“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”
-William Faulkner

Meaning: Life consists of ongoing narrative threads, like musical motifs in a vast symphony.

ONE of our themes as a literary project is the relationship of American writing to American history. That nothing exists in a vacuum. That art is an expression of time and place, that it springs from the roots of a culture and represents the authentic voice of a people. Culture is not simply a dry artifact preserved in a jar and imposed by snobby profs in high-brow universities. It belongs to all of us.

As our new feature, we present a slice of American history ably written by J.B. Stevens: “The Marshal.” History come alive, in front of our eyes.

The War for Independence was a test of will, and he had passed. Unfortunately, there was a price, the foul dreams never relented. Musket balls passed nightly, and he woke in a sweat. He paid it no mind—his impacted British flesh, and the redcoats always missed, and the morning always came.