A Month in Books: July — Every One Still Here
On July 26, I turned forty, which is the kind of birthday that makes people ask how you feel in the tone normally reserved for medical test results. I felt exactly like myself, which was
ILINCA: „A fost odată o femeie care a încetat să mai ceară voie să existe“
La 18 ani, ILINCA reprezenta România la Eurovision. Aproape un deceniu mai târziu, nu mai pare interesată să reprezinte pe nimeni înainte de a se reprezenta pe sine. Între yodel, muzică lăutărească, pop, metal, vulnerabilitate
Dosarul cu ani lipsă
În 2008, după ce îl ceruse ani la rând, Herta Müller a primit în sfârșit dosarul ei de la Securitate. Lipseau ani întregi. Fabrica în care lucrase, locul unde fusese hărțuită zilnic până când
A Month in Books: Old Men, Bad Men, Witches, Omens, and Too Much Soup
I don’t know what this month was, exactly. A literary buffet? A punishment? A neurological experiment I conducted on myself without signing the consent form? At some point, while moving from Can Xue’s dissociative love
Încă în faza de dating cu cititorii: ZYX Books la trei ani. Interviu cu Alexandra Rusu
Sunt edituri pe care le recunoști după cotor și edituri pe care le recunoști după ton. ZYX Books face parte, clar, din a doua categorie. În trei ani și 65 de titluri, a reușit ceva
A Month in Books: Nonfiction, One Whale Carcass, and 550 Pages Written with a Calligraphy Brush
This was an odd little month for me. Terribly unfamiliar. Administratively, I was – for the first time in 12 years – not working. At all. My own little slice of sabbatical – I think
A Month in Books: March — Featuring Women as They Are (and as They Aren’t Allowed to Be)
Life works in mysterious ways. But you know who else does? Me. Because I did not set out to read only books written by women and about women this month. I wish I could tell
A Month in Books: February — Releasing Ghouls
Ugh, February was such a bummer. The kind of month where my headaches weren’t dramatic enough to justify total system failure, but persistent enough to feel like a personality trait. I discovered, quite unintentionally, that
A Month in Books. We Are Made and Unmade, Repeatedly
January has a very specific kind of grief. A patient one. It’s always felt less like a month and more like a mental state. Like standing barefoot in a cold room, holding last year’s memories
A Month in Books: December (or, The Year I Tried to Read My Way Out of Myself)
I started this little ritual in January with one fuzzy idea in mind: that if I kept track of what I read every month, I might learn something – about books, about myself, about how
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#13, vară 2026
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