One Sunday night a month, around 8:30 P.M., or whenever the long, narrow, art-bedecked space of Canvas Lounge finally fills with revelers, the strains of “Let There Be Praise,” sung by Sandi Patty, the ’80s- and early ’90s-ruling inspirational star… by Jewly Hight | Dec, 2013

When attacks on my beliefs and stances occur, they come from the right. Or from someone who has a score to settle. But here came Tunde, without personal malice, and with great charm, saying things that made me supremely uncomfortable,… by John T. Edge & Tunde Wey | Jun, 2016

From the Winter 2005 issue.  It’s been said that more has been written about Muhammad Ali than about Abraham Lincoln, Jesus Christ, and Napoleon, a claim that’s difficult to prove, but which suggests a truth: the media dedicated to Ali—books,… by Paul Reyes | Jun, 2016

This week, the editors are listening to Chris Maxwell and Brandy Clark; dreaming of Appalachian cuisine; and remembering The Greatest.  by Oxford American | Jun, 2016

In her ongoing project Backwater, Virginia Hanusik examines how coastal communities—specifically in Southeast Louisiana—respond and adapt to land loss on what the artist calls “the frontline of climate change.” by Virginia Hanusik | Jun, 2016

At seventeen, Joseph Wright left his working-class neighborhood of redbrick row homes and Italian restaurants in South Philly to spend a crisp spring and boiling summer in the woods of western Virginia. by Lavinia Jones Wright | Jun, 2016

When the Road Seeks documents the photographer’s search for herself in a seemingly ever-expansive United States.

Irrespective of the national debate over gun control, for many Americans, the heart and the soul is located near the trigger finger. Inevitably, firearms have figured into the Oxford American time and again.

A Conversation with Brian Blanchfield. 

“When I initially set myself the constraint you describe, to write analytically about a particular object or phenomenon or concept, one at a time, without access to outside authority, I didn’t have the sense this would be a book, much less a book that could be called a memoir.”

The distance between a man and the moon is a spider hiking the Oregon Trail. The distance from a spider to the end of her six-inch silk tether is a man drifting on a sixty-foot umbilical. A man tumbling from end to end of a space station is a spider free-falling down a four-foot web.

Short fiction by C. E. Morgan from our Spring 2014 issue.

I probably shouldn’t tell you this, because it’s not politically correct to say, but it takes courage to kill something—you risk remorse, and remorse sticks.

Once you could sit in a boat right over the spring source, hemisphere of sky above, hemisphere of water below, and it would be as if you hung suspended between the elements inside a perfect globe of morning-glory blue. Once, but not now, not anymore.

With Cracker Politics, The Limit of Colonial Knowledge, photographer Michael Adno rethinks Florida’s complex colonial eras alongside the state’s present-day idiosyncrasies.

This week the editors are looking ahead at the 50th anniversary of Charles Portis's first novel, Norwood.

An excerpt from a play by Charles Portis, with an introduction by Jay Jennings. 

MR. PALFREY: Oh, I know what I want. I just don’t see it here. What I want is a fat yearling coon roasted with some sweet potatoes. What I want, young lady, is some salt-cured ham that’s been hanging in the smokehouse for about two years, along with five or six big cathead biscuits, and some country butter and ribbon cane surrup. But I can’t get that, can I?

KATE: You can’t get it here.

I was twenty-two, queer, and coming of age in Florida.

At seventeen, Joseph Wright left his working-class neighborhood of redbrick row homes and Italian restaurants in South Philly to spend a crisp spring and boiling summer in the woods of western Virginia.

SOUTHERN JOURNEYS: A special section from our Summer 2016 issue.

The journey in all its forms—going to, running from, wandering about, flying over, migrating, dispersing, coming back, moving on—is an ideal climate for narrative.