A journal of humanity and human experience

Coming up next

We are currently seeking applicants for the positions of Poetry Editor and Nonfiction Editor.
Subscribe now to and get our latest issue featuring the winners of the 2024 BLR Literary Prizes.
Join us online on Thursday, May 23, 2024 at 7 PM ET for a night of readings and interviews with the 2024 winners of the BLR Literary Prizes, featured in Issue 46.

As featured on NPR's Morning Edition

NPR’s Neda Ulaby reported on BLR‘s 20th Anniversary, featuring BLR Editor Danielle Ofri, along with author Celeste Ng. Long before Celeste Ng reached stratospheric popularity with Everything I Never Told You and Little Fires Everywhere, she was an emerging author, whose story “Girls, at Play” appeared in BLR and then won a Pushcart Prize.

Whiting Award Winner

BLR was awarded a Whiting Literary Magazine Prize for
“excellence in publishing, advocacy for writers, and a unique contribution to the strength of the overall literary community.”

BLR Off the Page

DISCOVER MORE

A Figment of Your Imagination

I am a figment of your imagination. You may laugh skeptically, and I admit there is much that would seem to prove I am anything but…

Book Review: The Future of Us

A society that ignores the basic health care needs of its children “reflects a moral failure to value and respect the aspirations of children.”

Call/Waiting

Throughout the evening, I hear explanations of why people can’t talk when I call. “I’m cooking dinner for my kids,” women tell me, harried. “You know how it is.”

“My husband will be home soon,” one woman says. “Dinner is our time together.”

Recoil 

After my father’s disk sander had whirred to halt, he turned to me and gestured majestically. “Matthew, the work is always the best pay.”

Eye Examined

In the darkened room, vision dims. /
The doctor leans close, looks eye to eye; / his light invades my pupil’s rim.

The Call

I could tell from his voice / something was horribly wrong. / I’m okay he said over and over / in a tone that told me he was anything but.

In My Head

You are twelve years old and your mind is like a game of hot potato. Your thoughts are quick and jerky, and you need to get past them before you get burned.

Assisted Living

Mary’s not at dinner and no one knows why. Roy is limping but at least he’s up walking again after last month when he fell by the mailboxes and dislocated his new knee.

Breathing

My office is quiet except for the noise I make: the click of the light switch, the hum of the computer, the crinkle of my paper gown as I unwrap it. I pull on my PPE—gown, gloves, mask, and goggles—makeshift protection as I evaluate patients for suspected Covid infection.

Praise & Recognition