There’s no shame in loving durian at this New York City haven.

By Hannah Bae
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Interviews

“The process of writing a novel can sound cohesive and tidy. At the time it feels much more like walking around in a very dark and very cluttered room, moving slowly, hoping you’ll run into something like an intention instead of a sharp object, or more often, a wall.”

These four writers will spend the year crafting reversible poems of migration; bridging immigration, love and violence in fiction; chronicling a survivor’s journey through fragmentation; and telling a family history of sovereignty and colonialism.

Essays

To fix myself, it seems, is to become a ghost of myself.

Essays

Fearing the fruit cutting expectations of Korean mother-in-laws

Essays

When they called me spoiled, they meant that I was a rotten fruit, left out to waste in the humidity, sullied by forces beyond their control.

Essays

The kumquat’s sweetness was a disguise, and once it was disrobed in your mouth, the meat inside was sour enough to make your mouth buck, to wring your tongue of its language.

Essays

Who would keep the tree living, years after my grandparents have passed?

Essays

As a historian and musician, Julian Saporiti has toured past and present sites of migrant detention. He calls his project No-No Boy.

Essays

John Okada deserves credit for framing his book around the character of a resister—but he missed the opportunity to portray the depth and breadth of principled protest by incarcerated Japanese Americans.

Essays

In 2019, No-No Boy is bigger than it’s ever been. But the book that was saved was always haunted by the books that were lost.

Essays

“Giving women voice” does not necessarily mean they will be heard or believed. From feminist refusal in Chang-Rae Lee’s A Gesture Life to the quiet resistance of comfort women statues.

Poetry

i say “i don’t need a man” and it’s true/ but flowers. the flowers how i love the flowers / before they drown inside out / from their own perfume.

Marginalia

The first time I had a mangosteen, at a night market in Shanghai, my aunt taught me to open it by pressing my thumbs in and pulling it apart. It was absolutely eerie–it split down the middle and opened like an eye.

Essays

Sometimes, I only want to eat the skin.

Essays

What a royal feeling to look into that bag and imagine something new on my tongue on a day like that.

Essays

I wondered how many cherries babies could eat, and what they might think of the taste, or if they just know that the sugar tasted good.

Essays

Pauline Park, Myles Markham, and Xoài Pham on the queer historical figures across Asia that have inspired in them a sense of belonging

Essays

Earlier this year, Penguin released a competing edition of John Okada’s 1957 novel No-No Boy, claiming that it was in the public domain. They didn’t grasp how the history of the novel’s publication is as important as the novel.

Poetry

when i was six, / i scooped prayer into my palms, sipped / jesus’ sweat out of a soju bottle ten / years after. the prayer screamed / under my skin

Poetry

Don’t you know my face? Didn’t you / break it open? Being beautiful, it’s no crime.

Interviews

“The process of writing a novel can sound cohesive and tidy. At the time it feels much more like walking around in a very dark and very cluttered room, moving slowly, hoping you’ll run into something like an intention instead of a sharp object, or more often, a wall.”

Essays

“Giving women voice” does not necessarily mean they will be heard or believed. From feminist refusal in Chang-Rae Lee’s A Gesture Life to the quiet resistance of comfort women statues.

These four writers will spend the year crafting reversible poems of migration; bridging immigration, love and violence in fiction; chronicling a survivor’s journey through fragmentation; and telling a family history of sovereignty and colonialism.

Poetry

i say “i don’t need a man” and it’s true/ but flowers. the flowers how i love the flowers / before they drown inside out / from their own perfume.

Essays

To fix myself, it seems, is to become a ghost of myself.

Marginalia

The first time I had a mangosteen, at a night market in Shanghai, my aunt taught me to open it by pressing my thumbs in and pulling it apart. It was absolutely eerie–it split down the middle and opened like an eye.

Essays

Fearing the fruit cutting expectations of Korean mother-in-laws

Essays

Sometimes, I only want to eat the skin.

Essays

When they called me spoiled, they meant that I was a rotten fruit, left out to waste in the humidity, sullied by forces beyond their control.

Essays

What a royal feeling to look into that bag and imagine something new on my tongue on a day like that.

Essays

The kumquat’s sweetness was a disguise, and once it was disrobed in your mouth, the meat inside was sour enough to make your mouth buck, to wring your tongue of its language.

Essays

I wondered how many cherries babies could eat, and what they might think of the taste, or if they just know that the sugar tasted good.

Essays

Who would keep the tree living, years after my grandparents have passed?

Essays

Pauline Park, Myles Markham, and Xoài Pham on the queer historical figures across Asia that have inspired in them a sense of belonging

Essays

As a historian and musician, Julian Saporiti has toured past and present sites of migrant detention. He calls his project No-No Boy.

Essays

Earlier this year, Penguin released a competing edition of John Okada’s 1957 novel No-No Boy, claiming that it was in the public domain. They didn’t grasp how the history of the novel’s publication is as important as the novel.

Essays

John Okada deserves credit for framing his book around the character of a resister—but he missed the opportunity to portray the depth and breadth of principled protest by incarcerated Japanese Americans.

Poetry

when i was six, / i scooped prayer into my palms, sipped / jesus’ sweat out of a soju bottle ten / years after. the prayer screamed / under my skin

Essays

In 2019, No-No Boy is bigger than it’s ever been. But the book that was saved was always haunted by the books that were lost.

Poetry

Don’t you know my face? Didn’t you / break it open? Being beautiful, it’s no crime.