59 Books Like Micrograms

After writing two expansive novels—The Edge of the World, about lives spanning six decades, and Liberty Landing, a contemporary novel rooted in the arc of American history—I found myself drawn to something smaller. Not smaller in meaning or scope, but in form. I wanted to experiment with the art of compression in storytelling. I was inspired by a microfiction written by novelist Joyce Carol Oates—The Widow’s First Year, which reads: “I kept myself alive.” Eight words. A complete universe of sorrow, endurance, resilience, and time. It stunned me. As I began to write Small Worlds, I was compelled to study fast fiction with the sharpest forensic tools.

After writing two expansive novels—The Edge of the World, about lives spanning six decades, and Liberty Landing, a contemporary novel rooted in the arc of American history—I found myself drawn to something smaller. Not smaller in meaning or scope, but in form. I wanted to experiment with the art of compression in storytelling. I was inspired by a microfiction written by novelist Joyce Carol Oates—The Widow’s First Year, which reads: “I kept myself alive.” Eight words. A complete universe of sorrow, endurance, resilience, and time. It stunned me. As I began to write Small Worlds, I was compelled to study fast fiction with the sharpest forensic tools.

After writing two expansive novels—The Edge of the World, about lives spanning six decades, and Liberty Landing, a contemporary novel rooted in the arc of American history—I found myself drawn to something smaller. Not smaller in meaning or scope, but in form. I wanted to experiment with the art of compression in storytelling. I was inspired by a microfiction written by novelist Joyce Carol Oates—The Widow’s First Year, which reads: “I kept myself alive.” Eight words. A complete universe of sorrow, endurance, resilience, and time. It stunned me. As I began to write Small Worlds, I was compelled to study fast fiction with the sharpest forensic tools.

After writing two expansive novels—The Edge of the World, about lives spanning six decades, and Liberty Landing, a contemporary novel rooted in the arc of American history—I found myself drawn to something smaller. Not smaller in meaning or scope, but in form. I wanted to experiment with the art of compression in storytelling. I was inspired by a microfiction written by novelist Joyce Carol Oates—The Widow’s First Year, which reads: “I kept myself alive.” Eight words. A complete universe of sorrow, endurance, resilience, and time. It stunned me. As I began to write Small Worlds, I was compelled to study fast fiction with the sharpest forensic tools.

Certain books have the ability to inspire you or help you go beyond the boundaries of your understanding, to teach you something new or to show you how to look at things differently, to alter and enhance your perception. Each of these texts have encouraged and enchanted me, with hard-won truths. I appreciate the style of writing which draws you further and further into the author's psyche, and thus into your own, like deep diving into uncharted depths. Also, as someone who tries to write poetry and prose, I find each of these writers have a refreshing and interesting technique and method of communicating their thoughts and ideas.

I have published 18 books of poetry, most recently the one I have listed here, as well as a collection of literary essays, Fables of Representation. My emphasis has always been on the more progressive and risk-taking kinds of expression, as seen with the Beat poets, Ginsberg and Corso, and the New York School poets, Ashbery and O'Hara. Seeing a lack of that perspective on bookshelves, I edited two editions of a major anthology, Postmodern American Poetry: A Norton Anthology, and 42 issues of the literary magazine, New American Writing. I have been reading, more recently, a lot of great writing by women, especially those writing at length, with the volume up. 

I have written stage and radio plays, poetry, short story collections, and, beginning in 2013, novels that comprise The American Novels series, published by Bellevue Literary Press. Unlike historical fiction, these works reimagine the American past to account for faults that persist to the present day: the wish to dominate and annex, the will to succeed in every department of life regardless of cost, and the stain of injustice and intolerance. In order to escape the gravity of an authorial self, I address present dangers and follies through the lens of our nineteenth-century literature and in a narrative voice quite different from my own.

Born to a Tibetan mother and an American father, I was raised in the U.S. As a girl, I wondered why things were always changing: the seasons, people, and places I loved. Growing older, I became fascinated with how to find happiness in a world where nothing lasts forever. After college, I lived in India with my Tibetan grandmother, learning about Buddhist “bardo” perspectives on life’s ephemerality. I realized that though we resist change, accepting impermanence allows us to live happier lives. I publish widely on impermanence and host a Tricycle interview series about bardo, with guests including David Sedaris, Elizabeth Gilbert, Malcolm Gladwell, Ann Patchett, and Dani Shapiro.

Hello, I write poems, lots of them, and also lots of books about Christianity. I grew up in London and lived for my first thirteen years deep within myself, in a kind of fog that prevented anyone from knowing me, including myself. Then, one day, when I was thirteen, in the middle of a math class, everything changed for me. I entered a wholly new world. I went from being at the bottom of the class to the top of the class; I started publishing poems. I started a quest to find myself anew, cutting through the fog, and that quest ended with me teaching Divinity at Duke University. 

I’ve loved words from the moment I met them. I wrote my first poem when I was eight years old and haven’t stopped yet! As a children’s book author, I love incorporating rhyme, poetry, or lyrical prose in the stories I write. I was a shy kid and often felt like my poetry wasn’t “good enough.” It is my goal to get kids excited about all forms of poetry and I want them to know that they can be poets if they want to and that writing, reading, and sharing poetry is fun and rewarding.