Seth Lerer

“I wouldn’t want to get those shoes wet.”

            The aquarium assistant, a girl of maybe twenty-five with red hair, crooked the hose under her arm, stopping the water with a bend.

            “Those are such nice shoes. Tell your dad,”

Giulio J. Pertile

It might seem counterintuitive to speak of John Ashbery, the principal figure in the New York School of poets, as a pastoral poet. Ashbery’s verse has always dwelt on the heady distraction of metropolitan living, its haphazard and abstract qualities tuned most closely to the …

Rachel Kushner

When I heard that the HMS Bounty had sunk, I thought my favorite lounge and restaurant was underwater. No, someone said, the HMS Bounty  sank–the actual ship. But wasn’t it burned by the mutineers?