Author Archive

Peek Into Online Dating Profiles of Greensboro Review Stories

Looking to meet some new short fiction?

By Hana Ishige, Editorial Intern

 

Name: “Goblin” by Robert Stone

Birthplace: Greensboro Review Issue 114

Height: Short Story

About me: Has an unbridled sense of feeling, flush with full-sensory details that immerse you further and further into the relationship between the father and the son. Inhabits a goblin who, upon reading me, you’ll find means much to the tethering of the family.

Sound of my voice: “Life could not simply be the wreckage you left behind you.”

—-

Name: “Extra Life” by Arielle Hebert

Birthplace: Greensboro Review Issue 114

Height: Poem

About me: Quick and sharp, tumbling through images of a near-death experience into introspective thought. Has a fascinating ability to go from something as small as a bullet to something as grand as the sea, to life—an extra life.

Sound of my voice: “This is the closest I’ve ever felt to our planet, / to becoming it.”

—-

Name: “Jenny Lynn & Buddy” by Jordan Brown

Birthplace: Greensboro Review Issue 113

Height: Short Story

About me: Guides the readers through snippets of Jenny Lynn’s and Buddy’s lives, diving into a broad trajectory of their relationship and their independent lives. Expect to see themes of love, sex, rehabilitation, and growth. From the beginning to the end, you’ll find in me a glimpse of two interesting lives intertwined.

Sound of my voice: “‘I remember your birthday every year, Buddy,’ she says. […]‘Every year’ he says back to her. ‘I remember yours too.’”

—-

Name: “Worship” by Beth Konkoski

Birthplace: Greensboro Review Issue 114

Height: Flash Fiction

About me: Carries an authentic voice who speaks of a life spent living in Church, with nuns and with worship. Artfully describes a certain day, one out of many, in which young boys play a game of tag, all while the nuns watch with growing trepidation, all while my narrator watches quietly but not silently.

Sound of my voice: “I tasted the copper truth of worship, held a throat full of awe for what the world could look like, how its shapes and soaring colors might open and fill me.”

—-

Name: “Focal Point” by Emma DePanise

Birthplace: Greensboro Review Issue 113

Height: Poem

About me: Invites you to ponder the meaning of your surroundings. My speaker holds their observations in the palm of their hand, wondering if what they see is damaged or full of life. Read me, and you’ll see images in sharp detail, at first glance perhaps personal to the narrator—upon second glance, personally to you.

Sound of my voice: “There is color everywhere I mistake / as destruction.”

Subscribe today to read more!

 

Hana Ishige is currently attending the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. She majors in English with a double minor in Creative Writing and Rhetoric and Public Advocacy. She is an editor at The Coraddi: Literary & Visual Arts Magazine, one of the oldest organizations at UNCG, and an editorial intern at The Greensboro Review. Outside of school, she has worked on ghostwriting projects and a translated children’s book.

Happy Pub Day to GR Editor Emeritus Maggie Cooper

Happy Pub Day to former Greensboro Review fiction editor Maggie Cooper! We’re excited to celebrate Cooper’s new chapbook, The Theme Park of Women’s Bodies, out today from Bull City Press.

“Intricate, unsettling parables of womanhood. These stories function like tiny jewel-bright dioramas, creating whole worlds and lives in miniature—down to the hum of the electricity, the dampness of the caves, the smell of the blood. The Theme Park of Women’s Bodies is beautiful, razor-sharp, haunting, and true.”

—Clare Beams, author of The Garden

Order your copy today from Durham’s Bull City Press or from your local independent bookstore.

Image of book cover

Why We Chose It: “History of the World” by Caitlyn Klum

By Justin Nash, Managing Editor

I certainly don’t speak for all editors when I say this, but it’s rare that a long poem catches my interest. Seeing a submitted poem that’s three, four, five pages long among a sea of others the usual half to three-quarters of a page—I feel often like a writer is throwing the gauntlet. There’s something about that length—not an epic but certainly not a short, pressurized lyric—that so often leaves me thinking, all right, let’s see if they pull this off.

