I have wished you dead and myself dead. How could it be otherwise. I have broken into you like a burglar. And you've set your dogs on me. And a pile ….

I love the combination of smartness, pain, and what one might call conscious postmodern trashiness in this book: a version of the erotic full of nerv….

Art destroys silence..

The work of Jana Harris is unique in American writing. She has always had a voice of true grit—sometimes harsh, sometimes funny, always close to the ….

The writer who is a mother should, I think, record everything she can: make notes, keep journals, take photographs, use a tape recorder, and remind h….

Anyway, what is the soul but a dream of itself?.