Beginning writers, sending short stories through the mail using devices called stamps, often face The Paris Review question: Do I dare? Yes, you do. It costs nothing more than 44 cents, and it’s good for a few minutes or months of literary dreams, depending on how well your head is screwed on. But remember the last step: Forget all about it. For The Paris Review throws all unsolicited submissions, three-pointer style, into an ancient, fire-belching potbellied stove, which a soot-covered intern, such as Philip Roth (Summer, 1946) or Don DeLillo (Fall, 1952), keeps eternally lit for this very purpose. Don’t believe us? Then ask the current head of the magazine, managing editor Caitlin Roper, who speaks on the details of the 57-year-old magazine, such as accepting submissions only by mail (because then they burn, you see, which produces the fire to heat the kettle). "Behind the Scenes at The Paris Review" also includes a few of those being published — probably through nepotism, but maybe not — in the Summer Issue: photographer Jeff Antebi, writer Chaz Reetz-Laiolo, and poet Matthew Zapruder.
Mon., June 14, 7:30 p.m., 2010
