Bellevue Literary Press

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Our Mission: Bellevue Literary Press is devoted to publishing literary fiction and nonfiction at the intersection of the arts and sciences because we believe that science and the humanities are natural companions for understanding the human experience.

Latest News

Come work with us! We’re looking for a Director of Development to help champion our mission publishing literature at the intersection of the arts and sciences. Apply by February 22, 2019.
“Tinkers Turns 10—And Stays Remarkable” Publishers Weekly celebrates the 10^th anniversary edition of Paul Harding’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel Tinkers.
Richard Wiley talks to the Tacoma News Tribune about Tacoma Stories and some of the city’s famous daughters (Rebecca Welles), infamous sons (Ted Bundy), and legendary watering holes.
“Who Gets to Use Black English?” John McWhorter, author of Talking Back, Talking Black, writes about African American Vernacular English (AAVE) in the Atlantic and discusses his op-ed on WNYC’s Brian Lehrer Show.
Read an excerpt from Jerome Charyn’s In the Shadow of King Saul: Essays on Silence and Song at the Literary Hub and find interviews with him about the collection in Publishers Weekly and Stay Thirsty Magazine.

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“With smaller print runs and often an intimate relationship with readers, these smaller houses are able to take bigger risks than their larger counterparts and are finding truly excellent writers outside the mainstream. Don’t miss works from Open Letter, Deep Vellum, Bellevue Literary Press, Catapult, Restless Books, Two Dollar Radio and Los Angeles’ Unnamed Press; like more established independents Graywolf and McSweeney’s, they are delivering so much genuinely exciting fiction that they make it look easy.”

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Carolyn Kellogg, Los Angeles Times

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From our Authors

Andrew Krivak

My mother was a great fence for books. She always had something she’d read and wanted me to read and so, when I’d visit, she would hold up her latest at the kitchen table over tea and say, “Read this yet?” like some guy with a coat full of watches. Everything from Augustine to Marilynne Robinson. And then, at that same table at another time, we would talk about what we’d read like a couple of wide-ranging literary critics. When I wrote The Sojourn I dedicated it to her. Without her I would never have made sense of the stories my grandmother told of the old country in her beautiful but impenetrable Slovak, which my mother translated for me.

Recently, in her days of decline, my mother and I often talked more about writing than about reading. She seemed happy that I had made that step to becoming a writer, and I let her know it was because of all those books she had foisted on me, and let me love. One thing I won’t forget was a letter she wrote after she had read The Sojourn in manuscript form and knew that I was having a hard time selling it. “Don’t give up,” she said, as any mother would to her son, of course. But then she wrote: “There is a publisher out there who will find this as beautiful as it is true. There has to be. Because that’s how stories survive.”

My mother and friend passed away in her sleep, but not without first having laid hands on The Sojourn published by Bellevue Literary Press. “I told you,” she said when she saw it. “It’s beautiful. They love books there, don’t they?” I told her they did. “Good,” she said. “Then we’ll survive.” Please help support Bellevue Literary Press. Thank you.

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