Admin_99 Posted May 18, 2021 Share Posted May 18, 2021 Every week, the editors of The Paris Review lift the paywall on a selection of interviews, stories, poems, and more from the magazine’s archive. You can have these unlocked pieces delivered straight to your inbox every Sunday by signing up for the Redux newsletter. Ishamel Reed. This week at The Paris Review, we’re in the library stacks. Read on for Ishmael Reed’s Art of Poetry interview, Ludmilla Petrushevskaya’s short story “Two Sisters,” and Tom Disch’s poem “The Library of America.” If you enjoy these free interviews, stories, and poems, why not subscribe to The Paris Review? You’ll also get four new issues of the quarterly delivered straight to your door. Or, subscribe to our new bundle and receive Poets at Work for 25% off. Ishmael Reed, The Art of Poetry No. 100 Issue no. 218 (Fall 2016) When I came back to Buffalo, I dropped out of school. I was seventeen. My plan was to stay home and read plays but my mother said, You’ve got to get a job, so I worked at a library and that’s where I first read James Baldwin. I think it was Notes of a Native Son. It stopped me cold. I had never seen a black guy that could do this. When I was a child, I thought literature was written by lords and knights and stuff. You know, these people living in these great estates wearing beautiful clothes. Baldwin showed me something different. Then I discovered Dante, man. That really turned me on. My parents thought I had lost my mind. Furniture for libraries from the Cornell University Library, via Wikimedia Commons. Two Sisters By Ludmilla Petrushevskaya, translated by Anna Friedrich Issue no. 227 (Winter 2018) The girls could barely wait to go outside. They had a slice of bread, drank a cup of hot water with last year’s mint, and quickly left the building, missing the teenagers. Now there was the problem of transportation. In their previous life, bus drivers didn’t ask the old biddies for tickets, and the ticket collectors avoided them like radiation. The sisters decided to walk to the library, to exchange books. It was still very early and they sat in the park among pigeons and park workers, waiting for the library to open. Then it occurred to Rita that they were supposed to be in school! The librarian would probably wonder why the girls were roaming the streets instead of being in a classroom. Furniture for libraries from the Cornell University Library, via Wikimedia Commons. The Library of America By Tom Disch Issue no. 158 (Spring-Summer 2001) It’s like heaven: you’ve got to die To get there. And you can’t be sure. The publisher might go out of business. Or you yourself might not be good enough. The vagaries of taste might swerve. Suddenly, leaving you disaudienced. Marquand. Aiken. cummings. Mailer. What are their chances now, which once Loomed so large? Ubi sunt, as they say In France, while their language Expires. It’s sad, this transience We share, but look on the bright side … If you enjoyed the above, don’t forget to subscribe! In addition to four print issues per year, you’ll also receive complete digital access to our sixty-eight years’ worth of archives. Or, subscribe to our new bundle and receive Poets at Work for 25% off. View the full article Quote Michael Neff Algonkian Producer New York Pitch Director Author, Development Exec, Editor We are the makers of novels, and we are the dreamers of dreams. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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