Literature

I first encountered Emma Copley Eisenberg’s work through this wonderful essay from EL contributor Elizabeth Endicott. In it, Endicott chronicles her experience delving into Eisenberg’s Housemates as a plus-size reader; she moves from apprehension to relief to recognition, highlighting Eisenberg’s ability to render fatness without the shadow of authorial judgment. Deeply imagined and embodied, Eisenberg’s
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Patrick Cottrell’s second novel Afternoon Hours of a Hermit begins with a mysterious envelope delivered in the mail; inside is a childhood photograph of the narrator’s deceased brother, sent just as the fifth anniversary of his suicide approaches. It is the kind of inciting incident that carries all the scaffolding of a detective story—a mystery
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A Mother and Daughter Are An Edge by Sarah Giragosian “A mother and daughter are an edge. Edges are ecotones, transitional zones, places of danger or opportunity.”– Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds When my mother died, I was handed some pamphlets about grief, its permutations and stages. What to expect. What falls within
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Small towns and cities mean different things to different people. To a big-city dweller visiting for the weekend, it can be a place to lose—or find—oneself; a place to rejuvenate and invigorate. For someone who hails from a small town, it can mean getting in touch with one’s roots. To those who inhabit these spaces
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The Fragile Pride of the Displaced New Englander Away in Tampa I was there in the cheap seats when the man with Boston on his back tackled the giant bug. A shaded skyline that enfolded his shoulders, revealed when he frenzied his shirt over his head after Nathan Horton scored in the second—the Ontarian dispatching
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In December 2024 (adjusted for the present rate of dystopic acceleration, several eons ago), T. M. Brown published an essay in The Atlantic whose title “You Might Be Worried About the Wrong Algorithms,” could double as a subtitle for William Lessard’s /face. Therein, Brown argues that our tendency to depersonalize the algorithms feeding us recommendations—that
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The phrase “teenage girl” tends to conjure up images of hormonal bodies and see-sawing emotions—not focused and powerful brains. And yet, some of the most famous girls in literature gain exceptional mental gifts when they hit adolescence. Carrie White, for example, Stephen King’s telekinetic teenager, develops her cognitive power when she gets her period and
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Both Mahreen Sohail and Dur e Aziz Amna’s work reflects a turning point in Pakistani literature: a move toward portraying lives as they are, unburdened by Pakistan as an ontological subject. Together, they represent a new guard of writers probing ambition, morality, and selfhood with nuance and precision. Sohail’s debut novel, Small Scale Sinners, is
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I met Nora Lange in the dream space of the Brown Creative Writing MFA Program where I was teaching and she was a graduate student. As a student, she seemed all possibility, all wonder, and I, the witness to that nascent, vulnerable state of becoming. There was an openness, a tenderness and hope, an optimism, an irreverence,
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Two years ago, I decided to end my career as a teacher to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing full-time. I was suddenly thirty-five in a kindergartner’s shoes again, fearful in anticipation of the first day of school. I sharpened my pencils, prepped my new notebook, and nervously registered for classes. Then, just before the
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We all have that person in our life, the one who combines ambitious intentions with crippling self-sabotage. Often, they are unaware of this and perceive themselves as perfect, if only external circumstances didn’t prevent them from reaching their potential. A bad boss takes credit for their work; a realtor costs them a deal that would’ve
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Hairballs Are My Love Language This article is free to read. So is every article Electric Literature publishes. No limits, no paywalls—now or ever. But we rely on your support to keep it that way. We need to raise $35,000 by April 15 to keep the lights on, and time is running out. Donate today. —————
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