A Writing on Writing essay from the 100th issue. Pearl taught me to be a loving teller of the truth. This is the basis for my work as a writer and as a human being. If you are a person… by Tayari Jones | Mar, 2018

A Writing on Writing essay from the 100th issue. I found myself in Jones’s writing. Kentucky. Black. Rural. Woman. I was especially taken with how she drew characters from the oral storytelling tradition and then broadened that form into her… by Crystal Wilkinson | Mar, 2018

A Points South essay from the 100th issue. In chronicling the civil rights movement, one inevitably develops an interest in how racial crimes are remembered in the community where they happened—in the way they gradually turn into folklore—and in Memphis,… by Benjamin Hedin | Mar, 2018

A feature short story from the 100th issue. When the real estate agent first drove us up the gravel driveway, I felt I’d been to this place before. I wasn’t sure at first, for I’d first been there at night.… by Randall Kenan | Mar, 2018

A Points South story from the 100th issue. In public, she wore head wraps so tight they gave her headaches. Nevertheless, at some point, the hissing caused people to stop what they were doing and squint all around, in search… by Tania James | Mar, 2018

A Points South essay from the 100th issue.  “For more than three decades this maddening story of Evers’s murder and the question of Beckwith’s guilt or innocence has been told again and again, in conflicting voices and varying contexts, with… by Alan Huffman | Mar, 2018

A Points South essay from the 100th issue. If the earth is wet enough and acidic enough, the first thing you’ll find when you start digging up a grave is a coffin-shaped halo in the ground. That’s the mark left… by Christopher Cox | Mar, 2018

A Points South story from the 100th issue. First off, let me tell you that if you hold a rat snake in your lap and cup your hand around him and let him move along through your cupped hand you… by Clyde Edgerton | Mar, 2018

A feature essay from the 100th issue. From across the broad and whitecapped Indian River, the Kennedy Space Center looks like two tiny Lego sets in the distant vegetation. The palms here are windswept, the oaks are scrubby. Pelicans bob… by Lauren Groff | Mar, 2018

 A Letter from the Editor, Spring 2018. This issue is packed with other luminaries: Nikki Giovanni, Lolis Eric Elie, and Wendell Berry express the tenderness of our closest relationships. Randall Kenan and Thomas Pierce, contemporary masters of Southern fiction, offer… by Eliza Borné | Mar, 2018

Poems from the Spring 2018 issue. One white anemone,the year’s first flower,saves the world. by Wendell Berry | Mar, 2018

May 24, 2016

Because there wasn’t enough income to pay a full-time hand, all animals requiring daily care had to go. Mountain lions would eat the Boer goats if they went unsold. An emu, whom the old foreman Cruz had jailed in a derelict tennis court, I freed to earn a living in pasture. So long as they had water and grass, the cattle more or less took care of themselves until roundup.

That left the llama.

September 02, 2015

Claudia Delfin has spent her life shuttling between El Paso and Juárez—for a time, under the thick fog of drugs and addiction, as a sex worker and minor gangster. She’s been clean for eight years and now works as a drug counselor for a local nonprofit, hauling addicts out of the same slums where she used to score and delivering them back to life, if they’ll let her.

February 19, 2015

An interview with Amanda Shires.

I was trying to be on my own in Lubbock, playing my own songs, but I guess people didn’t see me like that. It was my fault, because I had to pay my rent, so I was still taking sideperson work, which kept me from being known as just that. I had written some songs with Thrift Store, but it was never an idea that I could do it on my own, solo, until Billy Joe told me to. He even said, “There’s no loyalty in side work. This week, fiddle is cool, but next week, it might be a dobro, and then where will you be?”

February 04, 2015

A conversation with Forrest Gander.

Love is sacred to Gander, as is longing. Vulnerability, landscape, poetry, pain—these draw his characters, and readers, to the edge of the void. His genre-bending books are driven by a powerful curiosity and hum with rich, associative thinking. At once granular and expansive, Gander writes after what he calls “our inner selves, that holy knot that gives us a hold on what we actually feel,” with the conviction that nothing less than life is at stake.

January 21, 2015

A conversation with the poet Christian Wiman, whose latest collection, Once in the West—his first since leaving Poetry magazine, where he was editor for ten years—is a finalist for the 2014 National Book Critics Circle Award in Poetry.