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A Conjunctions Launch Reading with Joyce Carol Oates, Quincy Troupe, Rob Nixon, and Hilary Leichter
Housing Works Bookstore Cafe & Bar Celebrates the New Earth Elegies Issue
Thursday, January 30, 2020
7:00 pm – 8:00 pm EST/GMT-5
Housing Works Bookstore Cafe & Bar, 126 Crosby St., New York, NY 10012
Conjunctions celebrates its current issue, Conjunctions:73, Earth Elegies, with readings by contributors Joyce Carol Oates, Quincy TroupeRob Nixon, and Hilary Leichterintroduced by Conjunctions editor and novelist Bradford Morrow, at Housing Works Bookstore Cafe & Bar (126 Crosby St., New York, N.Y.). Refreshments will be available for purchase courtesy of Housing Works, and copies of the issue will be available for sale and signing.

Longtime contributor Joyce Carol Oates will read from her story “A Theory Pre-Post-Mortem.” Miles Davis biographer and award-winning writer Quincy Troupe will read from his poem “Think of It.” Newcomers to Conjunctions include Rob Nixon, who will read from his essay on the epidemic of environmental martyrdom, “Fallen Martyrs, Felled Trees,” and Hilary Leichter, who will read from her story “In the Mist of Everything.”

The literary journal Conjunctions, published by Bard College, has been a living notebook for provocative, risk-taking, rigorously composed fiction, poetry, and narrative nonfiction since 1981. As PEN America has it: “Conjunctions is one of our most distinctive and valuable literary magazines: innovative, daring, indispensable, and beautiful.”

In addition to work by the readers, the Earth Elegies issue includes contributions by Arthur Sze, Robert Macfarlane, Diane Ackerman, Francine Prose, Brian Evenson, Rae Armantrout, Nathaniel Mackey, Lance Olsen, Eliot Weinberger, Rachel Blau DuPlessis, James Morrow, Sofia Samatar, Karla Kelsey, Troy Jollimore, Jessica Reed, Heather Altfeld, Andrew Mossin, Sandra Meek, Krista Eastman, Yxta Maya Murray, Kate Monaghan, Matthew Gavin Frank, Matthew Cheney, Jessica Campbell, Thomas Dai, Toby Olson, Debbie Urbanski, Donald Revell, Sabine Schiffner, Wil Weitzel, Jonathan Thirkield, Rebecca Lilly, and Kristine Ong Muslim.
 
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
 
National Book Award winner and Pulitzer Prize finalist Joyce Carol Oates is the author, most recently, of My Life as a Rat (Ecco) and Pursuit (Mysterious Press). Her story “Undocumented Alien” in Conjunctions:67, Other Aliens received a Pushcart Prize. She is the 2019 recipient of the Jerusalem Prize and is currently Distinguished Writer in the Graduate Writing Program at New York University. Her novel Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. is forthcoming from Ecco in June.

Quincy Troupe is the author of 20 books, including 10 volumes of poetry. He is coauthor, with Miles Davis, of Miles: The Autobiography, which won the American Book Award, and author of the memoir Miles and Me (Seven Stories), which is scheduled for release as a major motion picture for which Mr. Troupe wrote the screenplay. Also forthcoming from Seven Stories are Duende: Poems from 1966 Until Now and a memoir, The Accordion Years.

Rob Nixon is the Currie C. and Thomas A. Barron Family Professor in Humanities and the Environment at Princeton University. His books include London Calling: V. S. Naipaul, Postcolonial Mandarin (Oxford); Dreambirds: The Natural History of a Fantasy (Picador); and, most recently, Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor (Harvard), which won an American Book Award.

Hilary Leichter’s debut novel, Temporary, is forthcoming from Coffee House/Emily Books in March. Her writing has appeared in n+1The New YorkerAmerican Short Fiction, and elsewhere. She has been awarded fellowships from the Folger Shakespeare Library and the New York Foundation for the Arts.

Contact: Nicole Nyhan, conjunctions@bard.edu, 845-758-7054
http://www.conjunctions.com

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Vol. 77
States of Play: The Games Issue
Fall 2021
Bradford Morrow

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November 17, 2021
I fell asleep with my girlfriend’s head on my shoulder, but woke to a too-familiar absence—one that had somehow followed us down all those highway miles—her body a shadow on the other bed that could have belonged to anyone, could have been an axe murderer for all I knew, but I just closed my eyes and willed whatever future was coming to hurry, I was tired of waiting for it. On my second waking the sun was shouldering its way into the room through the crack in the curtains, my girlfriend now missing from both beds, and the room was made strange by her disappearance so that I flung myself out from under the covers. I found her in the bathroom with her hands on either side of the sink, the water running and There’s something wrong with it Liv she said.
November 10, 2021
        The fathers drowned and scientists were baffled.
          All over the world fathers met their end in water. Fishing fathers drowned in rivers, swimming fathers drowned in lakes, tanning fathers drowned in backyard pools. Bathing fathers drowned in tubs and surfing fathers were sucked in the sea’s undertow. Fathers panning for gold drowned in creeks. A father was found dead with his head in an overflowing sink near dishes slick with syrup from breakfast. A father in a bathrobe was discovered face down in a puddle in the parking lot of a department store. Deep within a national forest, a father was found upended with both black rubber boots stuck up high from a primitive outhouse’s chamber hole. He would have looked funny if he weren’t dead.
          Fathers in other countries, fathers of celebrities, rich fathers, poor fathers, fathers only known in passing, cherished fathers, stepfathers, fathers of strangers and fathers of friends. They drowned and drowned.
November 3, 2021
   The day you told me the world was ending, you had inquired about a particular scent for treating your mother’s lapses in memory (further complicating the matter by saying that your father, the primary witness to her memory loss, was also deteriorating himself). I assured you there was no such perfume.

            As a joke or token of consolation, I showed you a favorite scent of my mother’s, which had played no small part in enchanting my father. It was a perfume heavy with middle notes, or heart-notes, as we call it, which take longer to dissipate. It had no medical basis for treating pre-existing memory loss, but the scent alone was potent enough to provide an olfactory anchor at the moment of inhalation—a perfumed time-stamp. 

            Of course the world was ending, I said. Everything was always ending. 
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