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Conjunctions at the Brooklyn Book Festival

For free goodies & a smorgasbord of rare and new issues, see booth 228

Sunday, September 17, 2017

10:00 am – 6:00 pm EDT/GMT-4

Columbus Park, Brooklyn NY

[Conjunctions at the Brooklyn Book Festival]

Dangerous readers of NYC, Conjunctions can't wait to see you Sunday, September 17th, for the Brooklyn Book Festival!

Conjunctions will be at booth 228 in Columbus Park, outside Brooklyn Borough Hall, from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., tempting you with an array of free bookmarks, stickers, and magnets, not to mention a jaw-dropping selection of issues marked down to $5: collections of artist-writer collaborations, of Caribbean authors, of new-wave fabulism, of remade fairy tales, of dark comedy, of verbal architectures, and more.

Please come say hello, then pillage and plunder! We love to meet our authors' fans, and we'll be out rain or shine (but probably shine, we hear!). You can get there on the wings of literature, aka the A, C, F, R, 2, 3, 4, and 5 trains (track work allowing).

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

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In Print

Conjunctions:82

Works & Days

Spring 2024
Bradford Morrow

Online

Gentleness

by JoAnna Novak

May 1, 2024

“You have fifteen minutes,” the cashier says. Repeats it, runs your card, matter-of-factly smiling like Iowa girls do. Brenda smiled that smile too—pleasant, courteous. No faking, no strain.
“Any questions?” she asks.
You poke a carousel rack of baseball caps in front of her register. It creaks a clockwise inch. Stiff-billed, nylon, mesh. Lots of American flags. This one with the cabin patch, stitched with “Home Sweet Home.” It’s a deep bluish plum, a color Brenda likes.

Confessions of a Thief

by Jeffery Renard Allen

April 24, 2024

The July morning was alive with a sound in the air, strange communications, the acoustics of the big yard amplifying each rustle, each wave. Odd creatures glittering on the ground. Herds spread lavishly, a wilderness of transparent wings, bug eyes, a mosaic of glassy fragments. Glinting. They covered the grass, the sidewalk, covered the branches of the trees.

One-Eyed Jack

by Rick Moody

April 17, 2024

The sound reverberated in my sense of what was right and reliable in the world like drone weaponry, and what I wanted to ask was: what business have you left undone, and did you do a thing you so regretted that you can’t let go of it, was there a person you cut off, when sympathy would have been the better gesture, was there a person you trod on to get ahead in your sales job, speaking ill of them, so that they were forever harmed, did you say something awful about a friend in school, did you call a friend the worst of names in middle school, because it was a thing they said then, the boys did that, only to find, later on, that you loved that boy in a way . . . .