Fusing pornography and postfeminist theory, transcript and tell-all, these playful, penetrating poems and stories reach off the page in search of what it is to be known, both to the masses and to the "Other." Gertrude Stein's work is co-opted and re-seen in an attempt to unpack the relationship between love and war; Walt Whitman makes a command performance in dismembered bits of forced formal verse; and The Exorcist and The Devil in Miss Jones are sutured together in an attempt to locate the horror of desire.
Fusing pornography and postfeminist theory, transcript and tell-all, these playful, penetrating poems and stories reach off the page in search of what it is to be known, both to the masses and to the "Other." Gertrude Stein's work is co-opted and re-seen in an attempt to unpack the relationship between love and war; Walt Whitman makes a command performance in dismembered bits of forced formal verse; and The Exorcist and The Devil in Miss Jones are sutured together in an attempt to locate the horror of desire.
Jaycee and Rachel were best friends. But that was before. Before that terrible night at the old house. Before Rachel shut Jaycee out. Before Jaycee chose Skyler over Rachel. Then Rachel is found dead. The police blame a growing gang problem in their small town, but Jaycee is sure it has to do with that night at the old house. Rachel's text is the first clue--starting Jaycee on a search that leads to a shocking secret. Rachel's death was no random crime, and Jaycee must figure out who to trust before she can expose the truth. Jennifer Shaw Wolf keeps readers on their toes in another dark, romantic story of murder and secrets.
“A suspenseful, thrilling read that will keep you on pins and needles until the last page.” —Liezel and Angie's Book Blog Beautiful. Perfect. Dead. In the peaceful seaside town of Cape Bonita, wicked secrets and lies are hidden just beneath the surface. But all it takes is one tragedy for them to be exposed. The most popular girls in school are turning up dead, and Penelope Malone is terrified she's next. All the victims so far have been linked to Penelope—and to a boy from her physics class. The one she's never really noticed before, with the rumored dark past and a brooding stare that cuts right through her. There's something he isn't telling her. But there's something she's not telling him, either. Everyone has secrets, and theirs might get them killed.
"Abigail Tarttelin is a fearless writer." --Emily St. John Mandel From the award-winning author of Golden Boy, a riveting novel that traces one girl's journey to understand what happened to her best friend, and what it might mean to be a girl. Eastcastle, England in the late 1990s is a peaceful, rural community where children disappear into wheat fields to play until nightfall. There are no mobile phones and no cause to worry. For families, it's a place that allows the ultimate freedom, and this is the way eleven-year-old Thera Wilde and her friends are brought up: free. So when Thera's best friend goes missing, Thera assumes Billie is off on another adventure. Then detectives come to question Thera at school, and she realises the worst has happened. Thera starts to ask, what is a pervert? Why are girls particularly at risk? And why do the men around her think she's theirs to touch? Questions the adults around her don't want to answer. Meanwhile, Billie has entered the realm of the dead girls; the girls that go missing and who no one finds. Does Thera really see her ghost, or is she hallucinating, mentally marked by the horror of losing her friend? The investigation continues. The rural police are slow, and overwhelmed by the unexpected nature of the case. Urged on by what she believes to be Billie's ghost, Thera decides to find out what happened to her friend. It's the 90s. Girls can do anything. Thera will hunt down the killer herself. An authentic, tender portrayal of a young girl's grief and determination in the face of unbearable loss, as well as a smart, suspenseful exploration of how we talk to young girls about the men who would hurt them. Dead Girls is Tarttelin's riveting, fiercely feminist follow up to critically-acclaimed LAMBDA Finalist and ALEX Award winner, Golden Boy.
