Articles

  • 2 weeks ago | washingtonpost.com | Robert Rubsam

    By Tezer Özlü, translated from Turkish by Maureen FreelyThe narrator of Özlü’s gorgeous novel, originally published in 1983 and recently translated into English, is a woman much like the writer herself: Turkish, middle-aged, hungry for love and deeply alienated from her surroundings.

  • 3 weeks ago | commonwealmagazine.org | Robert Rubsam

    About ten years ago, during a season of great freedom, I went for a hike in the Scottish Highlands. I had been living for some months in Ireland, thumbing rides and climbing mountains, and I had taken the boat to the Knoydart Peninsula to see how far I could push things. One morning, I set out to climb Ladhar Bheinn, a trip I’d been told would last seven or eight hours.

  • 1 month ago | apollo-magazine.com | Robert Rubsam

    Keita Morimoto is a nocturnal artist. He paints urban life between dusk and dawn, a lonely crepuscular cityscape of dark buildings and fluorescent lights. The brand-new works collected in ‘To Nowhere and Back’ (the majority date from 2025) at Almine Rech’s Tribeca gallery, construct a dreamlike picture of Tokyo after dark, where isolated figures gather at lonely intersections without ever meeting. Morimoto was born in Osaka and in 2006 he moved to Canada to study art in Toronto.

  • 1 month ago | robertrubsam.substack.com | Robert Rubsam

    Happy spring, all. Just because this country is falling apart at the hands of belligerent idiots and authoritarian nihilists doesn’t mean that I can just stop writing. First, the CRB published an excerpt of my novelTo the Madhouse as a story titled “The Garden Party.” It’s the first piece of fiction I’ve published in nearly five years, and if you like it, there’s quite a lot more like it in the book. I’ll include an excerpt below.

  • 1 month ago | mubi.com | Robert Rubsam

    Miguel Gomes’s Grand Tour premieres in theaters on March 28 before coming to MUBI on April 18. Some years ago, I traveled nearly the length of Russia on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. That winter was warm, as nearly all are now, but a Siberian winter is still winter by any definition, and for two weeks I shivered my way from Ulaanbaatar to Moscow.

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