Issue 147
Winter & Spring 2015
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Issue 147 opens with Claudia Rankine and John Lucas's video essay "Situation 7." Here Rankine's words and Lucas's images combine to transform an everyday occurence, in this case a bus ride, into a singular and emotionally charged experience. "What does suspicion do?" Rankine asks. Wariness, distrust, and confusion haunt the work in 147. Our authors examine displacement, self-perception, and authenticity, and their discoveries reverberate throughout the issue.
With 147 we welcome a new poetry editor, Dane Hamann, who's curated a variety of talented poets. In addition to the distinguished fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and cinepoetry, we're also pleased to present a selection of paintings by Chicago artist and writer Dmitry Samarov. Our technical advisors have enhanced the website's functionality and appearance. We invite you to come in from the cold and spend some time with TriQuarterly.
Cheers,
Adrienne Gunn
Managing Editor: Adrienne Gunn
Assistant Managing Editor: Noelle Havens
Faculty Advisor: Susan Harris
Director of Planning: Reginald Gibbons
Film Editor: John Bresland
Fiction Editors: Carrie Muehle, Dan Schuld, Ankur Thakkar, Stephanie Tran
Nonfiction Editor: Karen Zemanick
Poetry Editor: Dane Hamann
Social Media Editor: Ankur Thakkar
Copy Editor: Lys Ann Weiss
Media Architect: Harlan Wallach
Technical Advisors: Alex Miner, Rodolfo Vieira, Nick Gertonson
Staff: Ahsan Awan, Rebecca Bald, Emily Barton, Jen Companik, Jim Davis, JL Deher-Lesaint, Aaron DeLee, Jesse Eagle, Jeshua Enriquez, Dan Fliegel, Ish Harris-Wolff, Alex Higley, Martha Holloway, Barbara Tsai Jones, Katharine Kruse, Jen Lawrence, Adam Lizakowski, Robin Morrissey, Marina Mularz, Troy Parks, Miyako Pleines, C. Russell Price, Lydia Pudzianowski, Nate Renie, Mark Rentfro, Paula Root, Caitlin Sellnow, Michi Smith, Adam Talaski, Myra Thompson, Ted Wesenberg, Carol Zsolnay
Image from Situation 7
On the Moon
Florence thinks she hears the doorbell while watching Wheel of Fortune. She goes to greet her visitor, but there’s no one, just the white glare of her empty driveway and the drone of mowers pushed by shirtless teenage boys. Florence closes her door slowly. She never feels lonely, except when she expects to see another person and doesn’t.