Samantha Hunt's Blog
September 15, 2023
Wild Swimming

On the dangers, joys, and damp insurgency of public water
Deakin, once stopped by a river keeper, was asked, “Does that fence mean anything to you?” Deakin leapt over the fence invoking Woody Guthrie’s oft-skipped verse, “A sign was painted said, private property. But on the backside, it didn’t say nothing. This land was made for you and me.” Deakin lived in a country with an established Right to Roam. He lived in a country with sensible gun laws. Any wild swimmer in America feels the tension of private property. My worst fears in plotting my own long swim come not from the dread of cold or pollution or drowning or exhaustion or sludge or algae or even water snakes but rather from the fear I’ll encounter an angry human with a gun. In Orion Magazine
June 9, 2022
The Wild Delirium of Loving Language

The sun will set soon. Birds come to the feeder. Each bird is magnificent. Each bird is weird. How did the birds get so weird? A bright red head, spiky tufts, yellow eyes, pink feet, hidden fluorescence, the ability to fly. How did the word “weird” get so weird? And my hands, they are also weird. I’m watching the weird world, the weird birds when a thought arrives from nowhere. What if I’ve been dead for a long time? What if I’ve been dead my whole life? If I am dead, the strangeness of existence is momentarily comprehensible.
April 11, 2022
Citizens of the Peace

Department of the Interior: What happens to the dirt, the trees, the birds, the people of a place where violence and war have raged for centuries, where people have been slaughtered, where people have been enslaved, brutalized, impoverished, incarcerated, and controlled in order to deny death?
An excerpt from The Unwritten Book in Orion Magazine.
March 23, 2022
Ghosts at the Liquor Store
When my oldest daughter was eight—near the same age I was when I watched my parents’ parties—she and I drove past a sign, “Spirit Shoppe.” “For a minute,” she said, “I thought we could buy a ghost there.” A sudden dawn. Yes, we could. Ghosts are exactly what we’re buying at the liquor store. Booze is haunted.
Ghosts at the Liquor Store, an excerpt from my new collection, The Unwritten Book, at the New Yorker.February 23, 2020
Go, Team

There was a woman, and everyone watched. Including me. We were at the fields where the kids play soccer. You know?”“I’m there three times a week.”“The place is surrounded by woods.”“I know. Three days a week. No joke. Were the kids playing?”“That’s why we noticed her. She walked across the field mid-game like she didn’t even see the rest of us and disappeared into the woods. The fireflies had started. Maybe 40 minutes before dark? The game must’ve been close to ending. In fact, it did end soon after.”“I was there,” another mother says. “I saw her go.”New story at The Atlantic Monthly.
September 11, 2019
Indelible in the Hippocampus

June 8, 2018
Tide is High

Tin House Books is republishing my first novel, The Seas, on July 10th. This time, new and improved! With an introduction by the unparalleled Maggie Nelson.
Boston, New York, Hudson Valley people, please come celebrate!
July 10, Oblong Books, Rhinebeck, NYJuly 12, Greenlight Books, Brooklyn, NY July 17, Newtonville Books, Newtonville, MA
May 19, 2017
Don't Be Afraid

April 14, 2016
Ghost Books
December 29, 2015
New Book!
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