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Emily M. Keeler

Emily M. Keeler

|| Illustration by Lola Landekic
The Melancholy Hustle

Colson Whitehead was miserable when he entered the World Series of Poker. But poker is a perfect game for the miserable—and for a writer.

‘We’re All Wildcards’: On Freedom To Read Week

In January 1985, two years before her suicide, Margaret Laurence went on national television to say she was “profoundly angry.” A group of about 600 people had launched a campaign to ban her novels from high school libraries in the Peterborough...

Against Likeability

The ongoing conversation about whether protagonists ought to be likeable reveals how shallow the quality is in the first place.

Notes on Incest and Mr. Darcy

Let’s talk about incest. I missed the V.C. Andrews train as a kid—I can picture the book nestled in with my vast collection of second-hand Harlequins, but for whatever reason I never picked it up. (As a teen, and even...

Feeling Queasy Over Keller

The National Book Critics Circle Award finalists have been announced! You can see the ...

Are You On Team Martha?

One of my favourite elements of the Slate Book Review is the author editor interview. (Having sat in both seats myself, I’m reminded of the comedian Fred Allen, who, when editors would put in their demands for changes, would blurt, “Where were...

The Year in Wanting to Believe: The X-Files, 20 Years Later

In the suburbs of Calgary, I sat on a sectional sofa in a dark basement, too afraid to move through the blackness of the main floor, up another flight of stairs to my bed, because the only faith I had was that some kind of alien, some kind of...

Liz Worth’s Spooky Shelves and Many Ouija Boards

I watched The X-Files growing up, and my boyfriend had never seen them, so we’re watching them now. It’s funny, some of the episodes I remember being in love with, when I watch them now they’re not that good. But … David Duchovny is...

Peter Kaplan as Writerly Svengali

Peter Kaplan, the steward of a generation of snappy upstart journalists, has...

Hold the Turkey, Pass the Stuffing

As the temperature dips, I find myself thinking mostly about bodies and heat. Something about snow makes me crave spice, and I’m not the only one, not by a long shot. Even here at Hazlitt there’s a renewed interest in getting under the covers—...