Contributors

Can Xue

Contributor History

Two Stories, Conjunctions:18
Two Unidentifiable Persons, Conjunctions:21
Two Stories, Conjunctions:23
Homecoming, Conjunctions:28
Mosquitos and Folk Songs, Conjunctions:36
Helin, Conjunctions:40
Scenes Inside the Ruined Walls , Conjunctions:43
The Castle’s Origin, Online 07-03-2005
Two Stories , Conjunctions:45
An Affectionate Companion's Jottings, Conjunctions:47
Moonlight Dance, Conjunctions:50
Rainscape, Conjunctions:53
Sin, Conjunctions:57
Venus, Conjunctions:60
Coal, Conjunctions:62
Story of the Slums, Conjunctions:65
Euphoria, Conjunctions:68
Our Human Neighbors, Online 08-22-2017
Her Old Home, Conjunctions:71
The Inside Story, Online 04-02-2019
The Neighborhood, Conjunctions:76

Biography

Now living in Xishuangbanna in Yunnan Province, Can Xue has been at the forefront of experimental writing in China since 1983. Can Xue was short-listed for the prestigious Neustadt International Prize for Literature for 2016 and received the 2015 Best Translated Book Award for The Last Lover (Yale University Press); her Love in the New Millennium (Yale University Press, 2018) was longlisted for the 2019 Man Booker International Prize. Her most recent two books to appear in English translation are I Live in the Slums (Yale UP) and Purple Perilla (Common Era Books). Yale will publish her novel The Barefoot Doctor in 2022.

Connect

In Print

Conjunctions:76

Fortieth Anniversary Issue

Spring 2021
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

Six Poems

by Jed Munson

October 20, 2021

Launch

codes, we stripped species,
            our insecure
hands of gloves
to crack the test           to our capitalizable
future. Pray
            for the multiverse I’m working on
at midnight.

Five Poems

by Emma De Lisle

October 13, 2021

Forgive us. We were waiting
here, in the thickening ice. We worked a long time. Now
we try to give what we found, a little basket
hiding behind each back, full of the young shoots.
They are so green. Mercifully green. We say so. Yes,
they are alive, we say. We, too. We are still sick.

The Jackal

by Joy Baglio

October 6, 2021

Friday night, and you have done the unthinkable. You’ve taken your father’s Jackal Ghost bowling ball from its locked hard-shell case under your mother’s bed—the ball that looks like a purple and black version of the earth, a jackal’s head rising from the swirls—and gone to meet Teddy and Zeke and Evan and Marya, most importantly Marya, for a night of bowling, the game your dead father was obsessed with: the game that, according to your mother, ruins people.