April 2026 | The Common

All posts tagged: April 2026

Book Review: Exemplary Humans

April 21, 2026 Reviews

By JULIANA LEITE
Translated by ZOË PERRY

In the opening chapter of this subtle epic, the centenarian narrator Natalia confides: “At this point in life, I’d say that going on forever or for too long is a bad decision, a very bad one; what’s nice is to exist and then stop existing, to exist for a while and then be able to change the subject.” In other words, if the transition between life and death is an abrupt one, then so be it. “[L]et’s be done with it,” she says, “though it would be nice to have the time to spritz on some perfume beforehand.”

When I first encountered this sentiment in Juliana Leite’s Exemplary Humans, translated from the Portuguese by Zoë Perry, I took it be a bit of a bluff. It reminded me of a bumper sticker I saw a couple of years ago in Portland, Oregon, that read: “I ♥ AGING & DYING” (which I interpreted as an existentialist rejoinder to proclamations of commercial allegiance—“I ♥ Mr Plywood” and so on—so common in my hometown). But by the end of Leite’s novel, which takes place primarily in Rio de Janeiro and Petrópolis, Brazil, and spans that country’s lengthy dictatorship, I was convinced that Natalia’s breezy acceptance of her own mortality was absolutely serious. It is not only possible, but strongly advised to love aging and dying. It isn’t easy, though. To transcend dread, and transform it into something more palatable, a unique kind of emotional intelligence is required, and so is a talent for adjusting one’s perspectives. Natalia is the novel’s exemplar of both these qualities.

What We’re Reading: April 2026

April 17, 2026 Reviews

Curated by KEI LIM

This month, JULIET MCSHANNON, RO SKELTON, and TERESE SVOBODA review books that center personal and political hardships. They carefully consider the responsibility and care of writing about real people, the act of research in representation, and how writing can function as an agent of change.

The Constancy of Ocean Sounds

April 15, 2026 Dispatches

By JOHN T. HOWARDNew Harbor, Maine

From the porch of the cabin, we can see the waters off Maine’s Midcoast region down below, the audible crash of waves constant. We can also hear the dunting of the bell buoy, and, through a wispy cover of fog, we can see the spectral presence of certain small islands and headlands in closer waters. The fog, further out, is thick enough to make the furthest remnants of land invisible. A second thought: the closer strips look as if they are cut from age-faded pieces of colored paper once the color of blue. Beyond these blanched scraps of an atomic hue, I look through the deep stretch of fog and think stone and wood, think bone and sinew. Far from here, there are wars raging. Bombs being dropped, civilians dead, dying. Government as we expect it to function is dismantling. Or being dismantled. I peer even further into that stretch of nothingness and contemplate the recent departure of my father, my mother, my brother the day before. All of these familial connections with their complicated histories, long arms of trauma stretching back decades, well before my first year in this cabin in Maine three years ago.

Searching for Meaning: Chukwuebuka Ibeh interviews David Emeka

April 13, 2026 Interviews

DAVID EMEKA and CHUKWUEBUKA IBEH first connected in 2020, after Emeka read Ibeh’s Gerald Kraak-shortlisted story, The Ache of Longing. Emeka had raved about it to a mutual friend, who encouraged him to send Ibeh a DM. He did, and they continued messaging on Twitter about shared goals and interests. Later, Emeka was accepted into the Washington University MFA program in St. Louis, where Chukwuebuka was enrolled. Ibeh didn’t know then, but Emeka applied to the program with a story Ibeh had provided feedback on. They’ve continued to share work since, and enjoyed many adventures as well.

For this interview, Emeka and Ibeh spoke over two days when Ibeh visited St. Louis for Christmas. Their initial conversation unfolded in Ibeh’s wonderfully warm apartment, and they continued connecting over email after Ibeh’s return to Lewisburg, PA, where he currently teaches.

David Emeka (left) and Chukwuebuka Ibeh (right)

Chukwuebuka Ibeh (CI): Congratulations on your Outpost residency! How did you feel coming out of it? What was your routine like?

David Emeka (DE): Thank you so much, Ebuka. Vermont was wonderful, and the Outpost residency even more so. I keep thinking about the meals, the warmth I felt from everyone there. The grounds—the trees, the cornfields, the mountains in the distance—were spectacular. I do some of my best thinking when walking, so I’d swaddle myself in a blanket and pace among the trees, just meditating. And then there was this hammock—that was my favorite spot. When my ideas had collected to supersaturation, I’d go into the hammock and cover myself with the blanket and write. I’m a morning person, but I love to write in the dark. Every day I woke up at dawn to write, had breakfast, paced and wrote and read, jogged around the neighborhood, then returned for dinner. Sometimes we cooked for each other—I would make sourdough bread, or D’mani Thomas, the other fellow, would make tacos. We took walks under the stunning sunsets. It was a splendid time.

