In Australia, some 30,000 people live in a state of legal uncertainty crafted by politicians.
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Posted inEditor's Pick
My Appetites
“On eating and coping mechanisms, childhood and self-control, criticism, love, cancer, and pandemics.”
Posted inCuration, Essays & Criticism, Nonfiction, Quotes
A Beloved Art Critic Sings His Swan Song
“Drink was destroying my life. Tobacco only shortens it, with the best parts over anyway.”
Posted inEssays & Criticism, Feature, Nonfiction, Quotes, Story
Thumbing a Ride: What I Learned from Siskel and Ebert
Dipti S. Barot pays homage to the two irreplaceable voices who informed her love of good movies.
Posted inNonfiction
Communiqué from an Exurban Satellite Clinic of a Cancer Pavilion Named after a Financier
Anne Boyer encounters a familiar system — that grand and easy-to-mistake-for-everything system — at the cancer pavilion.
Posted inEditor's Pick
‘I Believe in Love’: Elizabeth Wurtzel’s Final Year, In Her Own Words
Memoirist Elizabeth Wurtzel was working on this, her final personal essay, when she passed away on January 7th, 2020 from metastatic breast cancer. In the piece she reveals that as her health was declining, her marriage was unraveling, and that she was still wrestling with new information her mother finally revealed a couple of years […]
Posted inStory
The Emptying
“I’m amazed at our human capacity to adapt to the unbearable. Almost anything can seem normal if it’s inflicted on us long enough.”
Posted inHighlight, Nonfiction, Quote Posts, Quotes, Unapologetic Women, Writing
The Reality of Being Sick and Alone
Diagnosed with breast cancer, Anne Boyer discusses the treatment that is poisoning her body.
Posted inEditor's Pick
‘My body feels like it is dying from the drugs that are meant to save me’: life as a cancer patient
When Anne Boyer was diagnosed with highly aggressive breast cancer, she was confronted with a cure so poisonous that her body’s fluids became toxic to other people and corrosive to her body’s own tissues.
Posted inStory
Our Braided Bread
In my native New York, I don’t feel the need to perfume the air around me with the sweet scent of challah. But here in Iowa, there is a void I need to fill.
