Ian Ross Singleton (Инь и Ян)

by Ian Ross Singleton

About Ian Ross Singleton
Contact
Curriculum Vitae
Two Big Differences

Contact

ian DOT singleton AT (СОБАЧКА) gmail DOT com

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Fiction

*Odessitka* (excerpt) (Cardinal Points)
First Time (New Madrid) “It was like looking into a mirror. She was surprised A.J. could still appear so innocent, when she saw the live-motion portrait of him on the television more than a year later. She had seen that primed glance, like the ting off the tip of a fang…”
Her Pictures of the South (Fiddleblack) “Lynn’s first photographs of him, taken in a diner unawares, reveal a sneering figure surrounded by a gang of boys hunkered in a booth, devouring sopping fries, wearing a stressed leather jacket and threadbare jeans, pouncing in his seat…”
Michigan Central (Digital Americana) “I was only nineteen, alone, out of money, and ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was striking up. When he cracked the seal on a pint of Mohawk vodka and offered, I threw back…”
Sweetgum (Fiddleblack) “The sun’s just gone under, the livid pallor of all the surface, save the sweetgum, sucks at me. My neck snaps, I twitch. I shut my window and ride on. The empty fields course and whisper past, the earth rolling over on her shoulder from me…”
The Lost Soul Boys (Prick of the Spindle) “At school, we have to tuck our shirts in, remove any piercings. We have to buzzcut our hair. They confiscated my skull rings, my spike bracelet, and my handcuff belt. My head aches from the fluorescent light, my butt from the welded jailhouse desks…”
Two Big Differences “This story is the American English version of one that should take place in Ukrainian Russian. Odessan Russian, Zina would say. She would call me Valinka or Valya or Valentine. Zina…how would she tell this story?”

Fiction Writers Review

"A Story is a House: an Interview With Kristina Gorcheva-Newberry"
An Interview with Laura Thomas
Apollo In The Grass by Aleksandr Kushner
Betrayers
Black Holes and Blue Windows
Dystopias Future and Past
Imagination Pointing Backwards: an Interview with Mikhail Iossel
Irony is the New Chastity: An Interview with Charles Baxter
Little Histories in Svetlana Alexievich's Secondhand Time
Of Translation and Politics in Russian Literature
The Translingual Novel
The Value of Naïveté: Shishkin’s Maidenhair in Russian and English

Los Angeles Review of Books

"Go Home and Keep Going: A Review of Immigrant City by David Bezmozgis"
"God is Genderqueer: A Conversation with H. L. Hix"
"I'm Sure You Understand": On Pavel Lembersky’s “The Death of Samusis, and Other Stories”
"Never Too Soon: a Conversation With Leland Cheuk"
"Only in Her Head: On Mona Awad’s 'All’s Well'"

Nonfiction

A Prize Muzhik Shirt
Gryphon by Charles Baxter, Old and Cold by Jim Nisbet (Word Riot)
Interview with Ian Singleton (David Alan Binder)
Interview with Ian Singleton (Fringe)
Résumé Against Boredom, Occupy the Ports (Fringe)
Shirley Jackson : the Library of America Anthology (Ploughshares)

Other Websites

My Teacher Galina Shabelsky (1930-2020) The memorial for my teacher, Galina Shabelsky.
Poets and Writers

Poetry

Breaking Ice (Dr. Hurley's Snake Oil Cure)
The Villainy of Hamlet (The Toucan)

Translation

"Janiculum" / "The Prose of Life" / "A Letter from Zürau" by Marina Eskin (The Cafe Review)
"Janiculum" by Marina Eskina (The Wax Paper) “The hill’s shadow covers the sandy eternal city like the tide,/ as if time wants to wipe itself out, level off its depth./ Sun melts his back, yet the victor stands astride./ It’s our turn to decide: Rome or death…”
"Reading Samizdat" by Marina Eskina (Saint Ann's Review) “In the ear, the boiler’s chirring noise./ In the kitchen, Galich’s broken voice.”
A Letter from Zürau by Marina Eskina (Asymptote) “Dreams about mice bode despair. The horde buries/ the cat, then envelops the horse from head to hoof,/ and the rider gallops astride mice…”
How We Buried You I Don’t Remember (To Father) by Marina Eskina (Cardinal Points) “Sorry that, on the way home/ from the burial, I probably counted crows./ How we buried you I don’t remember…”
The Prose of Life by Marina Eskina (Cardinal Points) As for the prose of life, just let it be,/ whether and what for it’s got poetry,/ and what string, other than the one you pluck,/ resonates with the wail of ambulance or fire truck…

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