B-Sides Vol. 1

An unlocked essay, Italian amore, a mango surplus, and lots of recs.

As the days and weeks go by between my (mostly) monthly dispatches here, I tend to have little ideas for things I’d like to write about or share but that don’t always warrant a full post.

So, I’m launching what will be a semi-regular feature here at Dwell where I will collect a handful of these ideas into little riffs—similar to what I did last year at one point—and share them in posts I plan to label “B-Sides.” I’ll also end these posts with links to things I’m watching, reading, and listening to.

This here is volume one. I hope you enjoy!

A full post is coming your way next week.

I.

The Cleveland Review of Books recently decided to move all of the essays and reviews they’ve published in their print editions online as part of a new subscription model. As a result, an essay I published last summer titled “Awareness Pimps: Trauma, art, and the jagged fantasy of ‘spreading the word’” is now available to read online for the first time.

The essay is about a public art exhibit I stumbled on in Miami, and how it sent me down a spiral thinking through big questions about the ethics and impact of art that centers trauma—and in particular whether the aim to “raise awareness” about an issue through such art is a noble or even achievable one.

The beautiful print edition of the journal that was published in August ‘24.

The essay is one of the most discursive and personal things I’ve written—I explore my own complicated relationship with trauma, both as a journalist who regularly reported on tragedies and as a writer who has tried to be careful when writing about my own trauma. In the essay I also try to grapple with the pressure writers—and particularly writers of color—can feel to perform one version of their identity over others depending on what the market demands at any given moment. There are asides about 50 Cent, the war in Gaza, and some of the clickbait practices I was privy to in newsrooms.

Most people missed this essay when it first came out because it was only part of the CRB’s print edition, but I encourage you to read it as one of three free articles you get before hitting their new paywall. I also highly encourage you to subscribe to the CRB. They are one of the best literary journals out there with top-shelf literary criticism and think pieces. My experience being edited and published by them was a joy. Personally, it was a no-brainer to pull the trigger on a $25 online subscription.

II.

The Italian translation of my debut novel, Victim (translated as Vittima) has been out for about a month now and has received some serious love. Just this week, a friend of mine shared with me that he spotted the novel at the Milan airport, which got me so excited. The U.S. edition of Victim never made it into any domestic airports—as far as I’m aware at least—so it is extremely special and gratifying to see it get this treatment internationally (and in a trendy city like Milan no less!).

Shoutout to my Italian publisher 66thand2nd who has killed the rollout.

The critical reception in Italy has been nothing short of incredible. The novel has been reviewed or mentioned in half a dozen serious publications out there, including big and positive reviews in Il Sole 24 Ore and L’Indiependente, Q&A’s published in the literary supplement of Corriere della Sera and in d la Repubblica, and a mention as one of the must-read books of June by Italy’s Harper’s Bazaar.

I’ve sat for two interviews with esteemed Italian journalists and have found their questions to be extremely intelligent. Interestingly enough, they tend to ask a lot more about politics than I ever discussed during my U.S. press stops—and in particular questions related to Trump’s victory, why the Democrats lost ground with minority voters, and how these things relate to themes I’m exploring in the novel.

It’s been fascinating to see what international readers get out of the novel and mostly I’m just grateful that Victim is getting a new lease on life one year after its release, and connecting with readers around the world that I would have never imagined it reaching.

III.

Mangoes on mangoes on mangoes.

After dropping my kids off at school in the morning, lately I have spent the first 20 minutes of my day in the yard sorting through mangoes. I have a huge tree on the property that is giving more abundance this year than Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson could ever desire.

On any given morning over the last week or so there have been 30 or 40 mangoes on the ground, and I go through and check each one. The ones that crack on impact after falling off the tree, or that have big chunks bitten out of them by the squirrels (they fucking love mangoes) get tossed in the trash. The rest get taken inside and stored. So that you understand what I’m dealing with, this is what my side table looked like yesterday (about two day’s worth of mangoes that I found outside on the ground).

No one man should have all these mangoes.

We’ve made mango juice, mango margaritas, and we try to eat at least three or four a day. My son loves them. He sits at the table with a huge bowl and devours it with a spoon like it’s a bowl of Lucky Charms. He loves them so much that last night, upset that we wouldn’t cut one up for him (it was way too late, that shit takes way too long, and he needed to go to sleep) my man took a mango to bed and slept with it all night (true story). My wife and I love mangoes, too, so we’re happy. My daughter isn’t a huge fan, but such is life.

