The Bookends Review
Established in 2012, The Bookends Review is a standalone creative arts journal that focuses on showcasing exceptional original works. It features a diverse range of content, including fiction, nonfiction, poetry, interviews, essays, book reviews, and visual and musical art from across the globe.
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1 day ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
It’s not often that a writer is equally adept at poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and literary criticism, yet Lee Upton has been an exception to the rule for over a decade. Unsurprisingly, her latest novel—Wrongful—only cements that fact, as it’s a thoroughly stirring and imaginative but realistic mystery/character study (in the self-aware vein of Agatha Christie) that exemplifies her many talents.
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1 day ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
Peter E. Murphy is the author of a dozen books and chapbooks of poetry and prose including the forthcoming A Tipsy Fairy Tale: A Coming of Age Memoir of Alcohol and Redemption about growing up in Wales and New York City. The founder of Murphy Writing of Stockton University based in Atlantic City, he leads writing workshops around the US an in Europe. I met Peter Murphy at the Murphy Writing Winter Getaway in January 2024.
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2 days ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
Apparently, I was the last person to see David Carver alive. I can’t remember if he froze or starved to death; it’s been too many years. It would have been late November. We had a storm come in from the south on Thanksgiving, melting most of the early snow into slush and knocking down widow-makers. I took my four-wheeler out, looking for fallen trees blocking paths. I could throw aside any fallen branches I found, but the fallen logs required me to break out my chainsaw.
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3 days ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
The plate is what did it. George hated the damn thing ever since him and Hannah got married. She said her aunt told her it was a relic from the Civil War, that her great grandad had it in his pack when he was shot in the nose at Vicksburg. Horseshit. She probably bought it at some flea market and conjured up some make-believe like all them old Kentucky women do. The chipped, porcelain circle – white rim decorated with blue flowers – was a shrine to deception and fabrications. George couldn’t stand it.
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6 days ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
In a small town, the weary figure of a man walking his dog, chain lead strung slackly between the man’s right hand and the dog who follows a good dozen feet behind him, a dog so aged, overweight, and arthritic it’s a miracle of sorts that it can move at all. Links of the chain drag on the sidewalk. The man wears an ancient army coat with a fur-lined hood and what seem to be ancient fur-lined bedroom slippers on his feet.
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