News and Events

See all News and Events

A Reading by Noy Holland
Monday, February 29, 2016
2:30 pm – 3:45 pm EST/GMT-5
Campus Center, Weis Cinema
 [A Reading by Noy Holland] The National Book Award nominee and author of BirdSpectacle of the BodyWhat Begins with Bird, and Swim for the Little One First reads from her work at 2:30 p.m. in Weis Cinema, Bertelsmann Campus Center. Introduced by Bradford Morrow and followed by a Q&A, the reading is free and open to the public; no tickets or reservations required.

"Ms. Holland habitually challenges the usual limits of language, but the effects of her exuberance are never precious, and often turn suddenly into beauty; her characters portray themselves in a discourse that is startling but genuine, the secret syntax of real lives." —New York Times Book Review

"Noy Holland animates what we struggle to keep unknown, the suppressed, the barely to be borne, in a prismatic, restless language that illuminates a heaven and hell of visions and want." —Joy Williams

"Strange, glittering, incantatory language marks Holland's provocative, nearly hypnotic stories." —Publishers Weekly

"The syncopated rhythms of Noy Holland’s rapturous prose jolt the heart and spark the senses." —Melanie Rae Thon

 

Contact: Micaela Morrissette, [email protected], 845-758-7054

Connect

e-mail
Submissions

In Print

Vol. 82
Works & Days
Spring 2024
Bradford Morrow

Online

July 24, 2024
On Valentine’s Day, Milo strings a horse-shaped piñata from the ceiling light in our living room, and I walk by twice before noticing it swaying there. The light is off and the horse is dark, but I am not unobservant. Part of me accepts a horse swinging in my periphery. Milo makes up a real reason for me to go back down the hall and, when I look for the space heater, I find the horse hanging. He dangles from a yellow jump rope, and I am so happy to see him in my house. Milo hands me the stick. “You need,” he says, “to kill a horse.”
 
July 17, 2024
There is the man on the moon. Go to him. Get bread from him, drink his water. Take your dog, Blue to him. Take your mother. She is skiing outside around the house. Stop her, tell her that Blue is going also. Take the gander, Henry. He is short in the legs. Leave me Iris. I have seen her eat feed in a pattern.
 
July 10, 2024
Marcie decided on Vertigo because she’d recently encountered several texts in quick succession that made extensive reference to it: Chris Marker’s time travel film told in still images, La Jetée, Terry Gilliam’s unlikely Hollywood adaptation, 12 Monkeys, and a story by Bennett Sims called “White Dialogues” about an embittered academic seething in an auditorium during a lecture being given by the hot new thing in Hitchcock studies. The coincidence made her feel involved with the film, and vice versa, in a way that evades more specific description.