Chicago Review

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

Articles from Vol. 40, No. 4, Fall

A Moirologist's Notes
Frailians place their dead in cliffs, hammering beds for them into the sheer rock face. Inhabitants of Khronos carve their first words and last into headstones; often they're the same. Cimmerians don't mark where anyone is buried; Laudania has signs...
An Interview with John Barth
Like Ernest Hemingway, another ground-breaking writer of twentieth-century American fiction, John Barth writes every day, the initial drafts always in pen. He says that his inspiration does not "waft like a gentle whisper from a Greek muse," but resembles,...
Four Rabbis
I. The Rabbi and Death Even chopped liver films with it, edges of kugel rusting, rubbery flesh of fish. Yea, though I walk through the valley of Shiva, I will fear no evil, my Tums and my Seltzer comfort me. He takes notes, rehashes stories, "A good...
Poetry and Vision
Visionaries, even if they happen to be like our Campana, are inevitably the most artless, the blindest of creatures on this earth. Eugenio Montale I am afraid to start this essay on "vision" in poetry because, like many Americans, I have been blessed...
Shylock after Auschwitz
On a discussion night during the recent run of The Merchant of Venice, the air at the Hartford Stage Company was filled with emotional heat as a panel on stereotypes in general evolved into a clash over Shylock's character and the ethics of staging the...
The Future Is All We Fear
We were poets and had no memories. Every afternoon, perhaps from four o'clock, we stood there in front of that bookstore and talked. We read poetry and carried on discussions. It was like that everyday. Words were not real anymore. Just like a swarm...
The Hermit and the Fallen Sky
Long ago, neither here nor there nor elsewhere, two kingdoms went to war. One of these kingdoms was called Triassia. Suddenly all the soldiers of Triassia had work: training companies of boys to be warriors like themselves. The blacksmiths of the land...
"The Oblique, the Indirect Approach": Elizabeth Bishop's "Rainy Season; Sub-Tropics." (Prose Poem)
Elizabeth Bishop's prose poem, "Rainy Season; Sub-Tropics," though one of her least commented-on works, contains important articulations by Bishop about herself as a poet, and about her poetic principles and practice.(1) At the same time, its three monologues...
The Occultation
1: The Hedge The black goat twitches and one neat hoof clicks against the yellow earthenware pot filled with honey. Red froth has formed along the thin-lipped smile cruelly drawn below the animal's chin, and when its ribcage heaves in a final tremor...

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.