Chicago Review

An international journal of literature, interviews, and reviews. For academic audiences.

Articles from Vol. 41, No. 1, Winter

Agee on Film
From the evidence, James Agee wrote his film reviews very early in the morning, after everyone else had gone to bed. Many times he was simply editing down what he had said to friends through the night about movies and the thousand other things that come...
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From L.A. Chicano
For me it all started with my mother, because she had the stuff. If you have to ask: "What is the 'stuff?'" I will have to answer as Louie Armstrong did when asked: "What is Jazz?" "If you don't know now, you never will!" Her name was Relucia, but her...
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Each word's a stone, a paving stone, a flat rock, and like the little girl who trod on a loaf to save herself in the swamp but still sank down until she was grasped by the Marsh King, I step on the word blue, a color, and feel myself descending slowly...
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Leonid Goes for Help
Leonid Andromodov, panderer to the socially correct and composer mauvais of pastiches, operettas, and secular spectacles, returned home one night from yet another late run-through to find his wife, Sylvia, dancing recklessly on the kitchen table. He...
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Days and the days. They clank like freight cars manufactured only to clank and not deliver the goods to sweet children over the mountain. The engineer must come! Let him climb up to the high swaying cab and recommend shiny black coals of history at last...
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My Wife's Buick
"As long as it works in reverse," Janey said, counting out three hundred dollars in twenties. Mr. Paxson stuffed the bills into his shirt pocket and folded the tarp the rest of the way off the rusty blue '74 Buick. We were out behind his dairy barn,...
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If my right eye is higher than my left, is it closer to God? Momma says it isn't so, but she can't tell the difference between them. I can. And I know. I know more than I should for ten. The apple that Adam and Eve bit was knowledge and I am afraid....
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The Afterlife
Shots and drafts? Ken would ask, and I'd say, Shots and drafts, and off we'd go to some bar on Greenmount Street for jiggers of cheap whiskey and ten-ounce brews, fresh from the tap, or just the beer itself: most days we had to get up early and prepare...
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The Glass
He wore a white shirt and puttered among the tomato vines. They smelled burnt when he trod upon them, those vines that were spent and hollowed on the straw mulch. The sky was scudding, gusting high up. He reached for a tomato and held it in his hand...
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