My Year (in books)

In January I read The Letters of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West, Ongoingness, and Hannah Sullivan’s Three Poems. January was too dark and a birthday of rain and cold and homesickness was too much. But in January H and I started to send moons to one another from across the world. It was usually in […]

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Are we still living on the island?

Written in the post-war period, and published during a time of nuclear tension, William Golding’s 1954 novel Lord of the Flies, explores notions of abandonment and home when “a pack of British boys” find themselves stranded on an island in the South Pacific. The isolated setting allows Golding to present the swift fall of these […]

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Summer’s reading

This summer of reading was not so much a summer (of sorts). It was a space of spaces—empty rooms and empty shelves in the packing and unpacking of our lives. It was six weeks of hazy reading, of not quite paying attention as my mind seemed to be always elsewhere. Wherever elsewhere may be—in bills […]

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I’m a hoe for Fitzcarraldo

Using such a word as hoe in the same line as Fitzcarraldo seems to go against the sleek and uniformed french flaps that make Fitzcarraldo iconic (are they iconic yet?), but hoe I am, and it rhymes, so call me hoe (thot!), and be done with it. Fitzcarraldo Editions, the house that publishes everything in […]

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