In Merrill Feitell’s “The Cupcake Factory,” we bear witness to a moment between siblings that we know will become, for one of them, a searing memory. We know because it’s told as if the scene is already crystallizing as it unfolds, and with a weight that can only manifest. We talked to Feitell about the story, cupcakes, long projects, point of view, and shameful stacks of unread books.
This latest installment of Bourbon and Milk (in which writer-parents tackle the ins and outs of working while raising little ones) features authors Casey Fleming, Greg Brown, Manuel Gonzales, Miah Arnold, Joshua Rivkin, Lacy M. Johnson, Alyssa Knickerbocker, Joshua Furst and ASF‘s own Giuseppe Taurino on the tricky issue of discussing the 2016 election and this week’s inauguration of Donald J. Trump […]
In our January web exclusive story “The Key Bearer’s Parents,” a pair of loving parents (clowns, by trade) explain how they raised their son in order to try and make sense of his very troubling decision—a decision whose implications seem to depend entirely on the reader’s point of view. It’s a story that prompts an endless number of questions, so we were thrilled to have the chance to ask them of author Siân Griffiths.
In November’s web exclusive, “America,” a white teenager in Ohio finds herself awakening in the body of the Puerto Rican “Marisol” from A West Side Story. The story is beguiling at first because of its voice and given the comic richness inherent in the world of high school theater. But then layer upon layer quickly opens up, revealing truths about identity via the innocence and volatility of adolescence. We chatted briefly with author Erin McGraw about appropriation, empathy, and identity in fiction […]
It felt sad and strange today to be sitting at the helm of a magazine called American Short Fiction. That first word on our masthead, our understanding of what that word means, pulled and pinched and pummeled as it has been over the last few months by our leaders and our pundits and by the new president-elect most of all, took a violent final beating last night, and it was hard, this morning, not to hear a bitter, bruised irony in its syllables […]