“You are reading while walking, she reads. You can't see your feet. The spread pages glide over the sidewalk, mottled by leaf shadows, by moonlight and streetlight. Over continents of shadow, continents of light. The book is a bird with… — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
The Internet is such a paradoxical space - it's limitless and totally bounded, apparently free yet corporate-controlled, apparently invisible yet surveilled, a place of… — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
The Internet is a graveyard, a bright malfunctioning littoral, and it is entirely necropastoral. But the necropastoral can't be sustained - it's non-sustainable. — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
You can't drive to the coastline. You can only drive so close to the white chalky cliff and then you have to get out… — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
I've begun to recognize myself as a Catholic writer because my whole notion of the image, of symbol, of art and what it can… — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
“You are reading while walking, she reads. You can't see your feet. The spread pages glide over the sidewalk, mottled by leaf shadows, by… — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
My notion of art is very maximalist and souped-up: I love spectacle, overload, magic materials, magic words, incantation and litany, incarnation and possession, spilling… — Joyelle McSweeney Copy Share Image
