Revan Schendler was an assistant editor at The New York Review from 1989 to 1991. Two of her poems have appeared in its pages. She lives, writes, and teaches in western Massachusetts.


Second Growth

A pair of beech trees branches stretching wide rises from the chassis of a truck lying to one side of an abandoned logging trail— in the tarn’s stagnant warmth a single cell performs the calculations to transform pond to marsh to wood to field to pond— …

Brown Leaves

Three men feeding a fire with brown leaves: two disappear, after a time, return, while the last stands watch, rolls up his sleeves, though the air is cold and the earth still heaves in its sleep. They don’t display much concern, three men feeding …


Rude Mechanicals

An assistant editor's desk at the New York Review in the mid-1990s

When I think of the focused efforts that led nowhere, and the gifts that have fallen in my lap—like working at the Review—I have to resist discerning a pattern. I was sleeping on a friend’s floor in New Orleans, running from a heavy heart, when Barbara Epstein offered me a job as assistant editor. It was the spring of 1989; I was twenty-four.