Hello friends and family of the house,

These are hard times, impossible to fathom times, unprecedented times. We keep hearing *in these times* and *now more than ever* and *hope you’re as well as can be right now!* And it’s all true, it’s all terrible, and it’s impossible to ignore. I haven’t been able to move past these linguistic tics yet- there has to be some kind of acknowledgement of covid at the opening of any interaction. “How are you?” I insist on asking, still, even though I know the answer will never be good. My reflexive answer has developed into “I’m ok but just ok.” I’ve felt that way for over a month. 

Every day we experience mourning anew. Some of us are sick, some of our loved ones are sick. Some are dying. And we’re all watching our lives stagnate or crumble. There seems to be no end to the ways we can be sad on our own or others’ behalf. I keep seeing people write a variation of their lives having been on track, and now, all this. And through it all, we’re expected to keep supporting each other, in creative unheard of ways, when we can’t even visit a suffering friend or give a hug.

At the beginning of social distancing, I had two moments that stood out. I had to cancel my son’s 5th birthday party, which I had been lovingly planning for over a month. It was Unicorns and Dragons themed, and there was going to be a pinata. Every kid was going to choose- unicorn horn or dragon mask. (You only turn 5 once…) The day before what would have been the party, Emma C. Eisenberg hosted a surprise book launch for Triangle House Literary author Hilary Leichter for her debut novel Temporary, and I cried. I was inspired and launched the Homebound lecture series a few days later. 

The Homebound events have provided moments of fun and laughter, and their intent is to support the literary community as we experience this unprecedented, history-making moment. We partnered with bookshop.org to sell books by every author who has participated. We’ve hosted literary industry roundtable discussions about independent magazines and literary agents. We are taking donations, building up to another project intent on giving back. But I hope these events have done something more.

Reading Elisa Gabbert’s amazing piece about the infamous lectures given in Soviet-era prison camps was an incredibly moving experience I’ve carried with me since. Our events have the barest of inspirations from the feeling I had when I read this essay- to be able to give something back, in a moment of darkness, based on what we carry with us wherever we go. 

The Homebound events will continue, and we have some incredible panels, readings, and lectures lined up including Food As Home, a party for Spring debut novelists, a panel about criticism, and another New Non Fiction panel. Sign up for our newsletter to receive these invitations. But, we’re also going to be posting them to our site in a new vertical, Housebound. There, we also hope to feature more reviews, interviews, and short-form content as social distancing continues. If there’s a book you want to review, especially one you feel hasn’t received the attention it deserves, or you have a short essay about loneliness or being home, or something else, anything else, we’d love to work with you on something new, please pitch us at becca@triangle.house. 

During one of the panels, Rion Amilcar Scott said (I’m probably misquoting and butchering his eloquence) that “we’re all feeling feelings we’ve never felt before.” And has there ever been a moment where that’s been more true, for as many people at the same time, as now? For me, there has been some comfort but also some stress about the evenness of my days. I just don’t want to be “OK” every day. But I’m so grateful for it.

This issue is being launched at the tail end of the cruelest of cruel months. But there is something beautiful. People show up for you, make you feel loved, a part of something, now, when they don’t have to, in small ways that manifest large because they mean it even more, and how that makes you look at your own actions, hoping so hard that someone feels the same way because of you. The kind of things and people that make you feel so lucky now because before, you didn’t know how important they were. I’m proud of this issue for bearing witness to that.

We’re featuring the art of Precious Okoyomon, whom we’ve published in the past and who brought me to tears with a cake. Her photographs capture her experience in quarantine. Becca’s former poetry professor, Ralph Angel, died in the beginning of March, and we’re honored to bring his poems to those who never had the chance to read them, and grateful to Jessica Morey-Collins, another one of his students, for her introduction to his work. We’ve watched the literary community come together to support authors who are publishing books during quarantine and can’t have a traditional tour, and we hope to continue giving voice to these works, like our excerpt from Megan Gidding’s novel Lakewood. We’re excited to continue exploring how writing and visual art can work together in a crisis, which you can experience in Devereux Fortuna’s essay for this issue. And of course, we wouldn’t be Triangle House without a little bit of drama (and who doesn’t need some goss in quarantine,) so it’s been great to work with Brad Babendir on his criticism on the state of communicating with authors as a critic. 

Triangle House’s entire purpose is to connect writers and readers and foster community for the literary world. We hope to see your faces or names at future Homebound events, read your work soon, and, when this is all over, we’re going to have the biggest party.

Love,

Monika & Triangle House