And despite my admitted bias against the medium-long poem, Klum’s “History of the World” got me on board more immediately than any poem I read this period. Its initial lie, that “The balance beam was invented between 1047 and 1465,” tells us the common fixture of modern gymnastics, widely cited as being invented in Germany at the start of the 19th century, was first created somewhere in the mid to late medieval period. We can’t be sure, specifically. But what may, at first glance, be something to flag for fact-checking quickly becomes a hilarious manipulation. The second and third lines: “At the time, there were no children, only being // disappointed, which was invented in 1438”

Not always funny, exactly, but perpetually absurd, “History of the World” goes on with statements that cast doubt on truth and precision. The speaker’s mother was invented in 1203, their father in 1406. Their mother also invented the interstate and the color blue, and (of course) the balance beam. Their father “was invented quickly.” And among all these strange statements is the speaker describing “The sky stretched / skinny and red across the earth like a wound” or “the first instance of a girl sobbing / for no reason, shaking her one self inside.” There’s weirdness and tenderness and beautiful imagery, all layered together to highlight the complexity and intentional craftiness of a poem that a person could otherwise be too quick to write off as confused.

The truth is, this poem doesn’t always make perfect sense, and I’m not sure a poem should have to, and either way this particular poem clearly isn’t especially interesting in that anyway. Klum’s poem is three pages long and every bit of it is compelling. I think, probably, that preparation was invented before 1905, but I also think I believe wholeheartedly that fathers are often invented quickly. Ultimately, what “History of the World” has is something to say, and a uniquely interesting way of trying to say it. Whatever my own preferences for the shape something may take, that’s a ride I’ll always be along for.

Caitlyn Klum’s “History of the World” appears in our new Spring 2024 Issue 115.

Subscribe today to read more!

Justin Nash is a poet and visual artist from Delaware. A former intern of Copper Canyon Press and the Fine Arts Work Center, he currently serves as the Managing Editor for The Greensboro Review and is a senior reader in poetry for Cherry Tree.

Friday Poetry Roundup: Spring Edition

By Caroline White, Poetry Editor

The following featured poems appear in our new Spring 2024 Issue 115. Subscribe today to read more!

“Prime Rib Resting” by Jacob Schepers caught our attention by being a small poem with a big scope and a concise, tangible series of images. The line breaks themselves create meaning in this poem through their dissonance, working against the grammar in a fascinating way and thereby adding an additional layer of complexity to the work. Schepers uses syntax as a vehicle to drive the poem without needing any punctuation; thus, the energy of the poem continues to build without pause, allowing seamless movement from the specificity of a bleeding piece of meat on a plate to the view of an entire planet. We appreciate how the subtle violence of the meat as the first and primary image strategically and literally bleeds through the rest of the poem, and I love the tone of the final movement and its indication of desperation presented in a way that’s self-aware and realistic.

 

Martha Paz-Soldan’s imaginative “Funicular” arrested us through its ability to create a universe through lyricism. This poem is deeply language driven and the tone carries the poem wonderfully – the reliance on language alone showcases Paz-Soldan’s feat of poetic athleticism. The speaker presents us with a montage of images and brief but powerful glimpses of the self. The cleanliness of this poem is astounding: every word, phrase, and punctuation mark feels perfectly placed. However, within that landscape of precision, the poem still manages to be surprising and exciting in each line. The quiet ending, for example, of the fishermen in their knit hats beautifully juxtaposes the shock of the man dropping his glass eye in the water cup. I appreciate that the poem also takes the risk of using the second person, resulting in a slightly larger understanding of the speaker that elevates the poem.

 

We loved the narrative-based strangeness in “Valentine’s Day with My Octopus Lover” by Benjamin S. Grossberg. The creativity of the dramatic situation itself immediately piqued our interest, even just through the title alone. This poem’s ability to juggle humor and outlandishness with tenderness reveals a true agility by never succumbing to oversentimentality nor silliness. Despite centering around an octopus lover, this work focuses on the very human acts of forget and of fantasy. The question “It can’t be so crazy for/ an octopus to want that, too, / can it?” feels like the crux of the poem and creates a vital moment of extending the poem outside of its immediate situation — the rhetorical question works masterfully to raise the stakes of the poem. I find the muted ending of the poem to be moving and immaculately tied into the themes of water and the ocean.

