"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."

Alberto Stabile – The Garden and the Ash

This book took my heart, chewed it up, spit it back out, set it on fire, and then laid a flower on it. Although I was in Jerusalem almost twenty years after Alberto Stabile, in events closely related to another hotel, my life was intertwined with what had become the Colony and it is so difficult, in that very high expression of welcome and integration that hotel is by its mission, to describe the precise feeling that another world, of peace and coexistence, was possible. A feeling so intense that you want to shout it out and yet so delicate, so fragile, that you cannot even touch it or whisper it, because it would dissolve under the great weight of politics, of history, of the higher social implications.Yet this book tries, to describe that feeling, simultaneously on tiptoe and in apnea, through delicate portraits that give the impression of having been written in one night. That one great night that began with Rabin’s assassination and that the dawn of a new day never dissipated again.

Summertime

Omeros in the Caribbeans

Derek Walcott was a Saint Lucian poet, playwright, and painter, and one of the major voices of Caribbean literature. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1992, and his work often explores Caribbean history, identity, colonial inheritance, and the meeting of European and African

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books and literature

Ioanna Papadopoulou’s The Castaway and the Witch

I had a genuine “oh shit” moment when I read the author’s preface saying this was darker than “Winter Harvest” because – and I absolutely ADORED “Winter Harvest” – that was pitch-black dark. I thought “we’re all going to die”. This maybe has something to

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Summertime

The Path You Have to Sing

Alexis Wright‘s Carpentaria, an epic work set in a fictional town called Desperance, opens before there are any people in it at all: an ancestral serpent, “a creature larger than storm clouds,” descends from the stars and drags itself across the wet clay of the

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Omeros in the Caribbeans

Derek Walcott was a Saint Lucian poet, playwright, and painter, and one of the major voices of Caribbean literature. He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1992, and his work often explores Caribbean history, identity, colonial inheritance, and the meeting of European and African

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Ioanna Papadopoulou’s The Castaway and the Witch

I had a genuine “oh shit” moment when I read the author’s preface saying this was darker than “Winter Harvest” because – and I absolutely ADORED “Winter Harvest” – that was pitch-black dark. I thought “we’re all going to die”. This maybe has something to

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