Ingrid Rojas Contreras lives in San Francisco with her books. Her debut novel Fruit of the Drunken Tree is forthcoming from Doubleday (Summer 2018). Find more at www.ingridrojascontreras.com.
By Ingrid Rojas Contreras
This Heartrending Poetry Debut Follows Four Generations from Japan to America
Brunch with Isabel Allende and Other Book Events to Look Forward to This Fall
This Art Project Coins New Terms for Our Modern-Day Anxieties and Hopes
Heather June Gibbons' Poetry Will Make You Put Your Phone Down
The Stellar Novel 'Blue Self-Portrait' is an Antidote to a Restless Mind
Tommy Orange's Novel 'There There' is a Gripping Portrait of Oakland
In 'Belly Up,' Rita Bullwinkel Contends with the Bizarre Experience of Having a Body
Beach Reads and Beyond: Five Literary Events to Make Your Summer Sizzle
'A Lucky Man': A Feminist-Approved Book About Masculinity
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"content": "\u003cp>One lives many lives as an immigrant. When you’re a first-generation immigrant, your life fractures in two—there was the life you left behind and the new one that emerges in your adopted land. When you are second generation, the fractures of your parents’ lives extend into yours: their reasons for leaving become an integral part of how you understand yourself, akin to a salient physical trait—a mole, say, or dimples in your cheeks.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are many books that explore the experiences of first- and second-generation immigrants, together and separately. \u003cem>Isako Isako\u003c/em>, the debut poetry collection by Bay Area writer Mia Ayumi Malhotra, is different: it follows four generations of Japanese and Japanese-American women through polyphonic perspectives that explore home, identity and history and its racial and political overtones.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13840571\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13840571\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-800x590.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"590\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-800x590.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-160x118.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-768x566.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-1020x752.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-960x708.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-240x177.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-375x276.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-520x383.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees.jpg 1141w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Japanese Americans in front of poster with internment orders. Records of War Relocation Authority. Wikimedia Commons.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Malhotra boldly begins with a reproduction of the Civilian Exclusion Order No. 34, which ordered that all people of Japanese ancestry (both citizens and immigrants) be taken to internment camps. I can’t say that I had ever sat down to read this order from beginning to end, but this time I did. “Evacuees must carry with them on departure for the Assembly Center… (a) Bedding and linens (no mattress) for each member of the family; (b) Toilet articles… (c) Extra clothing…; (d) Sufficient knives, forks, spoons, plates, bowls, cups.” The nightmarishly trivial use of “evacuees” in this order has its own chilling effect—a reminder of how a government’s language can so easily be deployed against its own people.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Isako Isako\u003c/i> was born from stories Malhotra heard from her maternal grandmother, who lived in Japan during World War II and the ensuing American occupation, later immigrating to the U.S. Malhotra’s grandmother also told stories about her own mother (Malhotra’s great-grandmother). In “History of Isako,\u003cem>” \u003c/em>one of the most stunning poems in the collection, the speaker of the poem begins by telling her own story:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>During war Isako is lady watch city fade to rubble. Is lady hide in Kobe church as air raid siren shrill overhead. Is lady strain for voice of emperor on radio then sell kimono and shred potato to rice.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The preternatural present tense in this poem and the broken English creates a delicate and strained aura, all the more so, as we follow Isako’s journey into the U.S.:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Is lady cross Pacific on S.S. Cleveland. Isako is lady turn from train track when spat upon. Is lady in Arkansas desert. Is lady wipe dust from tin plate in mess hall. Is released from camp to board Whites Only train.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>In the second part of this poem, we hear from the writer of Isako’s story: “When I write about Isako I use words like ______ and ________ knowing such designations make no sense. I use these details to make Isako at home on a page that is otherwise white.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The passage is a stunning choice to move us through history and the inheritance of history in this manner. The writer of Isako’s story is aware of the foreignness of the white page, the strain of race and the impossibility of Isako to be really at home in its landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It is beautiful to see Isako and the writer of Isako’s story together in the next poem—even if in it, Isako is scolding her granddaughter for not knowing how to fold a kimono properly. But our sense of ease does not last for long. Next, in the final part of the poem, Malhotra remixes the language of the Civilian Exclusion Order which we had encountered earlier, and does so to unnerving proportions:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>instructions to all living persons Japanese in the following ancestry area persons alien will be evacuated pursuant to from non-alien ancestry noon provisions this dated 12 o’clock… evacuees must carry property following them on departure for Assembly Center between hours the 8AM the 5PM bedding (no mattress) linens for members each family articles toilet for members each of family will be packaged marked plainly with name and owner numbered in accordance\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The strength in \u003cem>Isako Isako\u003c/em> lies in the tributaries of its different voices, how they are arranged together, how they echo each other and, finally, how they run aground into the same voice, the same story.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What is the connection between the sparkling syntax of a young girl living her childhood in America and the broken English of her immigrant grandmother? Isako says in one poem: “Behind barbed wire all question run to one.