Novelist Jesmyn Ward is known for historical grandiosity, but her long-overlooked book “Sing, Unburied, Sing” turns away from realism into the realm of generic strangeness.
B-Sides celebrates great books that time forgot.
Editor: John Plotz
“Few libraries list it among their holdings, and sometimes I have wondered if the book in my possession actually exists.”
Very much against the grain of most standard leftist work, “Daughter of Earth” remains unsettled and unsettling throughout.
Few novels are so crammed with invention. Yet the interlocking richness of her ideas does not derail your reading.
Annotations isn’t a book you read for the plot. It’s more of a “Notes toward...” that remains just that: always towards, never quite arriving.
South African literature has long struggled to become drought-resistant: its plotlines, and even its paper production, presuppose abundant water.
Caesuras do things to stories—and to readers, even readers too young to know the term.
Impossible to summarize, The Last Samurai is deeply political—anti-capitalist and thoroughly feminist—without ever becoming preachy or moralizing.
For Indiana, disaster is both imminent and ambient, both apocalyptic and manifested in everyday ordinariness.
Environmental wisdom can arise from being a better reader.
Woolf’s spin on the genre of children’s fiction about animals is valuable because of its comedy, not despite it.
A 1980 novel brilliantly anatomizes the Australian settler-colonial roots of the late 20th century’s crass materialist complacency.
As in mythology, the characters in a 1984 Turkish novel are acted upon by forces distant and uncaring.
A child’s novel can be funny by revealing how much a child does know, after all.
When freedom will not arrive to us, can we get nearer to it?
The author’s pagan obsessions, like her chatty metacritiques of other modernist writers, set her apart from her contemporaries.
How could any Belgian graphic novel escape Tintin’s shadow? Enter Brecht Evens’s The Making Of.
“What I wanted was a piece of land which I could love passionately, which I could spend the rest of my life in cultivating.”
Strangers share a 1932 train ride from Belgium to Istanbul, a journey that reveals the dark changes already sweeping the continent.
Denis Williams was a painter in London, a novelist in the Sudan, an art historian in Nigeria, and an archeologist in his native Guyana: the polymath’s polymath ...