Above ground, we notice the trunk, the branches, the leaves, the fruit. Below ground, the roots are doing quieter work: growing into darkness, responding to gravity, creating the strength that makes everything visible possible. This article explores that idea through writing: the private work, discarded pages, questions, stream-of-consciousness writing, and all the thoughts that happen before a finished piece ever reaches another reader.
Canadian poet, essayist and translator Anne Carson has won the 2026 Nobel Prize in Literature. The announcement celebrates a writer whose work continues to expand the possibilities of literature, moving between poetry, prose, translation and visual art.
Uncle Dave had come upstairs to get my dad. There was much more drinking to be had, and to be fair to Dave (not really an uncle), my dad did have a habit of falling asleep in my room while his night was still young.
Lottie cried. She was not the one who usually cried. Evelyn was the one most often cradled in Beabea’s lap, gently
rocking back and forth while Beabea stroked her back.
here is a church in Barcelona
That has been under construction for a hundred years
And I wonder if it is still holy
In its incompletion
Here, in this Catholic hospital, with its crucifix
décor and daily contemplation, sparks kiss your temples
and your tongue is tied to the tunes of Mass.
Thatcher was, by all accounts and sufferings of everyone who knew him, a genius. On the day he was to write the greatest novel in all eternity…
Do you remember that late afternoon when I saw you across the room? I do, you called to me from the Toronto motorcycle trade show floor with your lights and dashing flames.
El’s house, like her, sat on the fringes of a polite community. Where the town ended and the fields began, a few houses, including El’s, barely remembered how to belong.