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The images I encountered in this book, and especially Isako’s voice, will remain with me for quite some time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Mia Ayumi Malhotra reads at E.M. Wolfman General Interest Small Bookstore (410 13th St.) in Oakland on Sept. 22 with Bonnie Chau and Ploi Pirapokin. Details \u003ca href=\"http://wolfmanhomerepair.com/event/2018/9/22/all-roads-lead-to-blood-bonnie-chau-with-kundiman-fellows\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>One lives many lives as an immigrant. When you’re a first-generation immigrant, your life fractures in two—there was the life you left behind and the new one that emerges in your adopted land. When you are second generation, the fractures of your parents’ lives extend into yours: their reasons for leaving become an integral part of how you understand yourself, akin to a salient physical trait—a mole, say, or dimples in your cheeks.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There are many books that explore the experiences of first- and second-generation immigrants, together and separately. \u003cem>Isako Isako\u003c/em>, the debut poetry collection by Bay Area writer Mia Ayumi Malhotra, is different: it follows four generations of Japanese and Japanese-American women through polyphonic perspectives that explore home, identity and history and its racial and political overtones.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13840571\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13840571\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-800x590.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"590\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-800x590.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-160x118.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-768x566.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-1020x752.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-960x708.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-240x177.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-375x276.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees-520x383.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/09/Japanese_internment_detainees.jpg 1141w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Japanese Americans in front of poster with internment orders. Records of War Relocation Authority. Wikimedia Commons.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Malhotra boldly begins with a reproduction of the Civilian Exclusion Order No. 34, which ordered that all people of Japanese ancestry (both citizens and immigrants) be taken to internment camps. I can’t say that I had ever sat down to read this order from beginning to end, but this time I did. “Evacuees must carry with them on departure for the Assembly Center… (a) Bedding and linens (no mattress) for each member of the family; (b) Toilet articles… (c) Extra clothing…; (d) Sufficient knives, forks, spoons, plates, bowls, cups.” The nightmarishly trivial use of “evacuees” in this order has its own chilling effect—a reminder of how a government’s language can so easily be deployed against its own people.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>Isako Isako\u003c/i> was born from stories Malhotra heard from her maternal grandmother, who lived in Japan during World War II and the ensuing American occupation, later immigrating to the U.S. Malhotra’s grandmother also told stories about her own mother (Malhotra’s great-grandmother). In “History of Isako,\u003cem>” \u003c/em>one of the most stunning poems in the collection, the speaker of the poem begins by telling her own story:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>During war Isako is lady watch city fade to rubble. Is lady hide in Kobe church as air raid siren shrill overhead. Is lady strain for voice of emperor on radio then sell kimono and shred potato to rice.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The preternatural present tense in this poem and the broken English creates a delicate and strained aura, all the more so, as we follow Isako’s journey into the U.S.:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Is lady cross Pacific on S.S. Cleveland. Isako is lady turn from train track when spat upon. Is lady in Arkansas desert. Is lady wipe dust from tin plate in mess hall. Is released from camp to board Whites Only train.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>In the second part of this poem, we hear from the writer of Isako’s story: “When I write about Isako I use words like ______ and ________ knowing such designations make no sense. I use these details to make Isako at home on a page that is otherwise white.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The passage is a stunning choice to move us through history and the inheritance of history in this manner. The writer of Isako’s story is aware of the foreignness of the white page, the strain of race and the impossibility of Isako to be really at home in its landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It is beautiful to see Isako and the writer of Isako’s story together in the next poem—even if in it, Isako is scolding her granddaughter for not knowing how to fold a kimono properly. But our sense of ease does not last for long. Next, in the final part of the poem, Malhotra remixes the language of the Civilian Exclusion Order which we had encountered earlier, and does so to unnerving proportions:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>instructions to all living persons Japanese in the following ancestry area persons alien will be evacuated pursuant to from non-alien ancestry noon provisions this dated 12 o’clock… evacuees must carry property following them on departure for Assembly Center between hours the 8AM the 5PM bedding (no mattress) linens for members each family articles toilet for members each of family will be packaged marked plainly with name and owner numbered in accordance\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The strength in \u003cem>Isako Isako\u003c/em> lies in the tributaries of its different voices, how they are arranged together, how they echo each other and, finally, how they run aground into the same voice, the same story.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What is the connection between the sparkling syntax of a young girl living her childhood in America and the broken English of her immigrant grandmother? Isako says in one poem: “Behind barbed wire all question run to one.