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"When do-gooder Noor and frumpy home-schooled Jaycee find in Jaycee's luggage a cheese stuffed with drugs that she has unwittingly smuggled home from Peru, greed overcomes good instincts, and soon the unlikely pair are breaking bad in Vermont. Noor, a therapeutic riding instructor, and Jaycee, daughter of a plagiarizing children's book author who has insisted on raising her as though it's still 1860, discover that they have more than selling drugs in common, including Gerry Wilcox, a sexy slacker admirer of Noor's, recruited to find them a connection. Ugly secrets, including the truth about the death of a childhood friend, some outrageous revelations about Jaycee's increasingly enfeebled parents, and Noor's burgeoning doubts about her marriage and motherhood, come to light as Jaycee and Noor make tentative strides toward a less prickly, though still lopsided friendship. A road trip to Miami in pursuit of more drugs brings them face to face with their capacity for betrayal, and a caper becomes a calamity. Darkly comic and beautifully rendered, A WELL-MADE BED goes beyond the tropes of the buddy tale to explore just how easily each of us might step over the line from being a clean-nosed good citizen to being a felon."--

The Los Angeles Review is a literary journal of divergent literature with a West Coast emphasis. Established in 2003, LAR publishes both the stories of Los Angeles, endlessly varied, and those that grow outside our world of smog and glitter. LAR seeks voices with something wild in them, voices that know what it means to be alive, to be fallible, to be human.

Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, friends—they all get into the act in Michael Mirolla's Lessons in Relationship Dyads. Harsh lessons, sweet lessons, bitter lessons, faux lessons, —these are tales that probe not just the primary relationships all humans "enjoy" but also the relationships involved in the act of storytelling itself. These stories rise from fiction to metafiction without ever forgetting that the central beat, the central electrical pulse, in any tale must come from the heart.

In these poems are letters to a dead husband, Armenian, English/German ancestry, marriage, illness and death, recovery and the bloody spine of war, always war, with hard won wisdom, acceptance and protest.

A waking dream of rural Southern life centering on the struggle between good and evil, virtue and desperation.

A disillusioned office bureaucrat in the afterlife has come to realize that maybe heaven isn't all it's cracked up to be. Bored by the endless routine of work, golf, and vegan food, he finds his one saving grace in his Field Studies: detailed reports he compiles on the living in order to determine their best fit in his world. While working on his 62nd Field Study, he begins to fall for Tetty, a detached Basque-American beauty living in Nevada, while struggling to understand what she sees in Carmelo, a clumsy scholar obsessed with the elusive Basque culture. When people start going missing from heaven for no apparent reason, the narrator learns that Field Study 62 may hold the key to explaining the disappearances.

The Los Angeles Review is a literary journal of divergent literature with a West Coast emphasis. Established in 2003, LAR publishes both the stories of Los Angeles, endlessly varied, and those tht grow outside our world of smog and glitter. LAR seeks voices with something wild in them, voices that know what it means to be alive, to be fallible, to be human.

Sarah Wetzel's stunning second collection of poems, River Electric with Light, is a work of pilgrimage, a work in search of the sacred and the spiritually significant. Touching down in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Kabul, New York, and Rome, Wetzel's poems, ranging from lyric meditations to discursive drama, weave themselves from her life as wife, lover, stepmother, and traveler. She names the force propelling her River—"If I must choose a word for you, / let it be the word / for what flows," she writes. At times joyful, at times grief-ridden, Wetzel's poems accumulate associatively pulling slivers of secular solace from a world where violence infuses the body, the landscape, and even dreams, recognizing that while: "Our lives are always half over. / There's still time."

The Los Angeles Review is a literary journal of divergent literature with a West Coast emphasis. Established in 2003, LAR publishes both the stories of Los Angeles, endlessly varied, and those that grow outside our world of smog and glitter. LAR seeks voices with something wild in them, voices that know what it means to be alive, to be fallible, to be human.

"The thirteen stories in Chris Tarry's richly imagined debut, How to carry Bigfoot home, lay bare the insurmountable forces that determine who we are and who we become"--

"In the nearly twenty years that Leonard Koznowski has been sheriff of Beaver Rapids, Wisconsin, he's never encountered a homicide. When the local mortician and his assistant are brutally gunned down, Leonard is thrust into a tumultuous investigation linking religion, high school athletics, the black market of body parts, unwholesome sexual proclivities, and a sinister secret society. And with deer season fast approaching, the timing could've been a hell of a lot better. Inspired by actual events, acclaimed cult author Jim Knipfel gives a hilariously dark, satirical twist to the American pastoral."--

These seven short stories trace the childhood memories of a young boy, humorously nicknamed General Custer. The General, optimistic by nature and battered by circumstances, moves from Corvallis, Oregon, to the coastal town of Fairhaven, California. In this patchwork tarpaper town, on the north spit of Humboldt Bay, there are no phones, no indoor toilets, and with mostly absent parents, very few rules for rugged country kids. Tracing General Custer's intrepid spirit and ardent observations, Kids in the Wind brims with windy salt air, unimaginable adventure, embarrassing discoveries of young love, and a great deal of humor. As the stories unravel they lead you to that age-old-question-why grow up?

