Tag Archives: Literature

Prester John

We from the West believe that history stopped perhaps in Moscow, picking up again maybe in Beijing but probably more realistically in Tokyo. The expanse between, a wasteland. Stories of Siberian gulags and the endless windswept steppes. Then came Genghis … Continue reading

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American Writers in Istanbul

“Everybody is writing their Turkey books” Rose Macaulay once wrote in her lovely travel book Towers of Trebizond. This one is Kim Fortuny’s. Kim, it seems, is a professor of American Literature at a university in Istanbul. I love Istanbul … Continue reading

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Levy, Intellectuals and Paris

This should have been marketed and sold as a booklet. Essay selections rarely work in book form, few writers can pull this off and Bernard Henri Levy is no exception. I would have been disappointed, except Levy began the book … Continue reading

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The Pleasure of Ruins

There is something wondrously nostalgic about Rose Macaulay’s “Pleasure of Ruins”. Perhaps it is her tremendous learning. The book just drips arcane knowledge about a past long lost to us, but extraordinary in its power. We all love ruins, though … Continue reading

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Harsh Times

There’s a tragedy in Mario Vargas Llosa’s writing that is hard to endure. A brutality that is too common; a ridiculousness which might be funny if it were not so harsh and wicked. They are joyless novels, at least the … Continue reading

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On Vargas Llosa and Writing

What makes great writers great? I’ve often wondered that. I’ve stumbled across dusty stories once-translated and lost to time in the ancient bookstalls of Armenia that are breathtaking; then I try and re-read Hemingway every other year, realizing that life … Continue reading

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Sleepy Hollow

I went to Sleepy Hollow with my little boy this year. Washington Irving’s ancient home, nestled beside the great Hudson River where he wrote his legend two hundred years ago. We walked the ancient paths where once the old horse … Continue reading

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The 100

I rarely write reviews of television. If the makers don’t put much thought into creating it, why should I try to find meaning where there is none? I will invariably become disappointed. More so for Netflix – Obama’s pet Gramscian … Continue reading

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Grant Matevosyan

I love literature that is grounded. Stories that emerge from the darkened forests, crystal lakes and crisp mountain pastures where sheep are raised in the summer and which are lost to the forbidding snow, sequestered away and quiet during the … Continue reading

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“By far the best fiction I’ve ever read” she said

“The narrative is masterfully crafted, and I find it baffling the author is someone other than Charles himself. (…) I, Charles from the Camps, is by far the best piece of fiction I’ve ever read.” Read the full review below… … Continue reading

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