I’m certain that morning I heard wasps droningbeneath each floating, sunlit surface.The billowing high-peaked tents staked virgin spaceas if they were the early outposts of an empireon the rise. Here was a scene nothing in Chauceror Blake or my continental tours had prepared me for.How unlike the bored bewitchment I’d glimpsed in that pigeon-eyedChancellor of …
Leah Osowski’s poem “Vs. Field” is forthcoming Issue 13.2. In today’s blog post, Associate Editor José Angel Araguz reviews Osowski’s collection, Hover Over Her. by José Angel Araguz While reading Leah Poole Osowski’s Hover Over Her, I found myself coming back to the phrase “the poetics of suddenness.” Throughout the collection, moments are built up into a spark …
Writers don’t just describe the settings they inhabit, they make them their own. Twain’s Mississippi River, the Brontës’ haunted moors, Langston Hughes’ Harlem—even as these places change, they are forever defined by the writers who loved them and preserved them in language. In Issue 13.2, our poets explore the emotional complexities of setting, drawing on …
In memory of our contributor Naira Kuzmich, and with the permission of her family, we’d like to make her full essay from Issue 13.2 available now. (Use the arrows at the bottom of the PDF embedder to scroll through.) See more essays from Issue 13.2 by purchasing a copy in our online store. Digital copies …
A video marking the changing of the CR guard. Becky Adnot-Haynes speaks about submissions, grip strength, and pizza. (Cameo by Nicola Mason’s boots.) https://youtu.be/tylarET0p78
One week ago today I began my new role as managing editor of The Cincinnati Review. In addition to wresting The Chicago Manual of Style from former managing editor Nicola Mason, who is small but mighty, I’ve learned that this gig requires wearing many hats (metaphorical hats, not actual ones. Hats look weird on me, …
Antonie van Leeuwenhoek first saw the microscopic monsters that the naked eye can’t see, describing the odd creatures as “cavorting, wee beasties.” A barrier had been crossed; the world of flesh and blood and dirt, so tangible around us and within us, was once again enveloped by mystery. The homunculi of our knowledge had come into …
Our train broke down in the frozen heart of the taiga. At first we were startled. We had grown accustomed to the relentless presence of the engine, the way that it throbbed beneath our toes and thrummed through our veins. When we tried to rise, we stumbled and then tried again. How strange it was …
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