 

The form and imagination in “Alternative Reality” by Ugochukwu Damian Okpara combine to create a poem we found moving and memorable. By imagining a different reality, the speaker has a venue to explore ideas of identity and place. The poem creates a type of realistic surrealism, despite that seeming oxymoronic, through its use of the hypothetical to explore both the known and the unknown. The anaphora of “suppose” is emotionally effective in reminding the reader that the speaker is imagining an alternative reality, while the repetition of the word “name” emphasizes the importance of a name culturally and the weight that it carries. I love how the poem moves all the way from evoking god to the realism of an uber app and its success in handling such a wide scope.

 

Caroline White is a second-year poetry student. She is the winner of the Prime Number Magazine‘s Prize for Poetry, and her work has appeared in Askew Magazine. She currently serves as a Poetry Editor for The Greensboro Review.

Happy Pub Day to GR Contributor Stephen Hundley

Happy Pub Day to Greensboro Review contributor Stephen Hundley! We’re so excited that Hundley’s debut novel, Bomb Island, is out today from Hub City Press.

From the publisher:

“Part coming-of-age summer romance, part thriller, Bomb Island is a funny and fast-paced Southern novel exploring subculture communities, survival, and found family set on an island near an unexploded atomic bomb.”

“Stephen Hundley has summoned forth a world that achieves a sense of strangeness and wonder while creating characters who are unrelentingly human in their flaws and strengths. A remarkable novel by an immensely talented young writer.”—Ron Rash, author of The Caretaker

Order your copy today from Greensboro’s Scuppernong Books or from your local independent bookstore.

And while you wait for your copy to arrive, check out Stephen Hundley’s flash piece, “Tiger Drill in Butterfly Class” (Issue 108, Fall 2020).

Bomb Island by Stephen Hundley

Why We Chose It: “You Can Never Come Back to Now” by Edmund Sandoval

By Sierra Stonebraker, Fiction Editor

 

Sharp and exciting language is the most immediate way I engage with a story, and my favorite aspect of “You Can Never Come Back to Now” (issue 115) is the prose, which functions as a main engine of the narrative. The first few sentences conjure images of a world-ending asteroid veering toward Earth before shifting gears to ground the reader into the perspective of Evan. These first few sentences will grab you by the collar with visions of the end of the world. The rest of the story will put its arm over your shoulders, smooth out the wrinkles in your shirt, and walk alongside you while relaying a compelling story about a couple struggling to find their footing in a capitalist system that may not be as immediately world-ending as an asteroid, but in many ways, feels like it is.

This narrative focuses mainly on the quiet dynamics of a couple living in a world ruled by technology that is becoming increasingly interpersonal and on track to replace human-to-human connection. Evan and Em attempt to relate to each other while Evan is unemployed and struggling to place himself in an industry that no longer has use for his skills, and Em is employed, loves her job, but her connection to Evan dwindles as she remains focused and steadfast in her career of producing apps. As a way to cope with his fears and loneliness, Evan becomes obsessed with a crystal he ordered from a website, praying it can bring good luck to his life. At the same time, instead of attempting to connect with Em, he uses a mindfulness app named OptiBot to catalogue his hopes and fears, an app that, unbeknownst to Evan, Em has access to the backend of and is able to see everything Evan reveals to the app.

This is a story that captured me with its complex prose while keeping me grounded in the narrative of a young couple existing in a world that refuses to make room for them. The prose is able to get away with complicated and long sentences that support its themes of technology and mysticism because, at its core, the story is not really about the end of the world, but about two people who continuously wake up with this sense that the end is near. Even if they are unable to see the asteroid veering down on them, the sense that it’s on its way seeps through in every word.

Edmund Sandoval’s “You Can Never Come Back to Now” appears in our new Spring 2024 Issue 115.

Subscribe today to read more!

 

Sierra Stonebraker is a second-year MFA student in fiction at UNCG. Her work has appeared in The Greensboro Review and Allegory Ridge’s fiction anthology Archipelago. She grew up in the high desert of Southern California and lived in Seattle, WA for four years before moving to Greensboro. She currently serves as a Fiction Editor for The Greensboro Review.

