We are excited to welcome three Editors-at-Large to Milkweed Editions, and along with one of these editors, a new literary series.
A LETTER FROM OUR PUBLISHER & CEO, DANIEL SLAGER
Over the years, I have often asked writers we are publishing to recommend other writers and manuscripts. Countless new relationships and projects have come to us as a result, and so when I thought of ways to expand the range of curatorial and editorial perspectives at work in building our publishing program, the notion of adding Editors-at-Large struck me as a natural outgrowth – a formalization, perhaps more precisely –…
Thirty years ago today, Max Joseph Ritvo was born in Los Angeles.
Introduction to Tim Robinson’s Listening to the Wind, a Seedbank series title.
As you will have heard by now, President Trump’s administration submitted its first federal budget request to Congress this week. The proposal calls for the elimination of a number of federal agencies, including the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA). Here at Milkweed Editions, our publishing program is sustained by a healthy mix of revenue, including revenue from the sales of books we have published as well as support from readers like you, from private foundations, and from government agencies such as the Minnesota State Arts Board and the NEA. In fact, we have received financial support from the NEA almost every year since our founding in 1980.
We believe that independent publishers and booksellers serve an invaluable role in America today. We provide a means by which readers discover different perspectives and new points of view, encouraging empathy and a sense of common humanity. As a nonprofit organization, we are empowered to make decisions about the books we publish based on our mission, not a bottom line.
If you believe, as we do, that the authors we support and books we publish are more essential than ever, please consider giving a year-end gift to Milkweed Editions today to help us continue to create beautiful, meaningful books. Click HERE to donate now.
One Friday afternoon this past May, I received an email from Martha Collins. She asked me to consider a manuscript by a young poet named Max Ritvo. Jean Valentine had selected his work for a chapbook competition, Martha explained, and Lucie Brock-Broido had selected some of the poems in the manuscript for publication in the Boston Review. Martha added only that there was some urgency, as an illness had thrust this young man into what would become the final stage of his life.
