New Partisan

Motel Art Improvement Service-A Serial Graphic Novel

Jason Little — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 15:34:26 +0000

New Partisan is proud to serialize Jason Little’s graphic novel in progress, Motel Art Improvement Service, a crackling good story that’s somewhere about the border of Hergé and Clowes.

Click the picture to read from the start, or here for the latest installment.

Warning: Not necessarily work safe.

Death in Jersey—The State Against Modern Medicine

Jonathan Leaf — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 19:33:34 +0000

If an emergency physician encountered a patient in cardiac arrest, he’d “shock” him and bring him back to life. Presented with the same situation, the state would have a meeting. Then, when the body began to smell, they would have another meeting. Finally, they would dump the body. It was the nature of the state to be bureaucratic. There was nothing more to it than that.

Partisan Video—James

A.R. Brook Lynn — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 19:43:57 +0000

This week’s video feature, by New Partisan regular A.R. Brook Lynn, is a short film about a cash-strapped Greenwich Village mother, Becky (NP contributor Hala Lettieri), and her six-and-a-half-year old daughter, Charlotte (Samantha Becker), on a trip to see her estranged husband, James (Salvatore Interlandi, writer and director of the widely acclaimed Charlie), and try to collect child support. James also features Angela Pietropinto (Welcome to the Dollhouse), and a cameo by New Partisan editor-in-chief Harry Siegel as the mental patient some say he was born to play.

Old Money

Lincoln MacVeagh — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 03:01:14 +0000

New Partisan is proud to present Lincoln MacVeagh’s now complete serial novel, Old Money, a dark satire in the manner of Evelyn Waugh and Dawn Powell:

“Look Dante, the question I’m getting at is this: Do you love commercial real estate? I don’t think you do.”

“Does anyone love commercial real estate?” asked Dante.

“I should hope so.”

“Do you love it?”

Mr. Bullard answered carefully. “I like it a lot.”

“Then you don’t love it?”

“No, but I care about it. I care deeply about it.”

Mr. Bullard folded his arms across his chest as if daring Dante to disbelieve him. Dante was genuinely puzzled. He hadn’t anticipated this discussion and he stared at Mr. Bullard trying to imagine what it meant to care deeply about commercial real estate.

There was an embarrassing silence before Dante realized where the conversation was headed:

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Happily Never After, or, The Rubbish Tower

Robert Latona — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 13:15:02 +0000

“I want to say something to you or write something about you that would be as beautiful in itself as the life I would have led with you had you loved me.” —Paul Potts in Dante Called You Beatrice.

A Play at Contrition

Adam Chimera — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 02:45:56 +0000

His hands were in the belly pockets of the coat and as he drew close I noticed that he had a lazy eye. I don’t like to categorize people on the basis of their looks, but this man was a perfect rendering of a pulp novel hustler, appearing dangerous not so much for what he could do physically but, rather, morally.

Losing Evangelicals

Caroline Mello — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 15:35:07 +0000

After six years of a fellow evangelical in the White House, many no longer take it as a given that the Republican Party and its candidates are in step with Christian values. Mark Foley’s dalliances with pages may be the shorthand for the general discontent, but it’s Jack Abramoff, Bob Ney and Tom Delay, too.

State-By-State Breakdowns-Governorships

Brian Morreale — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 06:10:00 +0000

As of today, Democrats are favored to pick up six governor’s seats.

State-By-State Breakdowns-The Senate

Brian Morreale — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 05:52:10 +0000

As of today, Democrats are favored to pick up six seats, just enough to win the Senate.

Pataki and the Incumbocrats

Harry Siegel — Mon, 23 Oct 2006 14:55:27 +0000

Upstate’s declining population of increasingly elderly and poor remaining residents are no longer consistent conservatives. While Pataki, like Cuomo, has overseen this decline, he’s also clinging to the back of the demographic leviathan.

For David Walley

J.E. D'Ulisse — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 14:50:47 +0000

Like a boxer, he was light on his feet, he hit from the center of his weight outward, and you didn’t know where it was gonna come from, but it always connected.

Bill Travis' New York

Robert Nowel — Tue, 05 Sep 2006 17:30:10 +0000

Flip through Weegee’s photos to see the city’s violent underbelly, or Berenice Abbott’s for razor-sharp views of the city’s canyons. Look to Michael Wesely for ghostlike, long-term exposures. When I look at Bill Travis’s work, I see something different and the closest parallels I can find are with photographs over a hundred years old.

The Cortelyou Project

Amber Scoon — Fri, 30 Jun 2006 08:15:53 +0000

Amber Scoon's Cortelyou Project, a series of paintings of what the 2000 census found to be America's most integrated neighborhod.

"Hemingway.... That Shit!" Reconsidering The Sun Also Rises

John Bruce — Fri, 23 Jun 2006 21:38:39 +0000

I must have studied that novel in at least two classes as an undergraduate. In fact, looking at my beat-up copy from back then, I have a sinking feeling that I even had to teach it one year in freshman comp. That was when I had to go over it carefully enough to explain to students what was good about it, and I always had the nagging suspicion that whatever it was, I’d missed it.

(Not) Dreaming of Taras

Yevgeniya Traps — Thu, 15 Jun 2006 20:25:10 +0000

I think of Taras because he loved me when it was easy to love me.

I wore my hair in two braids, a thin whippet of a smiling girl, not unlike a very young Therese: her smooth brow, her lovely cheekbone, her innocent abandon, the pretty white shirt collar, her little ankle socks.

I am no longer that. But what is Taras? I project him on the walls of my memory, a voyeuristic image, a dried rose hung upside down in the attic, stripped of meaning, withered. I do not any longer know what he is or where he is or how he is.

I think of him but I do not dream of him.

But I dream of Kiev.