Why are Anglophone novels more worthy of attention than Ottoman shadow puppetry or the art of knot-tying? Just what are the humanities for?
“One way to think about the act of annotating is that you are that meddlesome party gossip, telling the reader how to draw connections between the different parts of the text.”
Within western poetry, women writers of color—and their lived experiences—are not nearly as recognized nor represented as their white peers.
“This is not lowered expectations. It’s a wish for a mass normalization of resistance to deadly ways of looking at the world.”
In May 1381, rebels burned documents at Cambridge, then scattered the ashes to the wind. But why were universities targeted by the rebels?
The humanities have a replication crisis of monumental proportions: so many theories have never been adequately tested or validated.
The revelrous, rebellious writing of Hejinian—arguably our foremost poet-critic—works against our sense of psychological and political isolation.
Despite using a pseudonym, Ferrante has made clear how readers should understand her work. Should critics listen?
To work as a translator is to encounter a text with an active desire in mind, a desire that both constitutes and modifies the way that text is experienced.
Benzion Netanyahu—father of the former prime minister—is not the protagonist; rather, it is his scholarship and the practice of history itself.
In both World Wars, France used West African “colonial conscripts.” Deployed on the front lines, they were often the first to be killed.
The pandemic took the health inequalities generated by US imperialism, and made them worse.
These poems undo the cultural invisibility of America’s Native Nations. They also, with unique abundance, secure the value of poetry itself.
Nobody knows what will be useful in the future. And this is why we so often find humanistic activities in the seeds and roots of STEM.
Each May we send our readers into summer with a curated list of the titles that dazzled, challenged, and inspired us most over the past year (or so).
Jenny Erpenbeck’s fiction is an attempt to grasp the underlying precariousness of our sense of identity and belonging.
What does it mean to write—and read—an American novel in the wake of anti-Asian racism and hate crimes, events connected to a history of Asian exclusion?
Anthropology’s attention to the granular texture of someone’s life is a beautiful training for being a fiction writer.
What happens when a regime founded upon exclusion, racism, nationalism, and an authoritarian leader ends? In Spain, such a regime never really ended.
For Indiana, disaster is both imminent and ambient, both apocalyptic and manifested in everyday ordinariness.