Lucy Ives crée de la poésie et de la prose courte qui plongent dans la nature du texte et ses limites. Son écriture explore souvent des formes non conventionnelles, examinant les thèmes de l'identité et de la création artistique. Ives emploie un style minimaliste et une approche analytique, disséquant les concepts littéraires et artistiques d'une voix distinctive. Son œuvre offre aux lecteurs des aperçus stimulants et inattendus sur la culture contemporaine.
Exploring the concept of anamnesis, this poetry collection delves into how individuals derive knowledge and meaning from their experiences. It intertwines philosophical, clinical, and spiritual interpretations, reflecting on the transient nature of storytelling and the inevitability of erasure in the creative process. The poems invite readers to consider the histories and invisible prayers that shape their narratives, ultimately questioning the essence of memory and identity in the act of writing.
An energetic, witty collection of stories where the supernatural meets the anomalies of everyday life--deception, infidelity, lost cats, cute memes, amateur pornography, and more. There are analogies between being female and being left-handed, I think, or being an animal. A woman answers a Craigslist ad (to write erotic diaries for money). A woman walks onto a tennis court (from her home at the bottom of the ocean). A woman goes to the supermarket and meets a friend's husband (who happens to be an immortal demon). A woman goes for a run (and accidentally time travels). Cosmogony takes accounts of so-called normal life and mines them for inconsistencies, deceptions, and delights. Incorporating a virtuosic range of styles and genres (Wikipedia entry, phone call, physics equation, encounters with the supernatural), these stories reveal how the narratives we tell ourselves and believe are inevitably constructed, offering a glimpse of the structures that underlie and apparently determine human existence.
This New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice, is "hilarious . . . a riotous success. Equal parts campus novel, buddy comedy and meditation on art-making under late capitalism, the novel is a hugely funny portrait of an egomaniac and his nebbish best friend" (The Washington Post). It’s the end of summer 2003. George W. Bush has recently declared the mission in Iraq accomplished, the unemployment rate is at its highest in years, and Martha Stewart has just been indicted for insider trading. Meanwhile, somewhere in the Midwest, Troy Augustus Loudermilk (fair-haired, statuesque, charismatic) and his companion Harry Rego (definitely none of those things) step out of a silver Land Cruiser and onto the campus of The Seminars, America’s most prestigious creative writing program, to which Loudermilk has recently been accepted for his excellence in poetry. Loudermilk, however, has never written a poem in his life. Wickedly entertaining, beguiling, layered, and sly, Loudermilk is a social novel for our time: a comedy of errors that deftly examines class, gender, and inheritance, and subverts our pieties about literature, authorship, art making, and the institutions that sustain them.
Stella Krakus, a curator at Manhattan's renowned Central Museum of Art, is having the roughest week ever. Everything is going wrong, including the fact a beloved colleague, Paul, has gone missing. Strange things are afoot; it's almost more than she can overanalyse. But the appearance of a strange map, depicting a mysterious 19th-century utopian settlement, sends Stella on an all-consuming research mission where she discovers the unbearable secret that Paul's been keeping, and charts a course out of the chaos of her own life.