An Anthology of Recent Queer Science Fiction and Fantasy from Award-Winning Editor Paula Guran Speculative fiction imagines drastically diverse ways of being and worlds that are other than the one with which we are familiar. Queerness is a natural fit for such fiction, so one would expect it to be customarily included. That has not always been the case, but LGBTQ+ representation in science fiction and fantasy—in both short and long form—is now relatively common. Even so, most of the queer science fiction and fantasy anthologies published in the last thirty-five years have been narrowly focused: specifically gay male or lesbian (or, more recently, transgender) themes, or all science fiction or all fantasy, or adhering to a specific theme or subgenre. Far Out: Recent Queer Science Fiction and Fantasy, on the other hand, features both science fiction and fantasy short fiction from the last decade and includes characters, perspectives, and stories that span the rainbow. With stories from incredible authors ranging from Seanan McGuire to Charlie Jane Anders to Sam J. Miller, it’s an essential read for anyone interested in queer science fiction and fantasy. Contents Introduction: Over the Rainbow and into the Far Out by Paula Guran Destroyed by the Waters by Rachel Swirsky The Sea Troll’s Daughter by Caitlín R. Kiernan And If the Body Were Not the Soul by A. C. Wise Imago by Tristan Alice Nieto Paranormal Romance by Christopher Barzak Three Points Masculine by An Owomoyela Das Steingeschöpf by G. V. Anderson The Deepwater Bride by Tamsyn Muir The Shape of My Name by Nino Cipri Otherwise by Nisi Shawl The Night Train by Lavie Tidhar Ours Is the Prettiest by Nalo Hopkinson Don’t Press Charges and I Won’t Sue by Charlie Jane Anders Driving Jenny Home by Seanan McGuire I’m Alive, I Love You, I’ll See You in Reno by Vylar Kaftan In the Eyes of Jack Saul by Richard Bowes Secondhand Bodies by Neon Yang Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar Né łe! by Darcie Little Badger The Duke of Riverside by Ellen Kushner Cat Pictures Please by Naomi Kritzer The Lily and the Horn by Catherynne M. Valente Calved by Sam J. Miller The River’s Children by Shweta Narayan
“The 21 artists, who share their stories of madness, trauma, addiction, abuse and self-destruction, and their relationship to art, leave no vulnerable detail unwritten.”—Shameless A visceral look at the bizarre entanglement of destructive and creative forces, Live Through This is a collection of original stories, essays, artwork, and photography. It explores the use of art to survive abuse, incest, madness and depression, and the often deep-seated impulse toward self-destruction including cutting, eating disorders, and addiction. Here, some of our most compelling cartoonists, novelists, poets, dancers, playwrights, and burlesque performers traverse the pains and passions that can both motivate and destroy women artists, and mark a path for survival. Taken together, these artful reflections offer an honest and hopeful journey through a woman's silent rage, through the power inherent in struggles with destruction, and the ensuing possibilities of transforming that burning force into the external release of art. With contributions by Nan Goldin, bell hooks, Patricia Smith, Cristy C. Road, Carol Queen, Annie Sprinkle, Elizabeth Stephens, Carolyn Gage, Eileen Myles, Fly, Diane DiMassa, Bonfire Madigan Shive, Inga Muscio, Kate Bornstein, Toni Blackman, Nicole Blackman, Silas Howard, Daphne Gottleib, and Stephanie Howell.
Gertrude Stein's work is co-opted and re-seen in an attempt to unpack the relationship between love and war; Walt Whitman makes a command performance in dismembered bits of forced formal verse; and "The Exorcist" and "The Devil in Miss Jones" are sutured together in an attempt to locate the horror of desire. Fusing pornography and postfeminist theory, transcript and tell-all, these playful, penetrating poems and stories reach off the page in search of what it is to be known, both to the masses and to the "Other."
At age 39, Ariel Gore has everything she’s always wanted: a successful writing career, a long-term partnership, a beautiful if tiny home, a daughter in college and a son in preschool. But life’s happy endings don’t always last. If it’s not one thing, after all, it’s your mother. Her name is Eve. Her epic temper tantrums have already gotten her banned from three cab companies in Portland. And she’s here to announce that she’s dying. “Pitifully, Ariel,” she sighs. “You’re all I have.” Ariel doesn’t want to take care of her crazy dying mother, but she knows she will. It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? And, anyway, how long could it go on? “Don’t worry,” Eve says. “If I’m ever a burden, I’ll just blow my brains out.” Amidst the chaos of clowns and hospice workers, pie and too much whiskey, Ariel’s own ten-year relationship begins to unravel. Darkly humorous and intimately human, The End of Eve redefines the meaning of family and everything we’ve ever been taught to call “love.”
A rebuttal to Aeschylus’s Oresteia, Every Form of Ruin posits the Erinyes’ fury as righteous, understanding Clytemnestra’s rageful response to loss, and refusing Iphigenia’s relegation to a footnoted sacrifice. A fierce and darkly funny examination of anger, these lyrical poems push back against silencing by playing witness to a world where the experiences of women, nonbinary, and femme-identifying people are too often ignored, their responses dismissed as hysterical. These poems are also investigations into the loneliness of midlife; the search for one’s own self when that self has given its life to service. Every Form of Ruin counters our culture’s erasure of women and resists the categorizations of maiden, mother, crone by blurring those distinctions through the creation of voices that are moved by rage and resistance. BLACK THUMB The dogwood was threatening to swallow the back garden’s light, so I borrowed a chainsaw and gas. Its last berries a memory of red, the fruit bitter, tiny angry mangos in the mouth of its killer. Nights my son chooses his father to read him into silence, I practice not loving anything. Less like learning than remembering. As a child, I studied how to be a child. I was given a doll to care for but could never remember its name. I left her face down everywhere.
