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“Travelers by Helon Habila” Reviewed by LaVonne Roberts
What is it like to be a refugee? Around the world, 70.8 million people have been forcibly displaced. It’s hard to fathom the terrible extent of the refugee crisis, but Habila captures the humanity of his characters in a way that newspapers can’t. Travelers comes at a time when Americans are being forced to reckon with what our country is becoming, what values we truly hold dear. Habila’s stories parallel anti-immigrant narratives being espoused in the U.S. and globally today.
Helon Habila started working on Travelers in 2013, when in Berlin on a one-year fellowship.
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“All About Youth” by Fumiki Takahashi (translated from the Japanese by Toshiya Kamei)
All About Youth
Takehiko Nomi was behind the wheel of the Audi iX, and we drove up a lush green mountain road. The sunbeams shimmered through the trees and poured over the shiny red hood.
Letting the autopilot feature take over, Takehiko closed his eyes and sipped the hot cup of semi-strong coffee he’d purchased despite the warm weather. He eased his curly-haired head back onto the soft headrest. He seemed to contemplate the upcoming reunion, and I wondered if memories might have flashed through his mind.
We were going to meet someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.
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Five micro-poems by Margarita Serafimova (translated from the Bulgarian) Photography by Milen Neykov
L’éternel retour
(Eternal Return)An animal I am when I love you,
and above my face, an aureole of cosmic bodies is spinning –
ringed planets; a star’s glint.
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L’éternel retour
(Вечното завръщане)Животно съм, когато те обичам,
а над лицето ми се върти ореол от космически тела –
планети с пръстени; отблясък на звезда.
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“Between Grief and Nothing” by Linnea Nelson
What interests me takes place in the interval
between two people.
For example, one halfinch from your human body,
I can feel the heat of your life
without touching you.Nothing I learned in school
is as essential as that.
Or that the reverse is true.Or that, between grief and nothing,
there is a broad, bright space.
What happens to me alonenever seems important. Last week,
the dusk draped heavily
on the valley was beautiful, -
“Orange” and “South 2” by Michel Vachey (Translated from the French by S. C. Delaney and Agnès Potier)
ORANGE
Air France stewardesses are in danger
carmine strokes the dried blood near some petals slams into the sink of the crime now softly blazes on crimson curtains
pink only belongs to pink roses
why does orange gall us, revolt us, sicken our stomachs and our hearts to the point of despairing of a varnished and vanquished rage?
color that, henceforth, symbolizes most of all chemistry, which is the plastic reality of modern life beyond any philosophical and political concern,
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“The Adjunct Underclass by Herb Childress” Reviewed by Scott Wordsman
What was the adjunct? A dialectical approach to faculty contingency on America’s campuses
There are two distinct points of friction within American higher education, which, if thought about long enough, seem to feed off each other, and have, for decades, been rendering America’s campuses graveyards of critical thought. The first is the transformation of what was traditionally deemed a public good into a commodified entrance pass into the professional world. This, among other absurdities, begets the ubiquitous but what are you going to do with that? question from relatives who couldn’t fathom why anyone would pursue,
