Do you ever have that feeling, sitting there, two hands on the steering wheel, that your arms could move, all by themselves, and drive you and your car and whoever is with you off the road, into the ditch, into that car next to you, into the line of oncoming traffic? Do you ever stare […]
After an absence whose days were full but not fertile, here are Kate Forsyth’s Bitter Greens, Playing House by Amy Choi, and the wonderful Adam Johnson’s The Orphan Master’s Son. Astute (one may say time-fortunate) readers may note the newish and natty little quote hanging around recently added reviews. This quaint folly is my editor’s […]
Memoir. It really should be avoided by all but those with the most interesting, important, timely, or unique stories. Oh well, tough. I just pulled another old writing exercise out of its box. It’s none of the above. This one’s being set free today because it’s my Superbowl story. It’s also an Ekka story. Does […]
