Great new(ish) stories from around the Web. Forget work for a minute and read a story. It’s good for you.
A Super Hangover
You’re not really reading this, are you? You’re skimming these words with your eyes, aren’t you? Yes, you are. And it’s all because you’re paying attention to your… feelings? Admit it, today you’re either feeling sour over your team’s loss, jubilant over your team’s victory, or completely apathetic, because you could give a hoot about either team, the sport of football in general, and all the glitzy commercialism that goes along with last night’s prime time extravaganza. Any way you slice it, you’ve got football on the brain. Here to help, we present the Super Bowl of literature news. Bolaño’s mystery novel hits American shelves and has critics dancing in the end zone. We all know Chekhov is the Lombardi of literature. But why does his his legacy endure? Find out in the Guardian. There’s an instant replay of the tale of two Turkish writers who shared a jail cell for years, a flag thrown over the imprisonment of a Vietnamese dissident author, and an official inquiry into the generational merit of J.D. Salinger. Finally, Nick Flynn and Aleksandar Hemon head into the broadcast booth for a series of questions from The Millions and Guernica. Game on. — Kevin Murphy
Pig Skin!
Dear Sweet Baby Touchdown Jesus:
We are very ready for the Super Bowl. Please send it posthaste, and let there be massive murder-death hits, and bloody stumps, and atomic explosions. Let there be knives in the knee pads, and H-bombs in the helmets.
We’re not asking much. We want the bad team to get hit so hard their babies go Down Syndrome. We’re lighting a candle in the end zone of your altar. We’re crossing our fingers in the seats of your bleachers.
In anticipation of this weekend’s melee we’re reading our favorite football novel. End Zone by Don DeLillo. (Not that book by Rudy Ruetigger). — Brian Allen Carr
Curious
We’ll be featuring several works of flash fiction during the month of February.
We’ve asked writers Kathy Fish, Larry Fondation and Brandi Wells to riff on a variety of themes.
In this first installment all three writers contemplate curiosity.
Enjoy.
Sam and Lara Watch a Man Build a Leaf Pile at the Retreat Park, by Kathy Fish
The man was hoisting his toddlers out of the stroller, one in each arm. Their legs kicked at the air until he plunked them onto solid ground. They stood on wobbly legs for a moment then proceeded to gallop, in opposite directions and the man ran around like a border collie until he simply grabbed the younger one and ran over to the older one who wanted up on the smiling yellow duck. — Read the entire story here.
High Forehead, by Larry Fondation
Bartending is hard work. Intellectually, I mean. Jill does this thing. She’s so fast. She takes orders, and she pours, and she takes money, and she does it all at once. But she won’t date me. I mean I’ve never asked, but I just know. — Read the entire story here.
Treatment, by Brandi Wells
A decade has passed and I look out my bedroom window every night to see if he is asleep in our yard. I take a flashlight to be sure he isn’t in the ditch or underneath her car. While she’s at work I try to dig a trench around the house, but the grass is too well-rooted. I stab at it with a hoe, but I hack my foot and have to quit. She finds me sitting in the foyer, still wearing my sneakers, bleeding through them. I scream when she takes the shoe off. I scream at the way the shoe rips away more of my flesh. — Read the entire story here.