Why We Chose It: “Interiors” by Leah Yacknin-Dawson

By Katie Worden, Editorial Assistant

Against the backdrop of Chicago, Leah Yacknin-Dawson unfolds a story of grief, pain, and love—probing the limits of each. “Interiors,” indeed, relishes the inner. It is defined by the introspective eye of its narrator, Anna, who renders her emotional landscape with as much detail and acuity as she does the outside world. The present moment of this story is short—an afternoon in the Museum of Contemporary Art—but, through Anna’s narration, becomes something expansive. Each memory or moment of introspection opens unto its own world, not unlike the artwork that Anna so carefully scrutinizes as she browses the MCA galleries. Through this deft manipulation of narrative structure, the present problem of the story—whether Anna and her sister should visit the deathbed of their mother’s abusive ex-partner—is weighted by memory made immediate. We are made witness to love and violence’s frightening overlap, to the confusion our characters find therein.

With striking prose, Dawson draws us into this uncertain world. We see this uncertainty in Anna’s tendency to define herself against and around her sister, and we see it in the story’s final image, rendered through dialogue: “‘You can’t see it, but the Sears Tower is just behind the clouds. . . . You can’t see it, but it’s there.’” The weight of things unseen, the promise of the horizon. “Interiors,” too, points toward something almost palpable, but just out of reach—an easy way out, an answer, a definition. I was reminded, here, of a line written by Elena Ferrante: “Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines toward obscurity, not clarity.” Dawson’s story is real life, or as close as it gets.

 

Leah Yacknin-Dawson’s “Interiors” appears in our new Spring 2024 Issue 115.

Subscribe today to read more!

Katie Worden is a fiction writer and second-year MFA student from New York. She is a recipient of the Fred Chappell Fellowship and the Jiménez-Porter Literary Prize. In addition to teaching undergraduate writing and composition, she currently serves as an editorial assistant for The Greensboro Review.

Springtime Listening: Poetry Playlist for Issue 115

By Calista Malone, Poetry Editor

One of the things that connects me to poetry, or rather gets me writing, is music. Maybe it’s the melody that helps stir a rhythm in me that must be written down in stanzas. Maybe it’s one great lyric that sets me off down a road to create something completely new. In short, music is inspiring for me and I think it is for many. Poetry (and maybe writing more generally) has a long history with music. It’s no coincidence icon Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature. I’ve created a playlist around each of the poems in issue 115. The songs in this playlist were chosen for a variety of reasons, some of which I’ve shared, some for which the listener can decide the connection for themselves. Happy listening!

Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Ej3fdZrQhSBZa7p9znRq1?si=c8b4f7ea039741e4

Subscribe today to read more of our new Spring 2024 Issue 115!

 

“February: A Dictionary” by Weijia Pan

“The Parting Glass” by boygenius, Ye Vagabonds

When considering sound, I originally chose this cover of the High Kings’ song by boygenius (an American indie band) and Ye Vagabonds (an irish indie band) because I liked how the music made me slow down my reading, but what really spoke to me was the natural glide between the themes of the poem and the song. Many might recognize the melody of “The Parting Glass” from the classic and well known tune, Auld Lang Syne, but it was actually “The Parting Glass” that predated Robert Burns’ poem. Since Auld Lang Syne and “The Parting Glass” primarily deal with remembering and the sending of one on a new journey, it naturally aligned with this poem that remembers February and the speaker’s own heritage and family.

 

“Conversations In Heaven” by Suphil Lee Park

“Ya’aburnee” by Halsey

I was originally drawn to this pairing because I thought the tenderness of Halsey’s ballad complemented the slow aching of Park’s poem. As I looked more closely at the text of the poem and the song, I realized these two pieces of art deal with similar themes of love and the afterlife. Both begin by addressing that love is not easy, or as the speaker of the poem says, “love is a simple hassle.” Then they both move into the natural world: conversation with the monarchs and Ya’aburnee with images of the moon and tides. Halsey moves from these images and presses on to address the love of the speaker. Park’s poem sets off a stanza that finds the imperative with “Look” and “See.” Finally, the song and poem both deal with mortality. Park promises a “heaven at the foot of a cooling tub” and Halsey’s song lingers before heaven with death:

I think we could live forever
In each other’s faces ’cause I
Always see my youth in you
And if we don’t live forever
Maybe one day we’ll trade places
Darling, you will bury me
Before I bury you
Before I bury you.