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The images I encountered in this book, and especially Isako’s voice, will remain with me for quite some time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Mia Ayumi Malhotra reads at E.M. Wolfman General Interest Small Bookstore (410 13th St.) in Oakland on Sept. 22 with Bonnie Chau and Ploi Pirapokin. Details \u003ca href=\"http://wolfmanhomerepair.com/event/2018/9/22/all-roads-lead-to-blood-bonnie-chau-with-kundiman-fellows\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Fall is the best season for reading—there are no oily thumbprints to stain your pages, no sand getting stuck in the crevice of your book spine and no squinting at a glaringly sunlit page. Instead, time is spent indoors, fireside, donning comfortable sweaters, sipping tea. If squinting happens, it is only in accompaniment to the silent judgment of an author’s unfortunate word choice.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This fall, the Bay Area is exceptionally wealthy in books and literary events. With new releases by Eileen Myles and Juan Gabriel Vásquez and exciting engagements—including a brunch with Chilean author Isabel Allende—this fall’s literary season is not one to miss. Here are some of the highlights from the coming months.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>September\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003ca href=\"http://www.zspace.org/aboutwordforword/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Word for Word\u003c/a>\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Z Space. Sept. 1–2, 8pm. \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13839469 aligncenter\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-800x333.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-160x67.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-768x320.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-240x100.png 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-375x156.png 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-520x216.png 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I read a lot this summer and am looking forward to taking a break with Z Space’s \u003cem>Word for Word—\u003c/em>a series where a short story is turned into a play and performed in full (in whatever way possible). \u003cem>Word for Word \u003c/em>celebrates its 25th anniversary with performances of Tobias Wolff’s \u003cem>Deep Kiss \u003c/em>and George Saunders’ \u003cem>Victory Lap\u003c/em>. Both are stories about teenage lives and that incandescent moment when everything changes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Gabriela Alemán reads from \u003cem>Poso Wells\u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>.\u003cbr>\nSept. 4, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100812940\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">City Lights Booksellers\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ecuadorian author Gabriela Alemán’s celebrates her first work in English at City Lights. \u003cem>Poso Wells\u003c/em> is a noir, feminist and absurdist eco-thriller about corruption, exploitation and a woman on the run.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Vanessa Hua in conversation with Lydia Kiesling. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Sept. 6, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"http://www.citylights.com/bookstore/?fa=event&event_id=3253\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">City Lights Booksellers\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839479 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river-160x243.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"243\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river-160x243.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river-240x364.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river.jpg 313w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In one of my favorite pairings of the season, Vanessa Hua and Lydia Kiesling will read from their debuts, both of which touch on different aspects of motherhood. \u003cem>A River of Stars\u003c/em> tells the story of a Chinese woman who comes to the U.S. to a secret maternity center seeking citizenship for her unborn baby; in \u003cem>The Golden State, \u003c/em>a young mother careens on the verge of a breakdown.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Brunch with Isabel Allende.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Sept. 15, 10:30am. \u003ca href=\"https://www.bookpassage.com/event/literary-brunch-isabel-allende-midst-winter-corte-madera-store\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Book Passage\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839485 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-160x209.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"209\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-160x209.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-800x1046.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-768x1004.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-918x1200.jpg 918w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-960x1255.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-240x314.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-375x490.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-520x680.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145.jpg 962w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is not a drill: you can get brunch with Isabel Allende. Allende is celebrating the paperback release of \u003cem>In the Midst of Winter\u003c/em>. If this event sells out before you can snag a ticket, Allende will be in conversation with Khaled Hosseini on Friday, Sept. 28 at 7pm, also at \u003ca href=\"https://www.bookpassage.com/event/khaled-hosseini-isabel-allende-sea-prayer-corte-madera-store\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Book Passage\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Nomadic Press chapbook release party.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Sept. 22, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/191304171447195\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Nomadic Press\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-13839480\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-800x287.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"287\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-800x287.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-160x57.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-768x276.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1020x366.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1200x431.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1920x690.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1180x424.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-960x345.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-240x86.