Garnet marries a young doctor, Quincy Lowell, of a prominent “Yankee” family from Boston. The couple moves to Raleigh, North Carolina, where Emma Garnet lives with the greatest peace and joy she has ever known for a time.
The Civil War is on the horizon, and the Lowells are in the thick of it. As the bloodshed mounts Emma Garnet joins her husband in the hospital tending to the soldiers and later moves into their home (the piano is Quincy’s impromptu operating table). The Lowell home becomes a tight operation, run by Emma Garnet and Clarice a cherished slave from Emma Garnet’s childhood whom she and Lowell freed and hired for wages. Though common throughout the war, there’s a subtle irony in Clarice’s care of the soldiers who would die for the South’s right to own slaves.
Never melodramatic, the story captures the lie of the war that there’s honor in joining what Emma Garnet sarcastically terms “the chivalric dead.” To a newspaper’s account of a soldier shot by sniper who “no doubt died in regard of his Cause,” Emma Garnet responds, “No doubt he died wishing he was home, thinking Yankees and Negroes might not be worth the exquisite pain in his side . . .” The author of five novels including A Virtuous Woman and A Cure for Dreams, Kay Gibbons has considerable critical acclaim to live up to. In On the Occasion of My Last Afternoon, she has exceeded it.
Reviewed by Rosalind S. Fournier.
Kaye Gibbons weaves marvelous prose from the emotional havoc hateful fathers stir in their daughters. But as in Ellen Foster a tour de force told from the perspective of a young girl bounced from one unfit home to the next, who possesses remarkable candor, even…
In the early 1970s, super secret agent Evan Tanner disappeared, not an uncommon fate of international spies in the waning days of the Cold War. Captured by a Swedish militant group (now there’s an oxymoron), Tanner was put in ice; that is to say, cryogenically frozen and buried under a suburban New Jersey house. Tanner’s creator, Lawrence Block, left him there for a quarter of a century, give or take, and in the interim found fame and fortune chronicling the exploits of hard-boiled detective Matthew Scudder and bon vivant burglar Bernie Rhodenbarr.
Now it is 1998, the Cold War is but a distant memory, and by a happy accident Evan Tanner is resurrected. Chronological age: early sixties; apparent age: thirty-something. A lot has changed since the seventies: the advent of the computer age, AIDS, designer drugs, the partitioning of the former Soviet Union. Tanner goes by his old apartment and finds, to his astonishment, that his key still fits. More amazing, all his old furniture is present and intact, a living museum to the “late” Evan Tanner. The biggest surprise still awaits him, however, as the little refugee girl he had adopted some 25 years ago still lives in the apartment . . . only she ain’t so little anymore.
It takes Tanner several months to catch up, to figure out how the events of the recent past have come together to shape the present. Voraciously reading back-issue newspapers and weekly news magazines, he draws upon his photographic memory to sort myriad random facts into some cohesive whole.
Though the strife has ended between the Soviet Union and America, there are still trouble spots left in the world where an intelligence man may ply his trade, and soon the reconstituted Tanner finds himself in Burma, on a mission to kill real-life Burmese freedom fighter Aung San Suu Kyi. It seems Tanner’s employer feels that the murder of Burma’s most famous daughter will foment insurrection in the Southeast Asian country, thereby creating any number of money-making opportunities for the adventurers savvy enough to capitalize on it.
Tanner quickly finds himself wrapped up in the proverbial web of intrigue, framed by the Burmese secret police, escaping to the frontier disguised as a Buddhist monk. (In the company of a beautiful bald woman who may be the heir to the Romanoff throne of Russia, yet.) More lighthearted than the Matt Scudder series, yet more topical and political than the Bernie Rhodenbarr books, Tanner on Ice is reminiscent of the tongue-in-cheek novels of Donald Hamilton (the Matt Helm series) or even Ian Fleming’s classic James Bond stories. Anyone who enjoyed those will have a difficult time putting this one down.
Reviewed by Bruce Tierney.
In the early 1970s, super secret agent Evan Tanner disappeared, not an uncommon fate of international spies in the waning days of the Cold War. Captured by a Swedish militant group (now there's an oxymoron), Tanner was put in ice; that is to say, cryogenically…
Bestselling author Rebecca Serle’s stirring novel One Italian Summer (6.5 hours) follows a young woman’s journey of discovery, acceptance and forgiveness. The audiobook is read by “Gilmore Girls” actor Lauren Graham, who brings sincere tenderness to the heartwarming tale.
Katy is shattered after the death of her mother and best friend, Carol, and Graham captures Katy’s numbness and grief through deliberate pacing and a voice that often breaks with emotion. Feeling lost in life and in her marriage, Katy decides to take a pilgrimage of sorts, traveling to Italy’s Amalfi Coast on the trip that her mother had planned to take for years. Katy is shocked when, upon arriving in beautiful Positano, she meets a vibrant woman who seems to be a younger version of Carol. In her moving performance, Graham evokes Katy’s conflicted emotions surrounding her mother and her marriage, drawing readers into the process of rediscovering her most important relationships.
