Chicago Literati

After Five Years, Chicago Literati Says Goodbye

It is with a heavy heart that I must announce the closing of Chicago Literati. I have had the pleasure of creating and editing Chicago Literati, an idea born five years ago that evolved into a literary magazine that served the vibrant live-lit and writing community in Chicago and beyond. During my career as the editor-in-chief of Chicago Literati, I was able to interview many fascinating people,…

After Five Years, Chicago Literati Says Goodbye

It is with a heavy heart that I must announce the closing of Chicago Literati. I have had the pleasure of creating and editing Chicago Literati, an idea born five years ago that evolved into a literary magazine that served the vibrant live-lit and writing community in Chicago and beyond. During my career as the editor-in-chief of Chicago Literati, I was able to interview many fascinating people,…

“Nightly Circus”: Kathleen Flear Reviews Scott Navicky’s 3Essays on Imagereality

If reality could be defined as the place where one resides the most, then for Carlos Spencer-Bayard or “Ghost,” reality would be the contemplation of Imagereality. In Scott Navicky’s novel, 3Essays on Imagereality, Ghost embarks on a quest to find Imagereality’s essence, a feat he admits is impossible, because the definition of what Imagereality is outspans what it isn’t. According to Ghost and…

“Only Before and After”: Courtney Harler Interviews Philip Dean Walker, Author of READ BY STRANGERS

Author Photo Credit: Robert C. Walker

Any book that begins with a blurb by Wally Lamb, a dedication to a beloved grandmother, and an epigraph by William Faulkner automatically gets my attention. And that’s even before the actual stories begin! Furthermore, having read and reread Philip Dean Walker’s dazzling first collection, At Danceteria and Other Stories, I fully expected to enjoy Walker’s…

Monstrous Political Mayhem: A Review of Mr. Neutron by Joe Ponepinto

With the constant ticking feed of bizarre news and breaking stories of nonsensical chaos, we are no strangers to the wackadoodle state our political climate has fallen into, regardless of which “side” you cheer for. At times it feels as if literally anything is possible now in terms of running candidates, extreme policies, and what kind of skeletons will come bursting out of closets next. Joe…

HIRAETH by Nicholas Mcgaughey

“The English don’t understand The meaning of hiraeth!” My uncle declared, In Welsh more sung than spoken, His eyes dewy as Avalon, Invoking Gwalia As the promised land.   I feel no longing, Sucked between hills, Its rivers my blood Its stone my skin, Its loam my sinew, Its tongue my strength, And hiraeth Paraded as this truth.   My heart cartwheels When I flaunt brogues, kid gloves… And tally-ho!…

A BIT SICK by Xavier McCaffrey

It all started with a bad shepherd’s pie. I downed it, along with a pint of Beamish, in a hole-in-the wall pub in Cork. The cabbie who’d picked me up at the train station had recommended the place, and since I had an afternoon hour to kill before I met the lady with the room to let I thought, why not? I’d asked the cabbie for someplace authentic, where I would not run into any other Americans.…

Today we present Greg Rappleye's third and final poem in this week's series, "Last Letter from Great Aunt Nora." Enjoy!

Last Letter from Great Aunt Nora Gannon Gallagher, Resident at St. Margaret’s House of Industry (Infirmity Ward), Dublin, to Her American Nephew, Concerning the Spanish Civil War, John Dos Passos, Etc. 12 August 1937   If a Fiat Arrow barreled through the dreary Dublin sky, and scatter-sprayed incendiaries across the sorry shutters of this refuse heap, I’d God-bless Mussolini and step off into…

As the second in a series of three poems, we present "The Confession of Nora Gannon Gallagher" by Greg Rappleye.

Found in a Copy of John Duncan’s Birds of the British Isles (1898): Nephew, I have placed this letter at Page 100 of Duncan’s book, against his engraving of the Melodious Warbler (Hypolis polyglotta, Viell), because the author writes that this rare Irish visitor, like myself, “has but one British record.” —26 November 1932 Word went round Galway soon after the cruel murder of Father Michael…

We'll feature three stunning poems by Greg Rappleye this week. Here's the first, "Marsh Harrier."

—Circus aerugnosus —Nora Gannon (1881)   I need not name them—the poet who lured me to the granary near Belmullet and took me against the barley sacks. Nor the louche painter who sought my portrait and had much more in the startling sea-light at Ciede Fields, and the several others among that rakish group, until, by the Eve of St. Foillan’s Day, no one knew who might be the Da, though swayed by…

Silk Thread by Susan Coleman

The very heart of my family is on the Black Isle of Scotland, near the town of Fortrose on the Moray Firth. It’s where my parents met, although Mam was an Irish lass and Da was a German boy. It is the place of our dreams and will always be. Gone these many years, I can feel our mother’s presence still. Her story began on a cold early December day near Derry, Ireland, in 1874. On that day, she…

As Guest Editor, I am absolutely thrilled to announce the launch of our Celtic Issue!

Dear Friends and Readers of Chicago Literati, As Guest Editor, I am absolutely thrilled to announce the launch of our Celtic Issue! Beginning today, we’ll start publishing the most stunning selections from our recent reading period. Be sure to visit our site daily for the next few weeks to enjoy our gorgeous new content. Photo by James Butterly on Unsplash.

“A look of perplexity appeared on Gabriel’s face. It was true that he wrote a literary column every Wednesday in The Daily Express, for which he was paid fifteen shillings. But that did not make him a West Briton surely. The books he received for review were almost more welcome than the paltry cheque. He loved to feel the covers and turn over the pages of newly printed books.” ~From “The Dead”…

Please Support Chicago Literati

Chicago Literati is a 501c3 organization, a nonprofit online literary magazine open to all. We pride ourselves on our inclusive and evocative content, ranging from film reviews and think pieces to short fiction and original artwork. We value exploration and ingenuity, and those values are reflected in content we share. Donate here. As an assistant editor, I donate my time and expertise to this…

"To be saved from the night, I blaze when I write. It aches my mind to delay a rhyme. So I take my time to turn it into laden mines – lit by long fuses in thick chords."

 “At the Pen Strokes of Midnight”

a.k.a.

“Churning the Midnight Oil”

                                                                                                                                                                     amended on 6/10/05 & 6/14/08

Amid summer like heat, I’ve hit a midsummer night’s feat. My pen strikes ignited leaks like hitting oil on Iraqi soil. Another hundred now…