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A Reading by Akil Kumarasamy
The Bard Fiction Prize Winner reads from her work
Monday, April 4, 2022
2:00 pm – 3:00 pm EDT/GMT-4
Olin, Room 101
 [A Reading by Akil Kumarasamy] On Monday, April 4 at 2:00 pm in Olin 101, Akil Kumarasamy will read from her work. Presented by the Innovative Contemporary Fiction Reading Series, and introduced by Bard literature professor and novelist Bradford Morrow, the reading is free and open to the student body. Seating is limited. 

Akil Kumarasamy is the author of the story collection, Half Gods. She is the 2021 recipient of the Bard Fiction Prize and her debut novel, Meet Us by the Roaring Sea, is forthcoming with FSG in August 2022.

Praise for Akil Kumarasamy

“Kumarasamy writes with heart, wit, and an unflinching eye about the complexities of family, war, and finding one’s home.” —Sara Novic, Girl at War

“Kumarasamy’s prose is gorgeous and assured, capable of rendering both major tragedy and minor tragedy with care and precision.”
Publishers Weekly

“These are wonderful stories, finely poised, beautifully written, and brimming with a rare wisdom.” —Kanish Tharoor, Swimmer Among the Stars

Contact: Melynda Fuller, [email protected]



In Print

Vol. 79
Fall 2022
Edited by Bradford Morrow


November 30, 2022
Alice was actually a labeler and not a pickler. Still, she knew what Mr. H’s picklers did was nothing like her grandmother’s pickling, sweaty and stained and clouded by hot vinegar steam, shoveling already rotting vegetables into their boiling bath like some kind of unbelieving prayer. Everyone winced when eating what came out of her grandmother’s pickle jars. Mr. H’s were made of faceted clear glass, and the bobbing pickles inside were a bright, inviting candy-green. To look at one was to feel it snip crisply between your teeth, to set your mouth watering. Alice was midwife to that salivary burst. That was what she dressed up for. Today it mattered even more than usual.
November 23, 2022

I saw it in this very particular slide of swell’s,
the sylphspun silk of the sylph, she sideways,
her garage is paradise in masque, her sweep
is saturn, szturn im sturm & string, install’d
in the area’s traverse. he follows that lucky
old sun, the gesture of her lining and loose
knot, and pulls herself through burns and a
dry wash and some soft lead. in discorporate
minerals, or in the sharing of the black sleek
sharing with the wild man in her soft shoes,
all over the panes of the various sworld and
out into the superhighway of bywater, hard
by marigny. to flow through one to another
indetermination, the posture of their brush
must be immaculate fray, all them, all they.
November 16, 2022
Day Book

One wants to grasp a latch.
The broken star, the cellophane.
One suffers if untethered from
the pain that brought a lock.
Across the way the husband tends his teeth.
The wife redresses, parted from her paper.
To emblemize, to separate the word
grief reaches. Grief reaches, unseduced.