“A highlight of the month of December for my sisters and me, growing up in New York City in the 1960s and 1970s, was a trip downtown to breathe in the smoky caramel scent of chestnuts roasting on the tiny pushcarts of bundled-up street vendors, hear the jingling bells of Salvation Army Santas along…(Read More)
“A highlight of the month of December for my sisters and me, growing up in New York City in the 1960s and 1970s, was a trip downtown to breathe in the smoky caramel scent of chestnuts roasting on the tiny pushcarts of bundled-up street vendors, hear the jingling bells of Salvation Army Santas along…(Read More)
“She ordered me a lemonáda. For the next few weeks during that hot confusing summer, many years ago, this became our routine.” To read the rest of this personal essay, “Lemonáda,” about a summer I spent in Greece during a precarious moment in my youth — appearing in one of my all-time favorite…(Read More)
She was gracious, nonetheless, inviting me to take shelter under her parasol. I sat. She ordered me a lemonáda. For the next few weeks during that hot confusing summer, many years ago, this became our routine. To read the rest of this personal essay, “Lemonáda,” about a summer I spent in Greece during…(Read More)
“Just follow.” He took off, pushing the larger ferns from his face. There were two paths to choose from, both signposted but neither marked with a destination he recognized. Why not just write “Summit”? Or “Top”? Or the equivalent in Spanish, with altitude noted? The top was where everyone wanted to go. To read the…(Read More)
“Just follow.” He took off, pushing the larger ferns from his face. There were two paths to choose from, both signposted but neither marked with a destination he recognized. Why not just write “Summit”? Or “Top”? Or the equivalent in Spanish, with altitude noted? The top was where everyone wanted to go. To read the…(Read More)
Two Irish-American Harvard scholars travel to Albania to study the oral epic in the 1930s. (H stands for Homer.) The local authorities, however, become convinced they are spies while the local mayor’s bored wife is equally convinced they represent deliverance. This was the first Kadare novel I ever read and, as with others…(Read More)
In remote highlands of Albania, a young man fulfills his responsibilities in a long-running blood feud then hunkers down to face his own retaliatory murder after a customary thirty-day truce. As he awaits his fate, he catches the eye of a honeymooning couple from a more sophisticated locale, to devastating effect. Similar to…(Read More)
In an unnamed empire, all of the citizen’s dreams are collected, sorted, and interpreted in a sprawling central fortress, with the goal of identifying “master dreams” portentous of the Empire and monarch’s future. Young Mark-Alem initially feels lucky to have scored a job there. This Kadare novel was banned in Albania upon…(Read More)
“It means being able to see the forest for the trees, while still knowing the sound of the wind through their branches in deep winter, the color of their leaves in autumn, their smell in early spring. It means being able to recognize the universal that will make a story meaningful to others, while retaining…(Read More)
