The Impossible, the Implausible, and the Real: A Conversation with Ryka Aoki and A.J. Bryce of Trans-Genre Press

In April of 2012, A.J. Bryce, parent, musician, artist, and director of Trans-Genre Press, published musician, martial artist, and writer Ryka Aoki‘s stunning debut title, Seasonal Velocities, from the basement of his ailing mother’s home in Granite City, Illinois. Neither Bryce nor Aoki knew enough to know the enormity of the project they’d taken on in… read more

Elliott DeLine: Art from Life

“I just have a highly personal process when it comes to creating fiction. I think all writers do it to an extent.”

Author Elliott DeLine took some time to talk with The Lambda Literary Review about his work, success, failure, and the tensions between art, individuality, and community.
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The Fruits of Winter: Ryka Aoki's 'Seasonal Velocities'

As Kate Bornstein’s Gender Outlaws once represented the lure and possibilities of trans community to me, alone and scared as I was in some unswept corner of [Georgia], Ryka Aoki’s book represents the possibility of healing, of hope and redemption…… read more

Literature at the End of the World

A variety of theories, predictions, prophecies, astronomical fears, and ancient calendar concerns mark December 21st, 2012—the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, the return of the sun—as the end of the world.

What of literature, then?

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Stones Under the Table and Missing Pigs: A Review of Matias Viegener's ‘2500 Random Things About Me, Too'

Matias Viegener’s 2500 Random Things About Me, Too may be an answer to that question of what we do with our powers of digital text and connection. As our brains rewire, immersed in the great weirdness of cut-n-paste cyber space, social networks, and 24/7 technological tethers, perhaps we can take the engineering constraints of the mediums to make profound and shockingly intimate art…. read more

How The Dead Teach the Living: A Dying Reader's Guide

  “all day and night, music, a quiet, bright reedsong. If it fades, we fade.” -Rumi   The summer that I turned 20 I met Jack Kerouac. He didn’t meet me. Much time had passed, the earth wedged too firmly between us. I washed my car carefully in preparation, filled it with bright sunflowers, photographic… read more