HOW WILL YOU REMEMBER THE PANDEMIC?40 authors from around the world set out to record their innermost feelings-- to offer inspiring, heartfelt, creative takes on the Covid-19 pandemic. Crime fiction, elegant and angry poetry, and gut-wrenching personal essays: all paint a picture of the year and help us make sense of the sacrifices we've made in 2020. Thank you for your generous support: all profits donated to charity.A brainchild of editor Lise McClendon, the anthology was shepherded by her with her co-editors— Taffy Cannon, Kate Flora, and Gary Phillips— to bear witness to the events taking place all around us, and especially within us, as we grapple with disease, isolation, death, and, yes, a healthy dose of chaos. Some writers chose to mine their own psyches and experiences, whether the challenges of life in lockdown or their struggles with productivity and focus. Others felt called to wry, dark fiction or poetry. Across the globe the reactions portray a similar anger, pain, and struggle from writers from the US, Canada, Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany, Northern Ireland, Spain, Italy, and Romania. Our lives have been forever changed by these times. Whether a chance encounter with a mural on a utility box, to the lockdown in New York City and dystopian fiction, these writers never stopped imagining and exploring their worlds. Stuck at home, watching the news in horror, helping others: these writers' imaginations kept clicking right along (although their productivity sometimes took a hit.) As mystery writers the editors found many of their fellow crime writers willing to contribute, as was the well-known Romanian journalist and writer George Arion, true crime writer Caitlin Rother, German mystery writer Tatjana Kruse, thriller writer Robin Burcell, travel writer Tim Cahill, and many more. Poetry by 92nd St. Y Literature Director Wendy Salinger, Irish poet Paul Jeffcutt, haiku poet Z.J. Czupor, and crime writers Jim Nisbet, Gerald So, and Keith Snyder adds its own special punch between essays and stories. Illustrations are included.STOP THE WORLD Contributors:George Arion Meredith BlevinsEoghan EganJohn ShepphirdGary PhillipsAdriana LicioMike MonsonMerrilee RobsonJohn ClarkPiet TiegelerTravis RichardsonRichard CassTim CahillJody JaffeCaitlin RotherNaomi HiraharaKate FloraDonna MooreLise McClendonTatjana KruseDan FespermanTami HaalandTaffy CannonMatt CoyleMarian StanleyJohn RemberJ. Madison DavisSarah M. ChenWendy HornsbyRobin BurcellSharan NewmanJacqui BrownCraig LancasterZ.J. CzuporGerald SoAllen Morris JonesWendy SalingerJim NisbetPaul JeffcuttKeith Snyder Here is poet Wendy Salinger's take on her adopted hometown, New York City, during the pandemic:ODE TO THE CITYWhat's a city? I forget.My stanzas are bare as winter now,though I still feel the presence of the crowd sometimes, like a hand at my shoulder.In towns and suburbs I was lonely.I wanted to be lost.Those first weeks after I came I walked for hours without a destination,letting the multitudes stream pastlike a soothing wind In my face.I wanted to feel the structureas it moved around meand myself inside itlike an alto inside four-part harmony,a pinball jostled between the alleys until I found my place.I wanted to hear every story.On buses and park benchespeople translated furiously for meinto French, into Spanish, into Garifuna.Museums magnified me.I breathed easier in those roomswhere the elusive present lingeredIn the echoes of the past.I wanted life to tower over me, to stand on corners where buildings with the skins of mirrors ricocheted and multiplied off each otherso I could be everywhere at once.What's a city? Twice each year the sun tries to grasp It, from low on the horizon, extending its arms, each spoke an ancient, toppled columnlying west to east, Illuminating all the frames.And now we too, at sunset, gather to rememberat every level—from balcony to mezzanine to orchestra pit, our windows thrown open like those on an Advent calendar in the depths on December,banging our earthly utensils till we become like sounding brass and tinkling cymbal, shouting our praise for this thing that's our own creation and for the deeds of the men and women as they set out to care for itbeneath unfathomable skies.