Philip Graham is the author of seven books of fiction and nonfiction, his latest being The Moon, Come to Earth: Dispatches From Lisbon. He is a co-founder of the literary/arts journal Ninth Letter and currently serves as the nonfiction editor. He teaches creative writing at the University of Illinois and the Vermont College of Fine Arts, and he can also play every musical instrument in the world extremely well in his mind. His seres of short essays on the craft of writing can be read at philipgraham.net.
A year in Lisbon teaches you more than how to select a decent vinho verde. An ode to the uniquely hopeful, desperate music that’s missing from the usual American fare.
The White House has a secret that not even an Acme Ultimatum Dispatcher could eke out.
In a recent White House press conference, Karen Hughes, undersecretary of public diplomacy and public affairs, unveiled an exciting new chapter in the war on terror.
When two literary giants fall in one week, would-be writers may be concerned that their own publishing fortunes may be in danger. Though they may have lots to hide, they’ll have little to fear with these ever-popular products and services at their disposal.
These days, literary readings aren’t as boring as they should be. But what for the budding author or poet, still in school, who doesn’t know how to smash a guitar or bake a cobbler onstage?
After taking off on a top-secret Thanksgiving Day jaunt to Baghdad, President Bush appears to be on a mission to be the Badass-in-Chief. Or are there other motives at work? Our writer chases the paper trail.
Ahh, movie sequels: the perpetual bliss of knowing what happens next. But what if Hollywood runs out of old films for remakes, prequels, and crossovers? A plan that will save the movie industry.
The first Matrix was cool, but this new one needed a bit more work before they let it out of the gate. An open letter to the Wachowski brothers.
Major contributors to the Republican party may be getting pay-offs in the most unexpected ways. Philip Graham considers opening his checkbook with an idea that could save the free world and literature.
Is war the only option? Surely, there’s something else we can do? Something, perhaps, involving ghosts and baptism? A proposition you might not slam your door on.