Xu Xi Archive
Every once in a while the short story gets its moment in the literary spotlight. It happened in 2008 when Elizabeth Strout’s linked story collection, Olive Kitteridge, won the Pulitzer Prize; and again in 2013 when the Nobel Prize committee recognized Alice Munro’s lifetime achievement in the form.
Back to school because my lit, lit life leads me there, perhaps more often than I want. Bookstores used to be why writers traveled, but given the rise of E-Books, online book tours can be more efficient “travel.” Many festivals and writing conferences wouldn’t happen without university support, and
So I’m on my way from Melbourne to Sydney, ruminating on the global-lit journey that has brought me back to these two major Australian cities after 32 years. Here are two reasons: You’ve met Robin in my blog before—we’re counting the places in the world we’ve had a drink
So this past week that lit, lit life took me first to Bangkok and then to Kyoto, two cities where I’m decidedly “foreign” even though I am mistaken for “local.” But first a pause to recall Han Suyin who died at the age of 96. Never heard of her?
My aspiration in life is to loaf. These days, life seems to be much ado about aspiration, or so the brand-marketing-image-makers would have us believe. We aspire to fame (and living forever, as that song goes) and wealth, stardom for a second on YouTube, regardless. Me? I want, like
There was a time I traveled without checking in luggage. Business trips. Harrowing schedules. No time to wait at carousels when you could be speeding to your next meeting to harass a supplier or fawn over a client. Now that I’ve left that life behind in favor of this
Good morning. It’s a day for an air walk on that lit, lit sojourn. Coffee? Here’s the view above my tatami mat, one of Liu Zhen’s “Landscapes of the Mind,” a lacquer painting. Liu Zhen is a talented, and unusual, young (b. 1970) Shanghai-based artist. Unusual for his patience
I used to live in Singapore. In ’94, just before my first book was released, a corporation moved me to this tropical, island city-state. It still feels like home whenever I fly into Changi at the eastern end of the island. Prison neighborhood. The street where I lived. My
Shades of pink at Café Gray’s bar where I met the omnipresent Nigel Collett for drinks. Nigel fits comfortably into my lit, lit life. For one thing, we’re contemporaries. As much as I love writing “this younger writer,” as I did last blog, it’s reassuring to bump into others on
And then you say you will / And then you won’t . . . “Undecided” (1938) by Sid Robin & Charlie Shavers About itineraries, here’s Robin Hemley’s: He was going to stopover in Hong Kong, and then he wasn’t, and then he was, wasn’t, and finally did because a