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-375x135.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-520x187.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chapbooks Nomadic Press puts out are a joy to read. So save all your money so you can have your pick at Nomadic Press’ fall release party for their chapbook collection: it includes \u003cem>Ordinary Villains\u003c/em> by EK Keith, \u003cem>Adaptations\u003c/em> by Emily Pinkerton,\u003cem> By the Lemon Tree\u003c/em> by Keenan Norris,\u003cem> How it Happens\u003c/em> by Joyce E. Young,\u003cem> If the Color is Fugitive\u003c/em> by Sara Mithra, \u003cem>When a Purple Rose Blooms\u003c/em> by Jenee Darden and\u003cem> An Object in Motion\u003c/em> by Patrick Newson.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>October\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13839483 size-thumbnail alignright\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins-160x243.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"243\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins-160x243.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins-240x365.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins.jpg 263w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003cstrong>Juan Gabriel presents \u003cem>The Shape of Ruins\u003c/em>. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct. 1, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-juan-gabriel-vasquez-0\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Green Apple Books\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Start your October right by securing your copy of \u003cem>The Shape of the Ruins\u003c/em>, the latest by Juan Gabriel Vásquez. This novel distills and expands on the questions and myths surrounding two different assassinations of important Colombian leaders in the ’80s. In \u003cem>The Shape of the Ruins, \u003c/em>Vásquez seems to be asking how life relates to history and facts and conspiracy, where none are obviously demarcated.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839484 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-160x241.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"241\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-160x241.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-800x1207.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-768x1159.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-1020x1539.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-795x1200.jpg 795w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-1180x1781.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-960x1449.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-240x362.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-375x566.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-520x785.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home.jpg 1400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Reyna Grande in conversation with Carolina De Robertis.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct. 3 at 7:30pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/1848137401947135/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Bindery\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Reyna Grande is the acclaimed author of \u003cem>The Distance Between Us\u003c/em>, a heartfelt and dazzling memoir about crossing the border when she was nine years old. In her latest memoir, \u003cem>A Dream Called Home\u003c/em>, Grande writes with searing wit and candor about pursuing her dreams, finding a home in words and the quest to build a home that will endure.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct 10. 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.jccsf.org/arts-ideas/nadya-tolokonnikova/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Jewish Community Center of San Francisco\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here’s a chance to hear Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot speak about her 10 rules of revolution. Tolokonnikova was imprisoned for 18 months by the Russian government when she and other Pussy Riot members performed an anti-Putin protest song in a Moscow church. Her new book, \u003cem>Read & Riot\u003c/em>, is a Pussy Riot guide to activism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Kiese Laymon in conversation with Tongo Eisen Martin.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct. 25, \u003cspan class=\"date-display-range\">\u003cspan class=\"date-display-start\">6:30pm.\u003c/span>\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>\u003cspan class=\"date-display-range\">\u003cspan class=\"date-display-start\"> \u003ca href=\"http://poetry.sfsu.edu/events/29098-common-writers-series-kiese-laymon-and-tongo-eisen-martin-reading-their-work\">Marcus Books\u003c/a>.\u003c/span>\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Beloved writer Kiese Laymon will be reading with Tongo Eisen Martin for this evening curated by San Francisco State University’s In Common writer series. In \u003cem>Heavy: An American Memoir, \u003c/em>Laymon turns his attention to his coming of age in Mississippi, a lifetime of secrets and what his and his family’s failed attempts to attain freedom and love mean to the nation.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>November\u003cstrong>\u003cem>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839499 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution-160x240.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"240\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution-240x359.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution.jpg 334w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Eileen Myles reads new poetry. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Nov. 7, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.ptreyesbooks.com/event/eileen-myles\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Point Reyes Bookstore\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ve waited eleven years for a new poetry collection by Eileen Myles, and I couldn’t be more excited. In \u003cem>Evolution,\u003c/em> Myles writes with trademark wit and candor about travel, the aisles of Target and an utopian future where Myles is elected president.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Micah Perks in conversation with Kate Schatz and Lucy Jane Bledsoe.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Nov. 7, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/426512097848699/\">The Bindery\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>True Love and Other Dreams of Miraculous Escape \u003c/em>is a strange and hilarious wonder. These interlinked stories explore the eventualities of escape, of running from and toward love. Micah Perks is the author of the novels \u003cem>What Becomes Us, We Are Gathered Here \u003c/em>and the memoir \u003cem>Pagan Time\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Nicole Chung in conversation with Daniel Mallory Ortberg. