Terese Svoboda

Jan 3, 2025 | 3quarksdaily.com | Terese Svoboda

My brother would roll his eyes back, shout applesauce or give me your hair, and fall to the ground in front of, say, the cheerleading squad, only to return to normal, dazed and confused, pale and clammy, with a big blank in his brain five minutes later. One in a hundred Americans suffer from incurable epilepsy, one-third of those untreatable. None of the many drugs prescribed for my brother's epilepsy consistently prevented his seizures.

Nov 4, 2024 | 3quarksdaily.com | Terese Svoboda

Donald Sutherland was a connoisseur of poetry. In the 80s I knew poetry-quoting doyennes from the glittering parties the Academy of American Poets threw as well as the Sudanese who recited their histories in song, but mostly I knew poets obsessed with competing with dead ones, with an eye toward their next book. Poets generally love poetry the way auto mechanics love cars.

Jul 8, 2024 | 3quarksdaily.com | Terese Svoboda

Built in 1958, the father designed the house along the lines of Frank Lloyd Wright, with a flat roof, lots of full-length glass windows, old brick, patios instead of porches, and a sunken garden with a St. Francis birdbath surrounded by ivy beside the entrance. The door had a starburst handle in the middle. Actual prairie abutted the house, as it was situated at the edge of town, population five thousand, not the best place to show off architecture unless there were parties of out-of-towners.

Apr 30, 2024 | electricliterature.com | Marcia Aldrich |Terese Svoboda |Daniel Olivas |Jo Lou

As we move out of winter and into spring, the days are becoming longer, but a chill still lingers in the air. In this reading list, monsters are made real, queer love blooms in spite of oppression, and friendships are both nourished and torn apart. Spanning Cameroon to Scotland, these indie authors reinvent the coming of age story, imbue their writing with magic, and turn the mundane into the extraordinary. Now more than ever it is vital to support indie publishers.

Apr 15, 2024 | tnq.ca | Terese Svoboda

I must have telephoned him. It had been well over two years since I’d seen him, but he didn’t say no to my visit when we talked, despite Kate. I hadn’t known about her, I hadn’t known until decades later, reading his bio online, that he had just returned from North Africa, and that was why he’d even risked my visiting. I must not have given him a chance to tell me. I must have telephoned him and heard a muffled yes from between his bearded lips. Kate must have had a day or two to prepare.