Bestselling author John Darnielle’s most bizarre novel to date, Devil House (11.5 hours), is an odd amalgam of crime fiction, buried memories and investigative journalism. As the audiobook’s narrator, Darnielle performs the story in a steady voice, combining the otherwise disjointed series of events into a cohesive, fascinating whole.
Assuming the voice of true crime writer Gage Chandler, Darnielle describes a 1980s cold case involving a pair of satanic murders that occurred at a decrepit house in Milpitas, California. While researching the crime for his next book, Gage has moved into the house as part of a thinly disguised publicity stunt to bolster sales. But the deeper he delves into the house’s illustrious and mysterious history, the more its story takes on a life of its own, affecting Gage, and by turns the listener, in unique ways.
Shirking a linear structure, the novel slowly weaves from past to present and from character to character before coming together at the end. A singer-songwriter for the Mountain Goats, Darnielle brings a lyrical, literary tone to a novel that’s part true crime, part horror and wholly original.
John Darnielle reads the audiobook for his most bizarre novel to date, combining a seemingly disjointed series of events into a cohesive, fascinating whole.
Like a game of hide-and-seek, Kathryn Schulz’s memoir is both whimsical and a little terrifying. In three seemingly innocuous sections, titled “Lose,” “Find” and “And,” the Pulitzer Prize-winning author develops a fugue, incorporating etymology, personal narrative, philosophy and even a meteorite. But the heart of Lost & Found (7.5 hours) is Schulz’s focus on herself, the father she loses and the partner she finds.
With the same exquisite precision as her New Yorker articles about the Pacific Northwest and other topics, Schulz explores settings ranging from Cleveland hospital rooms to Maryland’s Eastern Shore, but her heart and mind are the real landscapes to discover, and she does so with tenderness, humor and aplomb. She reads her own audiobook, delivered with a slight lisp and certain breathlessness, and nearly every sentence comes through in a meditative, soothing cadence.
Schulz invites listeners into a bittersweetness that’s as mundane as it is cosmic. Like a childhood game, no one will want it to end.
In bestselling author Sarah Jio’s novel With Love From London (11.5 hours), a recently divorced Seattle librarian named Valentina heads to London to settle the estate of her late, estranged mother, Eloise. Valentina is unsure about both the inheritance and her feelings toward Eloise, but she gets drawn in by the quaint bookstore her mother owned in Primrose Hill, her mother’s friends and neighbors, and a scavenger hunt arranged by Eloise that references both points around London and literary works beloved by Valentina and her mother.
In chapters that alternate between Valentina’s experiences in 2013 and Eloise’s life from the 1960s to the ’90s, voice actors Brittany Pressley (Valentina) and Gabrielle Glaister (Eloise) animate daughter and mother with equal warmth and exuberance. Their American and British accents lead listeners into a cozy world that’s alive with intrigue, female camaraderie and the fellowship of book lovers. Eloise’s scavenger hunt not only directs the suspenseful plot but also points to the message at the heart of With Love From London: Books can act as portals to the human soul.
As Valentina finds a fulfilled life in Primrose Hill, readers find a retreat from a harried world.
In the audiobook With Love From London, voice actors Brittany Pressley and Gabrielle Glaister animate daughter and mother with equal warmth and exuberance.
Silvia Vasquez-Lavado is a truly impressive individual: She’s a philanthropist who’s worked in Silicon Valley’s tech industry, and she’s one of the few women to have climbed all Seven Summits, the Earth’s highest mountain peaks. But as her immersive, inspiring memoir, In the Shadow of the Mountain: A Memoir of Courage (15.5 hours), makes clear, her accomplished resume only hints at her remarkable story. Scenes from her life—including her childhood in Peru, her sexual abuse by a trusted adult and her later estrangement from her mother following her coming out as a lesbian—are interspersed with scenes from a climb on Mount Everest, where she’s accompanied by fellow sexual violence survivors who, like the author, have found healing and empowerment through physical challenges.
Through her narration, Vasquez-Lavado, whose first language is Spanish, conveys a lifetime of warmth, humor and steely determination.
Maria Ressa’s book is a political history of the Philippines and an intimate memoir, but it’s also a warning to democracies everywhere: Authoritarianism is a threat to us all.
Sean Adams has dialed down the dystopian quotient from his first satirical novel, The Heap, but that element is still very much present in The Thing in the Snow.
A decade and a half in the making, The Antidote brings together undertold history of 1930s America and the fantastical vision that made Swamplandia! so remarkable.
Award-winning poet and essayist Tiana Clark lets us peer into the process behind her second collection, Scorched Earth—an exquisite book that reckons with history and rings with joy.