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Nov. 12, 7pm. \u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>\u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-nicole-chung-and-daniel-mallory-ortberg\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Green Apple Books\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839503 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow-160x242.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"242\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow-160x242.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow-240x362.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow.jpg 265w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/strong>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s been considerable excitement over Nicole Chung’s debut memoir, \u003cem>All You Can Ever Know, \u003c/em>and with good reason. In this stunning memoir, Chung questions her origin story and searches for the people who gave her up for adoption. It is a book full of flights of insight, beauty and so much heart. At Green Apple Books, Daniel Mallory Ortberg, the author of Slate’s \u003ca href=\"http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Dear Prudence\u003c/a> advice column, will join her in conversation.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>December\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Chaya Bhuvaneswar reads from \u003cem>White Dancing Elephants\u003c/em>. Dec, 6, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"http://www.citylights.com/bookstore/?fa=event&event_id=3292\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">City Lights Booksellers\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Winner of the Dzanc Books Short Story Collection Prize, \u003cem>White Dancing Elephants \u003c/em>is urgent, captivating and deeply evocative. In seventeen stories, Chaya Bhuvaneswar explores experiences of harassment and violence from the points of view of women of color.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_11092805\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-11092805\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/Ta-Nehisi-Coatescrop-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"Writer Ta-Nehisi Coates speaks onstage at the New Yorker Festival 2015\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/Ta-Nehisi-Coatescrop.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/Ta-Nehisi-Coatescrop-400x225.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Writer Ta-Nehisi Coates speaks onstage at the New Yorker Festival 2015 \u003ccite>(Photo: Anna Webber/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>A conversation with Ta-Nehisi Coates. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Dec. 17 at 7pm. \u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>\u003ca href=\"https://www.jccsf.org/arts-ideas/ta-nehisi-coates/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Jewish Community Center of San Francisco\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I can’t think of a better way to finish your literary year than by going to see Ta-Nehisi Coates. With his incisive journalism and best-selling books (\u003cem>Between the World and Me \u003c/em>and \u003cem>We Were Eight Years in Power\u003c/em>), Coates has shifted national debate over and over again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"title": "Brunch with Isabel Allende and Other Book Events to Look Forward to This Fall | KQED",
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"headline": "Brunch with Isabel Allende and Other Book Events to Look Forward to This Fall",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Fall is the best season for reading—there are no oily thumbprints to stain your pages, no sand getting stuck in the crevice of your book spine and no squinting at a glaringly sunlit page. Instead, time is spent indoors, fireside, donning comfortable sweaters, sipping tea. If squinting happens, it is only in accompaniment to the silent judgment of an author’s unfortunate word choice.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This fall, the Bay Area is exceptionally wealthy in books and literary events. With new releases by Eileen Myles and Juan Gabriel Vásquez and exciting engagements—including a brunch with Chilean author Isabel Allende—this fall’s literary season is not one to miss. Here are some of the highlights from the coming months.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>September\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003ca href=\"http://www.zspace.org/aboutwordforword/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Word for Word\u003c/a>\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Z Space. Sept. 1–2, 8pm. \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13839469 aligncenter\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-800x333.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-160x67.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-768x320.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-240x100.png 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-375x156.png 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/AnniversayBanner25yearsfinal-520x216.png 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I read a lot this summer and am looking forward to taking a break with Z Space’s \u003cem>Word for Word—\u003c/em>a series where a short story is turned into a play and performed in full (in whatever way possible). \u003cem>Word for Word \u003c/em>celebrates its 25th anniversary with performances of Tobias Wolff’s \u003cem>Deep Kiss \u003c/em>and George Saunders’ \u003cem>Victory Lap\u003c/em>. Both are stories about teenage lives and that incandescent moment when everything changes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Gabriela Alemán reads from \u003cem>Poso Wells\u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>.\u003cbr>\nSept. 4, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100812940\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">City Lights Booksellers\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Ecuadorian author Gabriela Alemán’s celebrates her first work in English at City Lights. \u003cem>Poso Wells\u003c/em> is a noir, feminist and absurdist eco-thriller about corruption, exploitation and a woman on the run.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Vanessa Hua in conversation with Lydia Kiesling. