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Winter 2025 Cover with photo by Lys Arango of 3 coal miners sitting on a bench during lunch

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The Green Room, Spring 1982
… they will ever bring forth another Moby-Dick. As Mr. Seelye points out, things haven’t been the same for the sea since … Seelye does not confine himself to salt water alone: he is completing a three-volume work on the rivers of America, one … , the first edition of which appeared in 1873 as Studies in the History of the Renaissance. Mr. Barolsky himself …
Captain Andy
… their gnawing, or the high stink of daisies, but one that’s combed sand, palm, crab. What light there is mottles my hands into sealskin, dumb critters I killed for a time, and not for food. … tide to tide. Only a stirring in the groin tricked me into coming about, my Ngarima. She’s a strong wind, she filled …
Wedding in Holland
… that summer. It was July, the willows were heavy, the canals full, the fields lush; there was peace in Holland. It … The salty smell of the sea spiced everything. My mother accompanied me to the boat. But before we crossed the … followed him on stocking-feet over the plank. “Did someone die?” uncle asked. The old couple nodded. “Come and have …
Essays
Poor Historians
… I imagine these things, the less real they are likely to become. I believe, against all reason and everything I know as … the toxicity of keeping secrets. One of his early studies showed that people who wrote about their traumas were … that many children feel. Grealy recalls that at various points in her treatment and its aftermath her cancer …
Defining America’s Role In A Unipolar World
… Vietnam, but the bitter wartime debate, except for a deeply committed minority, would not outlast the termination of the … protect its favored international position from future rivals. Triumphalists William Kristol and Robert Kagan took up … reluctance to accept casualties: “How can you have soldiers who are ready to kill, who are not ready to die?” …
A Trip Through the West
… relatives. After dinner. I’ve eaten so much I know I’ll die. No lamps turned up yet. Cream-colored roses float the … lonely, evil and innocent in the spruce camp he’d let you  come— calling “Owl!” “His name’s Al—A-L,” my mother says … haired lightly— rubs the wire. What have they come for, since they won’t be petted, won’t take grass? 3 …
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