"Gaylord Brewer's ninth collection of poetry, Country of Ghost, is by turns harrowing, haunted, and darkly humorous, and always deeply felt. When the figure, Ghost, appears--crossing a bridge in Spain, beside a river of the dead in France, across a midnight lake in Finland--our speaker follows into a ravenous geography of longing and regret. In this astounding sequence of poems, who has summonsed whom? Brewer's folie a deux explores both the worlds of the living and of the dead, worlds alternately aching and tender, and of the spirits caught between them"--

"This Is Not a Skyscraper examines New York City through a surrealist lens. Like the title of Magritte's painting, "This is not a pipe," these poems question perceptions of the metropolis. While NYC entices talents that swarm its stages, museums, runways, and readings, throngs of outsiders live on the city's margins, silenced. Among the grotesqueries of corruption, an African immigrant is killed by police in a case of mistaken identity. His disembodied voice introduces the book. Many of these poems attempt to speak for the "others" existing on the peripheral, whose perspectives have been abandoned"--

Includes bibliographical note in back of book.

"Luba, an invented female consciousness, is someone who loves travel, astronomy, poetry, sex, among other varied interests. She has her private sorrows as well as high kicks and thrills. She's an imagined Colette Inez who is intellectual and sparkles with ever-changing ideas and images, sometimes bordering on the surreal. Luba's eloquent musings and demeanor jolt us from the wondrously ethereal into moments of actuality"--

"As a major hurricane threatens the northeast, math professor Gandalf Cohen is abducted by federal agents and flown to a secret interrogation center off the coast of Maine. Austin Coombs, a young local resident, is a newly hired civilian guard assigned to the detention center. Henry Ames, a man of personal secrets, is the FBI special agent in charge of Gandalf's case and doubts the professor's terrorist involvement; Tobias, his second-in-command, disagrees, preferring violent interrogation. As the hurricane slams the shore, conflict detonates and each character must choose a side if they're to survive the storm. Told over the five days approaching the anniversary of 9/11, by varying voices on both extremes of the political divide, On Hurricane Island is both a fast-paced political thriller and a literary examination of the sociopolitical storm facing our society. How far should government go in the name of protecting our national security? What happens when governmental powers of surveillance and extra-legal interrogation are expanded? How free are we? "--

"As a child Natalia goes fishing with her father, Walker, but spends more time humming songs than catching fish. When Walker comes upon Natalia sitting beside a stream, he hears her singing and asks what the music is. Natalia tells him that it's the music she hears in her dreams, music she wants to write and perform. So begins into the silence: the fishing story, America Hart's genre-bending, time-warping debut novel. Natalia does become an accomplished musician, but even with her father's encouragement, she struggles with her family-especially her younger sister Nadine-to be understood. She sets off on her own, dropping out of school and following Dan, a ballet dancer, to his new job in a new city. There, too, she encounters obstacles to her creative vision. Throughout her journey, Natalia and her father are visited by apparitions of Walker's mother, America, and his grandmother, Anastasia. Their stories are told through diaries found by Natalia and Nadine; reading them, the two sisters make surprising discoveries about their family's history. With echoes of Woolf and Burroughs, employing structures found more commonly in art music, into the silence weaves together voices and motives, past and present, into a haunting, polyphonic song of striking and original beauty"--

By turns elegiac, ecopoetic, and impolitic, Cynthia Hogue’s eighth collection, Revenance, is a condensery of empathic encounters with others and otherness. Hogue coins a word—from revenant, French for ‘ghost’—to consider questions of life and afterlife, and to characterize the ways in which the people and places we love return to us, and return us to ourselves, holding us to account. The poems of Revenance contain telling touchstone figures, like a guide named Blake who, noting signs of global warming, will speak of spirits but not angels; a man who dies and is brought back to life by the imaginative power of love; and a woman who can speak the language of endangered trees. While writing these poems, Hogue journeyed often across country to her familial roots in upstate New York in order to help care for her dying father. At last she began to record some of the many stories she heard of mysterious encounters and visitations, such as she herself was soon to witness, over several intensive years. Although grief silvers the threads of these poems, Hogue pares away the personal in order to be present to others in a fiercely engaged and innovative poetry.

The essays in Ruin link meditations on teaching, friendship, motherhood, love, the financial meltdown in Greece, the shared language of politics and advertising, Occupy Wall Street, and the Parthenon Marbles into a relentless interrogation of identity and loss. Kalfopoulou’s Athens and New York are twinned sites of perpetual dislocation, palimpsests of political, economic, cultural—and personal—crisis. The refugee, the immigrant, the fragmented ‘I’ charted in these essays—all are studies in exilic living, pilgrims wandering the wreckage of late capitalism.

Later the House Stood Empty mines personal and historical recollections of life on the banks of the Río de la Plata, charting a path lit by small fires of memory, weaving through time and history, to form a portrait of place and longing.

In her debut full-length poetry collection, Andrea Scarpino’s elegies move between personal and political loss, between science, myth, and spirituality, and between lyric intensity and narrative clarity. At their heart is a longing for those we have lost, and an acknowledgement that loss irrevocably changes us and what we understand of the world. Blending mythological figures such as Persephone and Achilles, scientific approaches to knowledge learned from her microbiologist father, and a deep ambivalence regarding religious ideas of death and afterlife, Scarpino’s poems invite us to examine the world, our own place in it, and what to make of its continual collapse.

Sea Salt, award-winning poet David Mason's first new collection of shorter poems in a decade, is a beautiful evocation of crisis and change.

The sixth collection of poetry by seriocomic master William Trowbridge, "one of America's best and wittiest poets" (Charles Harper Webb).

What Does a House Want? is a tongue in the ear and a red-hot needle to the conscience, full of poems in Gary Geddes's "brilliantly polished, cinematographic, white-knuckled style" (Montreal Gazette).

Susanna J. Mishler "pays meticulous attention to the elements of a ravishing, damaged, stern-but-fragile world; she uncovers real beauty in the linkages. And makes real beauty too" (Linda Gregerson).