Series
BY MARK WESTON LASKOWSKI
In the age of Reagan, I was one of those proudly raucous teens-aging-into-a-twenty-something who would have vamoosed the party—if not threatened to smash things up a bit—if someone had cued up a Depeche Mode track more than once.
BY MICHAEL B. TAGER
He turned. There was Basil, frowning, his thin hair plastered to his skull by rain. A vein threatened to burst on his forehead.
AN INTERVIEW with MICHELLE JUNOT
In My Big Little Break, we ask authors to talk about the first piece they ever had published, how it felt to finally break through, and what they’ve learned since then. This week, writer Michelle Junot answers.
BY JOY LAZENDORFER
There’s one surefire way to bond with other literary people, and that’s to quote poetry at them.
I loved Portland and its people because they seemed irritated with their city and were poised to either move away, or toss their hunk of overripe fruit in the compost garbage can found on every green, mossy, deep-puddled street corner.
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