 

“Am I a Bad Mother:” by Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach

“Hey Ma” by Bon Iver

 

“Case Study” by Nik Moore

“Seeds” by Yoke Lore

 

“Pig Therapist” by Mark Spero

“The Sunshine” by Manchester Orchestra

 

“Funicular” by Martha Paz Soldan

“Boys of Summer” covered by First Aid Kit

 

“Valentine’s Day with My Octopus Lover” by Benjamin S. Grossberg

“Olivia” by Wolves of Glendale

 

“Cock” by Max Seifert

“Pyotr” by Bad Books

 

“Prime Rib Resting” by Jacob Schepers

“Simmer” by Hayley Williams

 

“Alternative Reality” by Ugochukwu Damian Okpara

“Ceilings” by Lizzy McAlpine

 

“History of the World” by Caitlyn Klum

“Edge of the World” by the Beaches

 

“Demigod” by C. Dale Young

“Too Many Gods” by A$AP Rocky, Joey Bada$$

 

“Palmistry” by Michael Waters

“Linger” by the Cranberries

 

Calista Malone is a second-year poet from the North Florida panhandle. She has an MA in Creative Writing from Auburn University. Her poems have appeared in Gulf Stream Magazine, Naugatuck River Review, Saw Palm, and elsewhere. She currently serves as a Poetry Editor for The Greensboro Review.

Which Short Story You Should Read from The Greensboro Review, Based on Your Astrological Sign

By Nellie Hildebrandt, Fiction Editor

 

Aries: “Men With Guns” by Ania Mroczek (Issue 114)—Hanging with hunters and aspiring climate change activists is something the bold, impulsive Aries would admire. They are bound to find the inherent danger of a glove box gun and repeated “NO TRESPASSING” signs appealing.

 

Taurus: “The Phenomenal Funeral Formula” by Caitlin Rae Taylor (Issue 112)—The pragmatic, determined Taurus will first empathize with the hard work Bruce puts into his funeral home business, but then find deeper solace in the memories of his frustrated, defeated son.

 

Gemini: “Unity Ritual” by Phoebe Peter Oathout (Issue 113)—A Gemini is the best person to have at your wedding—even if it’s fictional. The social, curious storyteller of the zodiac, a Gemini will find abundant entertainment at this intersection of Amazon wishlists, Wyoming Tinder, and vegan cousins.

 

Cancer: “Jenny Lynn and Buddy” by Jordan Brown (Issue 113)—Cancers are known to seek a strong sense of home and comfort, which is why Jenny Lynn and Buddy’s quiet, domestic story would be a great match. The way the characters try their best to care for each other would melt anyone—especially a water sign.

 

Leo: “The Mystic Marriage of Saint Catherine of Siena” by Molly Guinn Bradley (Issue 111)—This story is packed with Leo elements. To start, the theater setting will more than likely appeal to the performance-loving, theatrical Leo. The nostalgic, coming-of-age moments might remind a Leo of their outgoing high-school years. Lastly, the way the story shifts from a first person plural to a first person singular, zeroing in on a single voice, will be relatable to a Leo, who always finds themselves at the center of attention.

 

Virgo: “Our Bodies Know How to Hold On” by Susan Finch (Forthcoming this spring in issue 115!)—The precise language and exact details of this story will not be lost on a perfectionist Virgo (known as the editor of the zodiac). A healer who thrives on acts of service, Virgo will connect to the many forms of nurturing enacted by Avery and their mother.

 

Libra: “Interiors” by Leah Yacknin-Dawson (Forthcoming this spring in issue 115!)—Libras are indecisive, so they more than anyone will appreciate someone telling them exactly what to read. This one seems to be the best fit: while the aesthetically-minded Libra might initially be most drawn to the art exhibit setting, they will stay for the complicated family dynamics, anxious to see how the emotional conflict gets resolved (from the comfort and safety of their bed).

