Over the weekend, I’ve been reading Ananda Devi, recipient of the 2024 Neustadt Prize (which some call the American Nobel). Three of her books have made their way to me via various Ontario libraries this month: Eve Our of Her Ruins from Don Mills Library in Toronto, Manger L’Autre
Kaggsy’s and Lizzy’s fifth annual celebration of Indie publishers in the UK is a regular reminder to celebrate the independent voices in this industry. All month, I’ve been reading with this event in mind, and I am finishing just in time to contribute. (My first post was here. The
This year I am trying to read more deliberately whimsically. Go ahead and giggle, I know it’s ridiculous. Over the course of a reading lifetime, I’ve allowed some reading habits that I enjoyed to fall away, like reading with the seasons in mind. Like resolving to read something
On the second-last page of A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, George Saunders explains that writing the book turned out to be a chance to ask himself “again” and “at length” this question: “Do you still want to devote your life to fiction?” Spoiler: he does.
When I think about novellas I’ve enjoyed this year, I recall Poulomi Sanyal’s Colour Me Confounded (2017) and Kerry Trautman’s Irregulars (2023), their settings soaked with the ambiance of their main characters’ workplaces, whether a boardroom or a diner. And I think about Helen deWitt’s The English Understand Wool
