I believe that fiction is an incredibly capacious mode, and tend to think, too, that storytelling broadly relies on the promise of hope-one, perhaps, for a deeper understanding that may be generated therein. I am the sort of a person who has always turned to fiction in times of disorder, distress, despair. The condition of our present feels more untenable by the day, hour, minute, even-with the warp-speed dissemination of information generated in the age of social media-by the very second. In the voice memos of the group chat the girls and I teeter between discussions of Corey Stoll’s unimpeachable sexual charisma and our nagging sense that we are not approaching system collapse but are living already inside of it.
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