 

Scorpio: “Grudge Person” by Sasha Debevec-McKenney (Issue 114)—The most fiery of the astrological signs, a Scorpio will (a little too happily) submit themselves to the outrage of this short piece—and then find themselves surprised, or maybe betrayed, by the gentle, emotional action of its ending.

 

Sagittarius: “Billowing Down the Bayou” by Cameron Sanders (Issue 113)—Sagittarians are the travelers and explorers of the zodiac—perfect candidates for a story about a rowboat on the bayou. Spontaneous, impulsive Sagittarius might not even be shocked by the young narrator’s final gesture.

 

Capricorn: “Chromatophore Revival” by Larry Flynn (Issue 112)—A Capricorn is destined to have a strong moral compass, which will make Cheyenne’s environmental concerns that much more devastating. Goal-oriented and driven, they will be eager to go diving with conservationists.

 

Aquarius: “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory” by Sarah Elaine Smith (Issue 112)—The eccentric, semi-feral “wild girl” might be especially easy to love for an individualistic, philosophical Aquarius (not only are they known to be the loners of the zodiac, they famously have a talent for music).

 

Pisces: “Driftless” by Ian Power-Luetscher (Issue 113)—The narrator of this story is living in his own television show. The daydreaming, imaginative Pisces will laugh a little too hard at the narrator anthropomorphizing their dog, pretending they have never personally imagined their pet speaking.

 

 

Nellie Hildebrandt is a fiction writer from South Carolina and a second-year MFA student. She currently serves as Fiction Editor for The Greensboro Review. Her work has appeared in apt. You can find her on X/twitter @nelliefrancesh.

Dive into the Archives: Technology & Connection

By Gabrielle Girard, Editorial Assistant

This week, to mark the many efforts to connect as well as to unplug during this winter holiday season, we at the GR bring you a themed dive into the stories of Issue 113.

 

While The Greensboro Review does not publish themed issues and remains dedicated to “the best fiction and poetry—regardless of theme, subject, or style,” as a reader, I am always looking for patterns and connections. Maybe it’s the way textures and pressures of our current moment show up in art, or maybe it’s just my own imagination, but I can’t read a literary magazine without looking for connective threads. In the Spring 2023 Issue 113, three stories especially stood out to me because of the unique way they each incorporate technology, highlighting characters’ emotional states and heightening characterization.

In Phoebe Peter Oathout’s “Unity Ritual,” Ema navigates sexuality and romance through technology, making content for pay-per-view platforms, and “burn[ing] through Wyoming Tinder” before she downloads Hinge and meets Sid. Although they spend time together in person, their “love developed over email.” Sid’s confident online persona and Ema’s Instagram account are places where they show new dimensions of themselves. Technology both encapsulates their relationship and illuminates the pressures of transphobia within the story, allowing self-revelation and expression, and moving adjacent to but never becoming synonymous with safety and connection.

Ian Power-Luetscher’s short story “Driftless” opens with the line, “One day I end up trapped inside of a TV show.” The narrator lays out his relationship and career conflicts through the lens of a sitcom. He says, “Cut to later,” and we jump months. We toggle back and forth between the present and painful memories in the past. In addition to being a vibrant, funny, and engaging mechanism for handling time and structure in a story, technology is integral to understanding the narrator’s mental state, reliability, and characterization.

In J.S. Nunn’s “The Committee of Household Electronics,” Daniel is a work-from-home employee reluctant to return to the office. His computer, refrigerator, alarm clock, and anything else with a text-to-speech function are malfunctioning and meddling in his life. It starts with his computer acting up in work video calls and escalates from there. The electronics’ voices, whether real or imagined, replace human connection and seem to actively try to isolate the narrator. Whether it’s a cause, a solution, or a manifestation of a deeper pain, this story’s use of technology interfaces with the narrator’s interiority and characterization, tapping into themes of modern isolation and loneliness while still preserving an element of humor.

 

Gabrielle Girard is a second-year MFA student in fiction at UNCG, where she serves as a graduate teaching assistant and editorial assistant for The Greensboro Review. Her work is available in Atlantis and Signet.