Suppose we surprised him coming off the path into the patch of pines and saw palmettos, two girls with our child-sized bikes. Suppose he had a reason to chase us back to the path, his pale face flushed with—what? Desire? Wrath?
Claudia Emerson, who died in December 2014, had come to be known as a poet capable of revealing startling discoveries inside quiet, quotidian circumstances. Her poems are set mostly in Southern rural and small-town scenes, moments in...
Water, I learned, was the most abundant element in nature whose only value came from controlled and measured distribution. Our lives invariably revolved around its input and output, and the same rules which governed the natural world were...
Turner, a celebrity chef, wrote Brian Turner’s Favourite British Recipes: Classic Dishes from Yorkshire Pudding to Spotted Dick. He played drums for the horror-punk band Schoolyard Heroes, played hockey for New Zealand in the sixties, lifted th...
I had driven to Nashua to look for farmhouses. I was researching abandoned farmhouses and wanted to find a part of New Hampshire with both rural and urban poverty.
For our Spring 1947 issue, VQR Editor Charlotte Kohler acquired an essay on Jean-Paul Sartre by Yale University French professor Kenneth N. Douglas as well as a translation of Sartre’s 1946 essay “Ecrire pour son époque,” which was...
When his beloved Sophie died, Novalis Lay by her grave and wept himself to sleep. On the third night she met him in a dream. He woke transformed, longing for the last trance, “When sleep shall be without waking.”
