Roll out your towel and kick back. Four new selections from the staff of the Sewanee Review.

To read Drury is to surrender to a slower, quieter timeline.

In a novel preoccupied with phantasms, hauntings, secrets, permeable boundaries, and alternative histories, who’s to say where the real starts and ends?

I don’t think we talk about personal loss—whether it’s the death of a loved one or something else—enough, and understandably so.

It’s been an especially exciting year for contributors of the Sewanee Review, and we are thrilled to highlight some of these remarkable achievements on behalf of our friends.

I can’t help but wonder at the fact that reliability itself has become novel.

Here's what the staff has been reading during these cold, rainy days of early spring.

New York City is a place where, if you don’t have a ton of money, it’s very, very hard to live, a place where the stratification of wealth is so evident, so I wanted to explore that through Nick’s experience.

I always imagined that there was some ineffable quality to the produce in Puerto Rico that made sure certain dishes never tasted the same away from the island.