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Scott Esposito

Scott Esposito is the co-author of The End of Oulipo? (with Lauren Elkin; Zero Books, 2013). His writing has appeared recently in Music & Literature, Drunken Boat, and The Point. His criticism appears frequently in the Times Literary Supplement, the San Francisco Chronicle, and The Washington Post.



Articles Available Online


The Last Redoubt

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November 2014

Scott Esposito

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November 2014

As they say of politics, I have found essay-writing to be the art of the possible. Certain work can only be done in those...

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February 2014

Another Way of Thinking

Scott Esposito

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February 2014

I. There is no substitute for that moment when a book places into our mind thoughts we recognise as our...

Begin with a man on the beach The sea is strangely iridescent, lighter in its lights and blacker in shadow than it seems as if it could be As for the sand, it’s plausibly sandy, but on the fine end, like a powder, and so pale that it’s only just possible to say that it isn’t white But as the man walks along, with the ocean to his left and the salty black hills far away ahead of him, the powdery sand imperceptibly changes to coarser sand, and the coarser sand to tiny pebbles, and the tiny pebbles to larger pebbles, and then, all the way north by the feet of the hills, where the sky is black, too, where you can see deep into its emptiness, the man, abashed, looks down and notices that he is standing on perfectly smooth round stones   Most of the stones are difficult, beautiful colours, profound shades of indigo that hover at the very threshold of the eye’s ability to distinguish Some of them are elegant greys, with edges as hard to make out as a thin cloud in the early dawn Here and there are a few clear yellows, an occasional newt red, and one or two of gold And one—one in particular that sits about eighteen inches from the toe of the man’s left boot—is a violet so deep and otherworldly that simply seeing it could make you gasp To really look at it would surely make your eyes tear   The man’s eyes tear He bends from the waist like a dancer or, it might be more precise to say, like an adjustable floor lamp with only one joint The violet stone isn’t simply beautiful It has a shape of uneasy perfection and a glassy, reflective finish, as if someone had varnished it But mere beauty is cheap What makes the stone important is that its colour can’t be remembered   The man tests himself against the stone, or the stone against himself He holds it close in front of his nose against different backgrounds: the other stones; the mountains; the deep

Contributor

August 2014

Scott Esposito

Contributor

August 2014

Scott Esposito is the co-author of The End of Oulipo? (with Lauren Elkin; Zero Books, 2013). His writing has...

Negation: A Response to Lars Iyer's 'Nude in Your Hot Tub'

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September 2012

Scott Esposito

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September 2012

I do not know whether I have anything to say, I know that I am saying nothing; I do not know if what I...
Art's Fading Sway: Russian Ark by Aleksandr Sokurov

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May 2012

Scott Esposito

Art

May 2012

I have often fallen asleep in small theatres. It is an embarrassing thing to have happen during one-man shows, and I am certain that...

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poetry

May 2015

Europe

Kirill Medvedev

TR. Keith Gessen

poetry

May 2015

I’m riding the bus with a group of athletes from some provincial town they’re going to a competition in...

Prize Entry

April 2016

Mute Canticle

Leon Craig

Prize Entry

April 2016

Giulio the singing fascist came to pick me up from the little airport in his Jeep. He made sure...

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September 2015

Immigrant Freedoms

Benjamin Markovits

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September 2015

My grandmother, known to us all as Mutti, caught one of the last trains out of Gotenhafen before the...

 

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