Sigrid Nunez, The Friend, and Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World: The Slowly Emerging Story

Sigrid Nunez, The Friend, and Kazuo Ishiguro, An Artist of the Floating World: The Slowly Emerging Story

My neighbors have a new puppy, Gemma. I first learned about Gemma, though not in a way I could understand, from another long-time member of that family: Juliet, a friendly tabby who has a timeshare interest in the soft reading chairs on our back porch. She came running up to me, meowing wildly, as I was out for a walk. I petted her, but she continued complaining, looking over her shoulder, unable to calm down enough to roll on the sidewalk and allow me to stroke her ears. I said to her, “What is it, Juliet, are you sick, what’s the matter?” But of course she had no way of telling me what was really going on. After a few days of encountering Juliet in this agitated state, I finally met Gemma, an exuberant and tiny terrier mix, capable of leaping at least a couple of feet in the air in ecstatic greeting. She tied herself in wriggling knots, flinging herself at me and licking my hands, while my neighbor, holding her leash, both laughed and rolled her eyes.

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Zadie Smith, Grand Union, and E.M. Forster, Howard's End: People Watching

Zadie Smith, Grand Union, and E.M. Forster, Howard's End: People Watching

At this moment in history, many writers/readers, even the deep introverts among us, find ourselves wistful for people we know and don’t know, for crowds, festivals, the family on the next picnic blanket at the beach, literary festivals thick with subtext, game nights, dating, and family dinners, no matter how fraught. In this post, I thought I’d share a pair of people-watching paragraphs from a couple of beloved writers, Zadie Smith and E.M. Forster, both wonderful in their language and especially sharp and meticulous in their character portraits.

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Devi S. Laskar on Natalie Diaz's When My Brother Was an Aztec

Devi S. Laskar on Natalie Diaz's When My Brother Was an Aztec

(Guest post by Devi S. Laskar)

One of my favorite Natalie Diaz poems is her pantoum “My Brother at 3 a.m.,” in her first book, When My Brother Was An Aztec.

I am first a poet and I had the pleasure of being Natalie’s student for one day several years ago, in a workshop in Santa Cruz. She is a terrific teacher and she talked about perspective and writing practice and continuity. Pantoum is a favorite poetry form of mine, I love the way the lines are braided through the stanzas and how you as a writer have a chance to perform a bit of magic and change meaning or perspective. In Natalie’s poetry, I admire how she tackles difficult subjects. In the case of this pantoum, it’s drug addiction. The language is vivid and precise and she gets the pantoum to bend a little at the end so that we readers end up with two POVs and it’s pure poetic magic.

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Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House, and Ruth Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being: Explosion and Flight (An Introduction to the Marvelous Paragraph Project)

Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House, and Ruth Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being: Explosion and Flight (An Introduction to the Marvelous Paragraph Project)

In this time that’s like nothing we have seen before, it seems helpful to sometimes have small, specific things to concentrate on for a few minutes that have nothing to do with the news. And for those of us who love to read, that just might be a marvelous paragraph or two. A friend of mine once said, “I read for sentences,” which made me think about what I read for: characters, story, the problems we find ourselves in and have to navigate our way through, lives like or completely unlike our own (my friend reads for all of these too – she was making a dramatic point at the time). But I love splendid sentences too, and love them most when they’re in conversation with each other: a dialogue, an argument, a little dance. A paragraph might build up details, make and then undercut points, move deeper and deeper into an idea, or ricochet from one idea to another. This blog explores some favorite paragraphs and authors, looking at what they do and how.

To start off, here’s a paragraph that builds into an explosion, from the chapter “Dream House as Time Travel” in Carmen Maria Machado’s In the Dream House. The book traces the story of an abusive relationship, even as it pokes into all the corners of narrative possibility. With a mix of playful invention and anguish, the short chapters take on traditional and unexpected forms, themes, and literary tropes in this reinvention of the memoir.

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