Paul Strohm, former Garbedian Professor of the Humanities at Columbia University, has written quite a few scholarly books, but he’s recently ventured into writing a memoir of 100 100 word stories. His stories have appeared in Eleven Eleven and served as the flash point for this...
By Paul Strohm
Claire has been wanting a full-length mirror in our New York apartment. How come, I want to know. You can look at your top half in the bathroom and you see your feet any time in the shoestore.
By Paul Strohm
For those who didn't know his primary work, this volume's accompanying illustrations reveal Lou Beach as a collage-maker and graphic surrealist, an accomplished maestro of dream-like juxtapositions and mixed surface-depth relations.
Paul Strohm has taken a different approach to memoir. Instead of writing the confessional tell-all in a conventional narrative, he spins the tale of his life through 100 100-word stories.
By Paul Strohm My former dog reproached me in a dream. She was named Katrina, a spayed dachshund with a fat tummy. I had wanted a beagle and my parents told me a dachshund was a beagle with shorter legs.
By Paul Strohm At the committee meeting, someone suggested sneaking a look at an internal candidate’s teaching evaluations. No way, I said. Why not, they asked.
By Paul Strohm My uncle Earl was a red-complected, hoarse-voiced, high-degree mason, a terror to my gentle Aunt Pauline in his wintertime alcoholic backslidings.
By Paul Strohm
My friend’s wife had a husky voice and a cute sideways look. She used to read literature out loud to convicts in the local jail. She was reading to her favorite prisoner when he whispered that he had cut the pockets out of his trousers.