Posts Categorized: Nonfiction

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Interview with 2016 Blue Light Reader Matthew Gavin Frank

We’re honored to have Matthew Gavin Frank read at our 2016 Blue LightAuthor Pic Food 1 Reading here in Bloomington, IN in just one week. To celebrate, we asked Matt a few questions about how he started writing (it’s a great story), his experience designing menus for Julia Roberts’s private parties (no kidding), his research process (some of which was even unintentional!), and if he believes in sea monsters. We hope you enjoy his responses as much as we do, and that you’ll come on out to hear him read from his work at our annual Blue Light Reading at The Bishop March 5 at 7 PM. Read more…

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Online Feature: “Matzevah” by Judith Hertog

 

I laughed a lot at my father’s funeral. The evening before the ceremony, I stayed up late with my mother and our friends Bart and Ruth, trying to compose an appropriate eulogy. My little sisters, who had just turned eleven, had fallen asleep on the couch. When we tried out the speeches we came up with, they sounded so pathetically silly – “Thank you all for coming, Mike regrets not being able to be here himself…” “Mike has led a full and satisfying life…” “Every life must end, and so did Mike’s…” – that we couldn’t recite them without being overcome by giggles. The funeral itself felt like an absurdist play. The procession from the funeral hall to the grave took so long and was so abruptly twisty that I thought the master of ceremonies had lost his way. As we slowly proceeded along the winding gravel paths between the neat rows of graves, passing through somber islands of conifer trees and along stone walls that sheltered the dead from the hustle of Amsterdam, I imagined the master of ceremonies’ rising panic at the realization that he didn’t remember the location of the grave and was leading the dead man and the solemn line of mourners in a haphazard walk through forgotten corners of the cemetery. Read more…

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Online Feature: “One More Artificial Organ” by Kate Birch

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On a bookshelf next to my mother’s bed there was a prototype of the Jarvik 7 artificial heart. Sometimes when she was downstairs fixing dinner or folding laundry I would sit on her carpeted floor and tear that heart apart with a defiant rip of Velcro, balancing the meshy chambers in my upturned palms before I pieced them back together. Afterwards, I’d place the heart back inside its dusty outline and move on, shuffling through her dresser drawers, hungry for secrets.

In the bedside table there was a pack of Trojan condoms covered by a drawing that my father sketched of my mother’s “lovely foot” and under that was the perpetual calendar whose thin metal wheel I could spin like a fortune teller, predicting the future.

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Black Friday Indiana Review/Black Warrior Review/Hayden’s Ferry Review Submission Period!

 

 

The editors of Indiana Review, Black Warrior Review, and Hayden’s Ferry Review are excited to read submissions of short fiction, poetry, and nonfiction fee-free for one day only! We hope this period is a nod to that fact that though we must charge submission fees, we don’t like to. All submissions will be considered for publication by all three journals. Pieces may be accepted by only one of the three: BWR, HFR, or IR.

You send us your best work. We duke it out for a chance to publish our favorites.

Submissions for this joint period will be accepted through BWR’s online submission manager at bwr.submittable.com/submit. No mailed submissions will be considered. Be sure to select the “No-Fee Black Friday Submission!” category for proper consideration. No submission fees will be charged for this special one-day only Black Friday submission period. Read more…

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Online Feature: “An Open Letter to World War I Soldier Alexander Bradley Burns of Downers Grove, Illinois on the Occasion of My Father’s Retirement After Six Years in the United States Air Force Reserves, Plus Twenty More in the U.S. Army Reserves” by Kathleen Rooney

 

June 12, 2011

Dear Alexander Bradley Burns,
Dear Alexander,
Dear Alex,
Dear Bradley,
Dear Brad,
Hi, ABB,
Hey Al,
Dearest A,

From the second I saw your sepia photograph beneath convex glass above the door in the foyer of American Legion Post 80, I knew I’d have to write you.

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