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| photo: Jacob Atwood |
Emeline Atwood graduated from the Michener Center for Writers in 2023. She writes fiction and poetry and is a recipient of the Thomas T. Hoopes Prize, the Louis Begley Prize, the Roger Conant Hatch Prize for Lyric Poetry, and the Le Baron Russell Briggs Fiction Prize. She lives in Austin, Tex. Her first novel, A Real Animal (Catapult, July 7, 2026), follows a young woman as she navigates three distinct romantic relationships, reckons with the false promise of family intimacy, and seeks connection with the sublime and natural worlds.
Handsell readers your book in 25 words or less:
Are you a sister? Do you ever feel like your loved ones don't know you? Have you ever wanted to inhabit a different body?
On your nightstand now:
Is a River Alive? By Robert Macfarlane
Lectures on Literature by Vladimir Nabokov
A Writer's Diary by Virginia Woolf
Moments of Being by Virginia Woolf
On Witness and Respair by Jesmyn Ward
Collected Works by Lorine Niedecker
The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice Lispector
Favorite book when you were a child:
Tracking and the Art of Seeing by Paul Rezendes. I was committed, as a child, to knowing the names and signs of every single wild thing living in our back woods. I wanted to be able to name every fern and identify every paw print, every pile of scat, and every tree in any season, not just from their leaves but from their branching patterns and buds.
Your top five authors:
Toni Morrison. Morrison can shatter my heart, twist it up, set it free, and spook me, all in a single sentence: "We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father's baby that the marigolds did not grow." (from The Bluest Eye)
Denis Johnson. Johnson has made the most normal things in the world transform before my eyes.
Vladimir Nabokov. Nabokov helps me see the luxury and heartbreak and magic in every misprint and coincidence and instance of mimicry in this world, and--of course--find the butterflies.
Jhumpa Lahiri. There is a voice--calm, tender, cool, and startling--in Lahiri's work that speaks to something very, very deep in me.
Joy Williams. Every story by Williams is packed with nerves, a sequence of little gasps.
Titans, all of them.
Book you've faked reading:
I find myself saying "yes" when people ask me if I've read The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen or Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, even though I finished neither.
Then, in college, I struggled through Ada, or Ardor by Vladimir Nabokov, even though I adore his others.
Books you're an evangelist for:
Artful Sentences: Syntax as Style by Virginia Tufte
Dreyer's English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style by Benjamin Dreyer
I don't want us to forget how to write--and finish--our own sentences, and how to make them excellent. A single sentence can do extraordinary things.
Book you've bought for the cover:
I didn't buy this remarkable book just for the cover, but I would've, even if I hadn't known anything about it: The Coin by Yasmin Zaher. One of the most striking, piercing covers out there.
Book that changed your life:
So many, but what's been top of mind for me lately is Exhalation by Ted Chiang. Two months ago, I revisited that short story "The Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feeling"--a tale more urgent now than ever--and it ignited in me an obsession with penmanship that has fundamentally changed the way I compose, think, and hold a pen. I now default to a tripod grip, without even thinking about it! I thought my quadrupod grip was one of those things I'd never be able to right. I am pleased, and also confused how the side of one's middle finger isn't always so swollen?
Favorite line from a book:
"I have a life that did not become" --A.R. Ammons, "Easter Morning," included in his collection A Coast of Trees
I've memorized this poem. It is precious to me. And that first line echoes constantly.
(Also, a day doesn't go by that I don't think about those eagles. That might be an exaggeration, but I don't think it is. I am still too scared, as a person, about the permanence of the past, and the path not taken, and loss, and the act of looking back. I hope I grow out of that.)
Five books you'll never part with:
The Largesse of the Sea Maiden by Denis Johnson. Reading this book always makes me want to write.
Words in Air: The Complete Correspondence Between Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell. Open up to any letter and feel full of awe and longing and envy and, I think, what I weirdly have to call nostalgia? It's hard to explain my attachment to this book.
The White Album and Slouching Towards Bethlehem. I am always remembering some part of a Joan Didion essay and having to pull one of these books off the shelf to locate it. If I didn't have these books constantly available to me, I'd have to find new copies.
Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout. My mom gave this book to me, and I read it in one sitting in high school, and it made me not only want to write something just like it but also be a writer who publishes things like it, which are two different things, I think. I guess, put another way, this book feels very important to my ambition, not just my vocation.
Roget's International Thesaurus. I need this to write.
Moby-Dick by Herman Melville. I have a decade and a half of marginalia in my copy. I could never give it away.
Book you most want to read again for the first time:
'Night, Mother by Marsha Norman. This is a play. It is stunning, and it broke me. It took me a very long time to catch my breath. I want to read it again so badly but haven't mustered up the courage and don't know if I ever will.