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Nicola Mason: An obvious blog post presented itself to me this week, courtesy of two lovely Facebook friends. Friend One reported with delight that he had finally used the word “Cthulhu” in a poem. Friend Two linked to Grammarly’s “Tips for Writing Better.” Friend One’s status I immediately liked. (I mean, how cool is “Cthulhu”?) …

We’ve got a date and a place for our third “Greetings from The Cincinnati Review” cross-country, multi-author, über-tastic reading series. First we took San Francisco. Next we owned Seattle—well, for a couple of hours, anyway, before the mayor demanded his key back (though even then, poetry editor Don Bogen made him arm-wrestle for it). Our …

Devoted blog readers: We’re experiencing a minor glitch with our online ordering system, so if you receive an error message while trying to buy a subscription or single issue through our website, send in the mail-in order form (to Subscriptions, The Cincinnati Review, P. O. Box 210069, Cincinnati, OH 45221-0069) or give our office a …

Associate Editor Becky Adnot-Haynes: When I was a kid I used to do this weird thing where I folded over the top of my sock because the seam bothered my toes. Apparently, my uncle used to do the same, and he turned out to be a doctor—so my parents used to joke that maybe I …

Writers are often afraid of science. Perhaps their minds are not capable of complex math. Maybe they’re too sensitive to ideas like black holes, instant cell death, and robot children, which keep them up at night. Perhaps they’ve had bad experiences of scientific humiliation and disappointment. Associate Editor Lisa Ampleman was kicked out of 9th-grade …

As we mentioned Wednesday, we’ve sent off Issue 9.2 to subscribers, no matter the spilled Laffy Taffy, tangled tape, or papercuts necessary to complete the shipping project. Keep an eye on the mailbox for your issue (or order it here if you forgot to renew your subscription!), and when it arrives and you open it …

Yeah, we still do it the old-fashioned way. Boxes arrive, we crack them open with a sense of both trepidation and excitement, and if the pages are not upside-down or smeared with ink blobs or otherwise wonkified, we woot and do head butts, then make an offer of Laffy Taffy to our office Lit Gods …

We just heard from a freight company that has custody of a pallet containing Cincinnati Review Issue 9.2—they’ll be releasing this bookish bounty to us tomorrow! And then, after carefully stuffing each little volume into a labeled envelope, we’ll send our freshly printed literary offering into the world, wishing it well, singing “So long, farewell…” …

Sure, everybody loves turkey. Actually I (Nicola) don’t. And my vegetarian family members don’t. And my Asian and Hispanic friends are less than keen. And my small child, who keeps bringing home colorful pictures of turkeys in top hats and spats—or of papa, mama, and baby turkey cavorting about the forest—is horrified by the idea …