Things | Rekindle

Elena Ferrante and Me: An Irrational Essay

“I felt betrayed. Not because she was no longer anonymous; I had never cared about that. But because she is not Elena.”

The day before an earthquake I spent five delirious hours in the Naples airport. I spent ten minutes outside smoking a cigarette. I thought: This place is pale yellow and has unusual palm trees. It had tropicality with European gravity. There was a blue-lavender volcano that I could not see.

TheNew York Times

Harlan County, U.S.A.

TheNew York Review of Books,

Saturday Night Fever

Young God

The Story of a New Name. 

My Brilliant Friend

The Blue Fairy

The Story of the Lost Child,

News From Home

Those Who Leave and Those Who StayTheNew York Times