Abbigail Rosewood Abbigail Rosewood

The Cleaving: Vietnamese Writers in the Diaspora

The first and only book to gather the voices and perspectives of Vietnamese diasporic authors from across the globe.

Writing Feminism and Disobedience 
Hoai Huong Aubert-Nguyen and Vaan Nguyen 
Abbigail Nguyen Rosewood and Violet Kupersmith 
Thi Bui and Thảo Nguyễn 
Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai and Hoa Nguyen 

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Abbigail Rosewood Abbigail Rosewood

TOC Community Cookbook

In the spirit of the classic community cookbooks assembled by churches, PTAs, families, and charities, the Tables of Contents Community Cookbook is a collection of personal recipes and brief reflections on food from 36 contemporary poets, essayists and fiction writers.

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Abbigail Rosewood Abbigail Rosewood

Had One Thing Changed

The joy of love is often coupled with the fear of loss. Here, novelist Abbigail Nguyen Rosewood recalls how anxiety before her wedding returned her to the impermanence of life, to its multiple pathways and infinite realities, as explored in her new book, The Constellations of Eve.

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Abbigail Rosewood Abbigail Rosewood

TBLR Vol. 4: This Peculiar Radiant Landscape: The Climate Issue

Featuring new work by Elinam Agbo, Keyan Bowes, Omar El Akkad, Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto, Amanda Kallis, Heidi Kaloustian, Joan Naviyuk Kane, Caroline Kim, Liu Daohang, Melissa Mogollon, Abbigail Rosewood, Francis Santana, Casey A. Williams, and Olga Zilberbourg. Photography by Nate Kauffman.

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Julie Trelstad Julie Trelstad

A Girl Is Grown Like a Poem Is Grown

A flash fiction piece explores the intriguing process by which a girl “becomes,” how she is simultaneously “made and unmade” by the experiences and influences which surround her.

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Julie Trelstad Julie Trelstad

Dead Jasmine

My mother worked to pay my nanny, who laundered, cooked, and put me to bed, but it was a male omniscience I prayed to, his masculine benediction I longed for.

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Julie Trelstad Julie Trelstad

Allendy Is Free

Then when the house caught on fire and going back only meant standing on a bed of ash and wet grass, we began to transform every place we lived in into our childhood home.

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Julie Trelstad Julie Trelstad

Outside

The first time I saw them, more than a decade ago now, they were standing in a circle behind the sun’s shadow. Even from a distance, I could tell they would tower over me, their chins several inches above my head, a mathematical difference in perspective. In their fists, beer, a baseball, throw darts, something crumbling.

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