An installment in Chris Offutt’s Omnivore column, Cooking with Chris.  Magic and cooking are based on the same principles of transformation, cutting and restoring, vanishing and reappearing. A blue handkerchief suddenly becomes red! A woman sawn in half returns intact! A… by Chris Offutt | Jun, 2017

A story from our 2001 Southern Music issue. I first heard Charley Patton thirty years ago, on a two-LP compilation called The Story of the Blues, which I won in a contest. My adolescent ear was immediately sucked in by… by Tom Piazza | Jul, 2001

 A Letter from the Editor, Summer 2017. For the second year in a row, our summer issue contains a special section of Southern Journeys. In typical Oxford American fashion, these five journeys aren’t your average trip itineraries or travel guides, though we… by Eliza Borné | Jun, 2017

We wore cowboy boots and Wrangler jeans hitched around our skinny waists with braided belts and rodeo belt buckles and fought with other aspiring tough boys who called themselves cholos. No doubt I was getting a reputation around town as… by Roger D. Hodge | Jun, 2017

A short story from our Summer 2017 issue.  I opened my eyes and looked at the patient. Her eyes were open, too, wide and lively against the tautness of her face. They were the same eyes of my aunt Lydia… by Gothataone Moeng | Jun, 2017

An installment in our weekly story series, The By and By.  As soon as we entered the town, a warren of stone houses perched on a ridge, maybe home to five hundred, I got the feeling of something vaguely sinister… by Matthew Neill Null | Jul, 2017

A Southern Journey from the Summer 2017 issue.  Well, then, this is what I am: adopted Southerner; no longer a part of the church in which I was raised, but still Protestant, albeit an increasingly reluctant one; saddened by what… by Jamie Quatro | Jun, 2017

Photographs from the Summer 2017 issue by Johanne Rahaman with an introduction by Sarah Stacke. Built in the early 1940s, Blodgett Homes is a 654-unit public housing complex. According to Cherlise, who was born in 1982, the community there used… by Sarah Stacke and Johanne Rahaman | Jun, 2017

A classic John T. Edge column from the OA archive.  One of the only places the Allman Brothers really felt at home was at Mama Louise Hudson’s soul food restaurant in Macon, Georgia. by John T. Edge | Jun, 2017

June 28, 2017

Announcing the Oxford American’s 19th Music Issue.

In 2017, we are returning to the state series. And we are thrilled to announce that it’s your turn, Kentucky.

June 13, 2017

The films and young filmmakers of the Summer Documentary Institute at Appalshop’s Appalachian Media Institute.

Introducing the film “Justice for All” and its creators, Oliver Baker and Aaron Combs.

June 05, 2017

The films and young filmmakers of the Summer Documentary Institute at Appalshop’s Appalachian Media Institute.

Introducing the film “Go Your Own Way” and its creators, Jaydon Tolliver, Elyssia Lowe, and Joshua Collier.

May 26, 2017

The films and young filmmakers of the Summer Documentary Institute at Appalshop’s Appalachian Media Institute.

Generations of eastern Kentucky youth have had to contend with the question of whether to leave, alongside the demeaning narrative of the rural “brain drain.” This reductive theory posits that the best and brightest minds leave rural communities for urban communities. This simplification of data ignores the stories of those who choose to stay or are not able to leave. For many young people here, it is an act of resistance to stay in the community they love.

May 25, 2017

An installment in our weekly series, The By and By. 

The Kentucky I knew looked verdant and sun-dappled as my family drove through the palisades and then the gentle bluegrass on our way to the mountains from the city of Louisville. And even when we reached the mountains themselves, which so physically display the significance of shadow and mystery, I was still in a place that all the grownups around me treasured for its nurturing, its sustenance, its mothering. Even those who’d lived away for decades, in other states, in other countries, still called the mountains “home” because that was what they believed.
April 18, 2017

But those are facts, and “facts” are exactly what I don’t want to know, inasmuch as they will inevitably get in the way of the little fictions I’ve enjoyed telling myself during my walks for most of the last twenty-five years. 

April 17, 2017

Novelist Patrick Wensink believes the home’s backside is where the true self is best seena haunting, colorful, and often humorous world that goes unnoticed, ignored.

April 11, 2017

Here are the facts: In the first Kentucky Derby run in 1875, thirteen of the fifteen jockeys were black, including the winner, Oliver Lewis on Aristides. Black jockeys won fifteen of the first twenty-eight derbies. Isaac Murphy, whose winnings built a mansion in Lexington near the old Kentucky Association racetrack, won the derby three times and had an overall win record of 34.5 percent. Jimmy Winkfield, who was born in 1882, won the derby twice. He went to Russia to race and then fled the Bolshevik Revolution, leading a band of Thoroughbreds to Poland. Winkfield lived the high life as a trainer on the tracks outside Paris, France, but when he returned to Kentucky in 1961 at the invitation of racing journalists, he was turned away at the door of the Brown Hotel because he was black.

March 31, 2017

He was a modernist scholar, one of the earliest, and for decades a leading translator of ancient Greek poetry; but he also wrote with authority on the social history of the pear, Mother Ann Lee and Shaker aesthetics, Dogon cosmogony, the anthropology of table manners, 2 Timothy and the Pauline doctrine, Louis Agassiz, Eudora Welty, geodesic domes, the paintings of Balthus, and the behavior of wasps—which he fed in his home from a saucer of sugar water. He himself subsisted on fried bologna sandwiches and Marlboros.

December 06, 2016

A feature from our 18th Southern Music Issue: Visions of the Blues.

The place I was raised in and where occurred the events that most shaped and damaged me as a human being was called Silver Hills. It’s a “knob,” as they deem the low hills in that part of the country. This one had used to be Cane or Caney Knob, so named because when the whites arrived it was covered in tall river cane. The cane is gone but the knob remains, and the people rechristened it Silver Hills, claiming as always that this had been the Indian name. 

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