Monday, October 2nd, at 4:45 p.m. in Weis Cinema, Bertelsmann Campus Center, Bradford Morrow presents a reading from his brand-new novel, The Prague Sonata. Hailed as "an elegant foray into music and memory" (Kirkus Reviews), the novel revolves around an unsolved eighteenth-century musical mystery that transports readers between Nazi-occupied Prague and turn-of-the-millennium New York. This event also features Morrow in conversation with Richard B. Fisher Family Professor in Literature and Writing at Bard, Mary Caponegro.
Bard Center Fellow, Conjunctions editor, novelist, and Bard literature professor, Morrow is the author of novels including Trinity Fields, The Forgers, and The Almanac Branch. His many awards and honors include a Guggenheim Fellowship in fiction, O. Henry and Pushcart prizes for his short stories, an Academy Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and the PEN/Nora Magid Award for excellence in editing a literary journal.
Mary Caponegro has authored numerous short story collections including All Fall Down, The Complexities of Intimacy, The Star Café, and Five Doubts. Among her accolades are the General Electric Foundation Award for Younger Writers, the Rome Prize Fellowship in Literature from American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters, and the Bruno Arcudi Award.
Refreshments will be served. Oblong Books will offer copies of The Prague Sonata for sale.
A Cabinet of Curiosity
Edited by Bradford Morrow
Edited by Bradford Morrow
January 15, 2019
Outside the stars were fading and the sky was slowly rosying at the edges when we found the skeleton. At first it was visible only as a clutch of white daggers, thickly clotted with spiderwebs, compressed between the plaster wall and the heavy wooden timbers. I don’t know what I expected it to be.
January 8, 2019
On the bus, we were told to remember everything, to testify, testify, testify. We’d heard this many times before. Remember and testify, they would say, in order that this or that bad thing does not happen again. I harbored no such faith in remembering. Nor in testimony. I fail to believe in them still.
January 1, 2019
Someone shouted at me to grab a blanket or a coat or something for crissakes, the narrator of The Bystander says, and wrap your old man up, because after assaulting the woman the narrator’s father liked best, and after running out with nothing on but the soap from the bath he’d been taking with her, the narrator’s father is standing on the street, shouting imprecations at her,