Over the last two decades, Guernica has gifted us—writers, readers and engaged thinkers—space to see ourselves more fully—through the imaginations, experiences and reflections of folks who often serve as fodder for gripping news headlines, but who aren’t often enough the architects of how those very stories unfold. This matters. We cannot imagine, much less live, our way into a more egalitarian world, without expanding our center to include the marginalized. And in a world of sharp political polarity and cynical disinformation, Guernica’s work isn’t only critical intellectual engagement, it b ..read more

Guernica magazine was founded twenty years ago with a mission to confront power with counter narrative. A literary space of dissent that, in the words of George Saunders, “respects the life of the mind with an intensity rarely seen these days,” Guernica is a global community of writers and artists forged through and around the pages of a haven for political writing.   Guernica is oriented towards the margins and drawn to the expansive imaginations that emerge from relentless exclusion. We are not driven by the news cycle, but instead constantly seek to excavate the narratives upholding s ..read more

Photo by Sérgio Alves Santos on Unsplash We were the three of us in bed together, the Palm Tree Wholesaler and the Division-I High Jumper and me. The High Jumper slept in the middle and on his side, his back facing me and his left leg thrown over the legs of the Palm Tree Wholesaler, who released long, grunting snores in choppy blasts. This snoring seemed a conscious labor, an object of severe but frustrated focus. The athlete’s breathing was nimble in comparison to his lover’s, and together the two sounded like unfamiliar animals getting acquainted in a black wilderness. I had not asked what ..read more

Courtesy of the author Much of Grace Loh Prasad’s needed debut, The Translator’s Daughter, is about the aftermath of a choice she didn’t make. When she was only two years old, her parents fled dictatorship in Taiwan. She grows up in the United States, where a fluency with pop culture is more important than any working understanding of her parents’ native language. But things changed, quickly and unexpectedly when her mother is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, forcing her to confront the fragility of the bonds that tie her to her heritage. This unpublished piece of Prasad’s memoir happens in between ..read more

Photo by Nothing Ahead / Pexels Listen: Your browser does not support the audio element.Click here for the mp3. I’ll tell them their grandfather must have lived in a tall building discreetly adorned with black and white photographs books without folded pages underlined sharply and hardy plants placed evenly in front of a sea that half the time cannot be seen through the mist. That didn’t make him sad beyond measure, because his shining hazel eyes left home only on weekends. I’ll tell them that we lived together in Barcelona like teenagers when we were pushed to grow up, that we slept in expens ..read more

Glove of Edward Barrett Moulton-Barrett with wrapping inscribed by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. From the Berg Collection, New York Public Library. Photo by Laura McNeal. It’s hard to imagine history more irresistibly told than it is in The Swan’s Nest, Laura. McNeal’s novel about the love affair between two giants of nineteenth century poetry, Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett. Its contours are, surely, familiar to many — or at least, the letters between them, whose first object of love was verse. McNeal brings us inside their love and lives with a daring imagined intimacy. Or at least, I d ..read more

Photo by Ryunosuke Kikuno / Unsplash The tree lost its mythical powers, horses huddled at the edge of the earth. The sniping light turned cold, winter came, we continued, faces sealed. Only at night did we sit down with our own names. It was my auntie Sheila who taught me the importance of reaching out to others, of lending a hand when needed. Widowed early, she was a feisty lady who helped out in hospitals and hospices in the coastal town of Blackpool, where she lived. Auntie Sheila volunteered for years in the Citizens’ Advice Bureau, holding a warm and comforting hand out to/for people of a ..read more

Photo by Josep Martins / Unsplash From afar, I was seen practicing agony. I am told I am good at it. Like plastic that flung itself into a fire, I think I am weeping ..read more

Photo by Cassiano Psomas / Unsplash “Not being devoured is the secret goal of an entire life.” — Clarice Lispector, The Smallest Woman in the World The next to be born was quite small, about the size of a sweet potato. The midwife said nothing to the mother at first but, upon leaving the room, warned her that the girl might not survive. No one seemed particularly concerned; after all, if she lived, it would be one more mouth to feed. Later, looking her over more carefully in the morning sun, the mother, too, suspected that the girl wasn’t going to thrive. The lion’s share of milk from her shri ..read more

Photo by Chantal & Ole / Unsplash died so I looked online and couldn’t believe the price for a new noise, so I bought a secondhand noise, deliverable and like new. The noise arrived on my windowsill the next day in a box wrapped with too much tape. I tore each layer of the sticky plastic like unwrapping a bandage. The noise was delicate as a small glass of steam and ash. The thing I liked most about the secondhand noise was how much it deepened the sensation of walking through the house with a newfound breeze. But I didn’t know how loud my noise was. I was breathing like snoring while awak ..read more