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Sept. 6, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"http://www.citylights.com/bookstore/?fa=event&event_id=3253\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">City Lights Booksellers\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839479 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river-160x243.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"243\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river-160x243.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river-240x364.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/river.jpg 313w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In one of my favorite pairings of the season, Vanessa Hua and Lydia Kiesling will read from their debuts, both of which touch on different aspects of motherhood. \u003cem>A River of Stars\u003c/em> tells the story of a Chinese woman who comes to the U.S. to a secret maternity center seeking citizenship for her unborn baby; in \u003cem>The Golden State, \u003c/em>a young mother careens on the verge of a breakdown.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Brunch with Isabel Allende.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Sept. 15, 10:30am. \u003ca href=\"https://www.bookpassage.com/event/literary-brunch-isabel-allende-midst-winter-corte-madera-store\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Book Passage\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839485 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-160x209.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"209\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-160x209.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-800x1046.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-768x1004.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-918x1200.jpg 918w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-960x1255.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-240x314.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-375x490.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145-520x680.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/isabel-e1534882835145.jpg 962w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is not a drill: you can get brunch with Isabel Allende. Allende is celebrating the paperback release of \u003cem>In the Midst of Winter\u003c/em>. If this event sells out before you can snag a ticket, Allende will be in conversation with Khaled Hosseini on Friday, Sept. 28 at 7pm, also at \u003ca href=\"https://www.bookpassage.com/event/khaled-hosseini-isabel-allende-sea-prayer-corte-madera-store\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Book Passage\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Nomadic Press chapbook release party.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Sept. 22, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/191304171447195\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Nomadic Press\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-13839480\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-800x287.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"287\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-800x287.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-160x57.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-768x276.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1020x366.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1200x431.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1920x690.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-1180x424.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-960x345.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-240x86.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-375x135.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press-520x187.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/nomadic-press.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chapbooks Nomadic Press puts out are a joy to read. So save all your money so you can have your pick at Nomadic Press’ fall release party for their chapbook collection: it includes \u003cem>Ordinary Villains\u003c/em> by EK Keith, \u003cem>Adaptations\u003c/em> by Emily Pinkerton,\u003cem> By the Lemon Tree\u003c/em> by Keenan Norris,\u003cem> How it Happens\u003c/em> by Joyce E. Young,\u003cem> If the Color is Fugitive\u003c/em> by Sara Mithra, \u003cem>When a Purple Rose Blooms\u003c/em> by Jenee Darden and\u003cem> An Object in Motion\u003c/em> by Patrick Newson.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>October\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13839483 size-thumbnail alignright\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins-160x243.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"243\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins-160x243.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins-240x365.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/shapeofruins.jpg 263w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003cstrong>Juan Gabriel presents \u003cem>The Shape of Ruins\u003c/em>. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct. 1, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-juan-gabriel-vasquez-0\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Green Apple Books\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Start your October right by securing your copy of \u003cem>The Shape of the Ruins\u003c/em>, the latest by Juan Gabriel Vásquez. This novel distills and expands on the questions and myths surrounding two different assassinations of important Colombian leaders in the ’80s. In \u003cem>The Shape of the Ruins, \u003c/em>Vásquez seems to be asking how life relates to history and facts and conspiracy, where none are obviously demarcated.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839484 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-160x241.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"241\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-160x241.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-800x1207.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-768x1159.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-1020x1539.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-795x1200.jpg 795w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-1180x1781.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-960x1449.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-240x362.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-375x566.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home-520x785.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/a-dream-called-home.jpg 1400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Reyna Grande in conversation with Carolina De Robertis.