In addition to the peace and calm I feel methodically picking up the mangoes, sorting them, and cutting them (it is practically therapeutic), it’s been dope to have gifts to give away to friends, family, neighbors, and my kids’ teachers at school. It seems that everybody’s day can be brightened with a mango, and it feels nice to be the local plug this season.

Speaking of which: If you live in Miami and you want some mangoes, hit me up. Also, if the tree is still putting out by July 15 when I have a dope ass event at Books & Books with Melissa Mogollon, author of the national best-seller, Oye and Joseph Earl Thomas, author of the critically acclaimed God Bless You, Otis Spunkmeyer, I plan on bring a bunch with me to hand out to audience members. So, mark your calendars.

This is going to be so much fun.

IV.

And now, some recs for your head-top.

To Read (on Substack):

1. “The Three Jobs of the Modern Editor, or 36 Plates” by

Sean deLone

: This is an extremely insightful look into the modern day realities of a fiction editor at a big imprint. There’s a lot of griping about editors and how they’re evil, and what they do, or what they don’t do, and who they publish and who they don’t publish, but a lot of these conversations overlook the fact that these people tend to be extremely overworked and underpaid, and that for the most part they are actually trying to put out books they care about.

2. “Writing Through Fear” by

Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

: I loved the honesty in this piece. I think it will be refreshing and enlightening for emerging writers to hear that even literary stars with big hits under their names like Adjej-Brenyah experience doubt and the fear of failure, and that—just like everyone else trying to do this thing—they must figure out ways push past those feelings, get the words down, and take risks.

To Read (Books):

I’ve been on a non-fiction binge due to research I’m doing for my second novel. I came to all three of these because of said research, but I really enjoyed them, and recommend them.

1. Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams: I now understand why Facebook and Mark Zuckerberg wanted to kill this book. It definitely doesn’t paint them in a great light and it shows in great detail how the company pivoted from lofty, aspirational aims to more insidious ones.

2. Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson: Jobs seems like he was a grade A asshole, but it was inspiring to read about his dedication to craft, design, and making products that push us all forward. One of my favorite quotes: “Great art stretches the taste, it doesn’t follow tastes.” There were a lot of quotables I jotted down and that I’ll probably write more about later. I think a lot of what Jobs believed in translates well into lessons writers can take to heart.

3. Who Can You Trust? By Rachel Botsman: This was a fascinating read about how many of the apps, devices, and systems we use today—and that are coming—are predicated on earning our trust and convincing us to make “trust leaps” such as believing you’ll be safe getting in a stranger’s car (Uber) or agreeing to rent your home out to strangers (Air BnB) or trusting that the humanoid robot in your home won’t kill you (coming soon). There are also some great insights on how this version of trust looks a lot different from the trust we once had in institutions.

To Listen To (Pods and Songs):

1. Ben Brooks on the 1storypod with

Sean Thor Conroe

and

HAROLD

: This was a fun conversation about a new novel in translation from Brazil (Via Ápia by Geovani Martins) that Ben, an editor at FSG, is publishing next month (and which he sent me and I plan on reading because it sounds fire), the modern publishing world, and what the job of a young, hungry editor in New York City trying to publish cool shit looks like these days.

2. Author Karen Hao on the

Time To Say Goodbye

podcast: The boys interviewed Karen about her new book called Empire of AI (an instant NYT best seller), which details OpenAI’s and Sam Altman’s rise to household names. Based on their conversation (which both intrigued me and freaked me the fuck out) Karen’s book is something I must read ASAP.

3. “Proud of Me” by Fridayy feat. Meek Mill: I’ve thought a lot about this song ever since I heard it a few months ago, and with father’s day approaching it feels worth highlighting. Meek Mill’s verse is one of the hardest and most impactful verses I’ve heard all year (I cried the first time I listened to it) and the entire track does a wonderful job at illuminating the pain of losing a father figure, or not having one, and the many ways that pain is often masked by young men—particularly young men of color. A beautiful, raw track that I will revisit many, many times.

Peace,

Andrew