I have let this blog grow stale. It sits here, drying out, gathering dust, forgotten, yet still getting it's little trickle of views somehow. Why do I keep it? Why not. I constantly ask myself why do I want to write? why? and I've still not got a clear answer. My words go into the …
Just now you still were, Bettina; I sense your presence. Does not the earth still bear your warmth? And do not the birds still leave a space for your voice? The dew is different, but the stars are still the stars of your nights. Or isn't the whole world in fact yours? For how often …
Trieste, by Daša Drndić
I read this book back in May, and I have had to get some distance from it before I could write about it. It was very affecting, upsetting, and disturbing, as one might expect a book with such subject matter to be. The book follows the life story of Haya Tedeschi, whose son was taken …
By hand part 2
It's been a couple months since I posted about a certain author that I was fascinated with, and how he wrote constantly in journals by hand. While this may be common for many of my favorite authors (such as J.A. Baker and his 6000 pages of journaling which were condensed later into the 200 page …
By hand
I recently came across this interview with Mircea Cărtărescu, the author of my most recent favorite book: Blinding. And I was stunned to find that his elaborate, beautiful, overwhelmingly stunning masterwork of prose was written by hand, in a journal, and barely changed from its original state: When we had those very pleasant talks in …
Jonas David 