CI: It truly sounds beautiful. How did this process translate when you returned home?

Podcast: Casey Walker on “Islands”

April 10, 2026 Audio, Issue 30, Podcast, Podcasts & Audio

Listen on Apple Podcasts.

Listen on Spotify.

Transcript: Casey Walker

CASEY WALKER speaks to EMILY EVERETT about his story “Islands,” which appears in The Common’s fall issue. Set at an old lake house rife with unresolved family tensions, the story explores the dynamics between three orphaned brothers, and between the narrator and his pregnant wife. Casey discusses how the piece evolved over more than a decade, and how he always hopes a story will take on a life of its own during the writing process. Also discussed is his forthcoming novel Mexicali, set in the US-Mexico borderlands during the first half of the 20^th century.

April 2026 Poetry Feature #1: Carson Wolfe, Benjamin Paloff, and Jehanne Dubrow

April 9, 2026 Poetry

April is poetry month! To kick it off, we have new poems by our contributors, CARSON WOLFE, BENJAMIN PALOFF, and JEHANNE DUBROW!

Jehanne Dubrow (left), Carson Wolfe (center), and Benjamin Paloff (right)

Table of Contents:

—Jehanne Dubrow, “Encounter” and “Winter Rye”

—Benjamin Paloff, “Of the Art of Conferring”

—Carson Wolfe, “I Rank Places by How Much They Charge for Pringles”

The Lost Box

April 7, 2026 Essays

By AIMEE LIU

1

He’s calling my name. About time. He’s been holed up in the bathroom for nearly an hour while my mother and I’ve busied ourselves elsewhere, pretending not to notice. Now as I wedge my way in, I find him seated on the rim of the tub like he’s waiting for an appointment.

Sickness has sallowed his skin and bruised the pouches around his eyes. His pale blue summer pajamas hang from his shrunken frame, and uncombed hair turbines around his head in a wild white corona. Yet my father sits up straight. He still manages to look irresistibly dashing in the way that Ray Milland might have, if he’d lived to ninety-five, had terminal cancer, and been half Chinese.

They Could Have

April 2, 2026 Poetry, Translation

By CONSTANTINE P. CAVAFY
Translated from the Greek by CONSTANTINE CONTOGENIS

Poem appears in both English and Greek below.

Translator’s Note:
In translating Cavafy I was most absorbed and, at times, confused by his irony. People make ironic points—no confusion. But some of Cavafy’s irony does not come to a sharp point. I call this unresolved irony, which adds to but doesn’t settle the semantic and emotional atmosphere. The experience of reacting to the irony in the context of its poem can be frustrating. Instead of crystalizing our understanding, or, as a kind of compass, leading us to the author’s side, the irony works within a poem to help create an experience of widening awareness, giving us a touch of wisdom.
— Constantine Contogenis

Two Poems by Erica Ehrenberg

April 1, 2026 Dispatches

By ERICA EHRENBERG

Art by Jonathan Ehrenberg

U N C O N T A I N A B L E

April 27, 2000 Issue 31, Issue 31 Poetry, Poetry

By L. S. KLATT

I leave the house unlocked & walk to the garage jacked to
The White Stripes. My mouth is a guitar; snow is in the sound hole.
Spring. I think it’s spring. The automatic door leaps

in its tracks & is music again. I record on my phone a soundwave
as the GTO convertible wheels out of its tomb, the driveway
chartreuse with maple wings. Tell White I’ll cut some garlic

in his mother’s garden; I’ll wear a rhinestone button-down
studded with garnets. Finger the fretboard with licks
& withdrawals. And toe-tap the pedal

if I don’t screw up again. If I don’t give up listening
to the leafing of lettuces. Won’t be long
before I could care less.

[Purchase Issue 31 here.]

L. S. KLATT’s poems have appeared widely: The New Yorker, Harvard Review, The Believer, Image, VOLT, The Southern Review, and Pleiades. He is the author of five collections, including Cloud of Ink, winner of the Iowa Poetry Prize, and most recently Saint with a Peacock Voice.

All posts tagged: April 2026

Book Review: Exemplary Humans

What We’re Reading: April 2026

The Constancy of Ocean Sounds

Searching for Meaning: Chukwuebuka Ibeh interviews David Emeka

Podcast: Casey Walker on “Islands”

April 2026 Poetry Feature #1: Carson Wolfe, Benjamin Paloff, and Jehanne Dubrow

The Lost Box

1

They Could Have

Two Poems by Erica Ehrenberg

U N C O N T A I N A B L E

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