Margarito and the Snowman was published a scant few days before Dear Leader was, um—what’s that verb that rhymes with infected?
Objects in motionContinue reading “Objects in motion”
George Salis: Can you talk about your love of Gĩkũyũ, your native language? You started writing your fiction in English so do you still have a soft spot for English despite its connection to colonialism?Continue reading “Round the Decay of That Colossal Wreck: An Interview with Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o”
Bodies Melting in the Ironies of ReflectionContinue reading “Bodies Melting in the Ironies of Reflection”
My mother often emailsContinue reading “My mother often emails”
Wagner at the OperaContinue reading “Wagner at the Opera”
Between two dumpsters in his little cell, he crouched. Shrugged and coughed. The hiatus of night wore off. Unnuzzled into ache. More swarf belched up, nettled in his gorge. He’d been enwombed into this blood-drunk blightedness. Day again—he felt things begin to swivel down a drainhole. Cloudy brainlumps stalled and massed above him. Below, a pigeon hobbled. A backfire sponked. The pigeon flitted away. Soot-motes glinted down a crevice. Nitted feathers traced the eye’s deception, dove-gray to bottlegreen, as it flew beyond the circle of his sight.Continue reading “Unmeasured Ages”