Byline: Tess Solomon

The Empathetic Potential of Fiction

Examining the relationship between feminist literary theory, authority by experience, and the potential of the human moral imagination.

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To Proclaim a Dying World

“A museum setting might sterilize the dread of the inevitable ending at which any chronological exhibit explicitly in conversation with environmentalism must arrive. But the accessibility of this juxtaposition right up front makes sure one is clued into that inevitability and made to feel it violently.”

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Dear April, May, June, July

“At the end of July, I think I am waiting for time itself to act, to catch up with itself, to wake us up again.”

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Telescoping Youth

Memories may fade as distance grows wider between ourselves and our young selves, but one thing remains constant: if we dig down deep into the recesses of our experiences, hold light up to the seeds of our current moment, brush off the dust, we might find something worth writing about.

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The Anonymous Tastemakers

“During a discussion of symbols in my writing seminar, a classmate referred to the sweatshirt, which they were wearing, as ‘a semiotic wonder.'”

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After A Fashion

A profile of Kotami and its founders, Sofie Kim ’20 and MC Otani ’21.

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No Angel Knows

“At the top of the platform I turned left. The flat surface of the hemispheric bubble sprawled below. In my memory, the red chairs looked like rock candy.”

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At Your Fingertips

On nail polish and the theory of cosmetics.

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Thanksgiving

“We pass it every year, the way the parade passes. Then we arrive home with the last notes of the song, evidence against our staying power, our packaging, upon return, found intact.”

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Close

“Matter warps that geometry.
So I try to piece her together like he would.”

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Why We Do OA

“Our most homespun particularities would illuminate the dusk in the woods like lanterns as we sat together after dinner.”

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Farmers and Princeton Against Hunger

“Eight-hundred pounds of beautiful Arkansas Black apples later, we took off our gloves. Some wiped off their foreheads. We squinted at each other in the sun, smiling.”

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