N. Scott Momaday on the Art of Poetry: “There are all kinds of things that I remember. I wish I could live them again.”
Colm Tóibín on the Art of Fiction: “The thing about writing novels is that it must be a form of self-suppression. You don’t matter. The page is not a mirror.”
Prose by Avigayl Sharp, Addie E. Citchens, Lucas Hnath, Mieko Kanai, Sophie Madeline Dess, Kate Riley, Tom Drury and Isabella Hammad.
Poetry by Cynthia Cruz, William IX of Aquitaine, Luis Alberto de Cuenca, Peter Mishler, Hannah Emerson, Eliot Weinberger, Timmy Straw, Oksana Maksymchuk, Victoria Chang and C.S. Giscombe.
Colby bought me a subscription to The Paris Review for Christmas and I finished the first issue a few weeks ago. I've just been waiting for it to get on Goodreads! I really enjoyed the blend of short stories, art, and poetry. But the highlight was the interview with Colm Tobin. Also, the cover of this is gorgeous and I have a print hanging in my reading nook 🤩
My first paris review so I’m not sure if this is the editor’s general preference or specific to this issue but winter 2022 was a little too narrative and disconnected for my taste. Give me feeling or give me nothing!!
“I've thought of myself as the reincarnation of the boy who turned into a bear and chased his sisters... I was having trouble with the bear in me.”
“From mortal arts and joy's source I flee I leave them both to go to thee whom sinners trouble I who've loved so grandly in great feminine rhymes now my master calls me so close I am to dying I'll leave all love all glorious riding to please my master if he'll have me.”
“There's a lot to see on a dead-end road, but not much kindness.”
“Today I am not happy. The heart is not a stone that can be rolled.”
“No one understood when I wrote "The sun rises from its bath like a duckweed."”
“The sea accepts the water from all the streams. * The war goes on: I live among deer. I sit out in the moonlight and moonlight shines on my knees. I sit out even when it rains.”
“"Yeah, he was great, but I heard the singer— I didn't hear the song." That s considered a withering critique. If you're the singer, you have to bury yourself in the song.” (The Art of Fiction No 256)
Over the years I've gone from starting with the prose, to starting with the interviews. The interview with Colm Tóibín was the absolute highlight of this TPR. Since the new Editor, I feel the prose is a bit hit and miss for me, although I like to think this is because it's definitely less US centered, and therefore, surely, after learning to appreciate USA-lensed literature I am now stretching my tastebuds once more. The interviews are steady good always.
The poetry and cover art is better and the short stories are worse. The plays don't belong. I fail to discern a difference between them and other acted, visual art forms, to include TV or movie scripts.
A bit over long with this one. The interview with N Scott Momaday was the highlight for me here but the interview with Tóibín was underwhelming. Most of the prose I skimmed through.
It's been a long time since I read this because I got behind on writing reviews... So, it makes sense that I just don't remember much of what I read from this edition. The art stuck with me, though. I love the low-brow materials and concepts. Overall, this collection just didn't strike a chord with me as much as other editions of the Paris Review have. Until next time...