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct. 3 at 7:30pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/1848137401947135/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">The Bindery\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Reyna Grande is the acclaimed author of \u003cem>The Distance Between Us\u003c/em>, a heartfelt and dazzling memoir about crossing the border when she was nine years old. In her latest memoir, \u003cem>A Dream Called Home\u003c/em>, Grande writes with searing wit and candor about pursuing her dreams, finding a home in words and the quest to build a home that will endure.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct 10. 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.jccsf.org/arts-ideas/nadya-tolokonnikova/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Jewish Community Center of San Francisco\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here’s a chance to hear Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot speak about her 10 rules of revolution. Tolokonnikova was imprisoned for 18 months by the Russian government when she and other Pussy Riot members performed an anti-Putin protest song in a Moscow church. Her new book, \u003cem>Read & Riot\u003c/em>, is a Pussy Riot guide to activism.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Kiese Laymon in conversation with Tongo Eisen Martin.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Oct. 25, \u003cspan class=\"date-display-range\">\u003cspan class=\"date-display-start\">6:30pm.\u003c/span>\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>\u003cspan class=\"date-display-range\">\u003cspan class=\"date-display-start\"> \u003ca href=\"http://poetry.sfsu.edu/events/29098-common-writers-series-kiese-laymon-and-tongo-eisen-martin-reading-their-work\">Marcus Books\u003c/a>.\u003c/span>\u003c/span>\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Beloved writer Kiese Laymon will be reading with Tongo Eisen Martin for this evening curated by San Francisco State University’s In Common writer series. In \u003cem>Heavy: An American Memoir, \u003c/em>Laymon turns his attention to his coming of age in Mississippi, a lifetime of secrets and what his and his family’s failed attempts to attain freedom and love mean to the nation.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>November\u003cstrong>\u003cem>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839499 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution-160x240.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"240\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution-240x359.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/evolution.jpg 334w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/em>\u003c/strong>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Eileen Myles reads new poetry. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Nov. 7, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.ptreyesbooks.com/event/eileen-myles\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Point Reyes Bookstore\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ve waited eleven years for a new poetry collection by Eileen Myles, and I couldn’t be more excited. In \u003cem>Evolution,\u003c/em> Myles writes with trademark wit and candor about travel, the aisles of Target and an utopian future where Myles is elected president.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Micah Perks in conversation with Kate Schatz and Lucy Jane Bledsoe.\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Nov. 7, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/426512097848699/\">The Bindery\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>True Love and Other Dreams of Miraculous Escape \u003c/em>is a strange and hilarious wonder. These interlinked stories explore the eventualities of escape, of running from and toward love. Micah Perks is the author of the novels \u003cem>What Becomes Us, We Are Gathered Here \u003c/em>and the memoir \u003cem>Pagan Time\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Nicole Chung in conversation with Daniel Mallory Ortberg. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Nov. 12, 7pm. \u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>\u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-nicole-chung-and-daniel-mallory-ortberg\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Green Apple Books\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003cem>\u003cstrong>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright wp-image-13839503 size-thumbnail\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow-160x242.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"160\" height=\"242\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow-160x242.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow-240x362.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/allyoucaneverknow.jpg 265w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 160px) 100vw, 160px\">\u003c/strong>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s been considerable excitement over Nicole Chung’s debut memoir, \u003cem>All You Can Ever Know, \u003c/em>and with good reason. In this stunning memoir, Chung questions her origin story and searches for the people who gave her up for adoption. It is a book full of flights of insight, beauty and so much heart. At Green Apple Books, Daniel Mallory Ortberg, the author of Slate’s \u003ca href=\"http://www.slate.com/articles/life/dear_prudence.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Dear Prudence\u003c/a> advice column, will join her in conversation.\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>December\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Chaya Bhuvaneswar reads from \u003cem>White Dancing Elephants\u003c/em>. Dec, 6, 7pm. \u003ca href=\"http://www.citylights.com/bookstore/?fa=event&event_id=3292\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">City Lights Booksellers\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Winner of the Dzanc Books Short Story Collection Prize, \u003cem>White Dancing Elephants \u003c/em>is urgent, captivating and deeply evocative. In seventeen stories, Chaya Bhuvaneswar explores experiences of harassment and violence from the points of view of women of color.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_11092805\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-11092805\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/Ta-Nehisi-Coatescrop-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"Writer Ta-Nehisi Coates speaks onstage at the New Yorker Festival 2015\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/Ta-Nehisi-Coatescrop.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2015/11/Ta-Nehisi-Coatescrop-400x225.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Writer Ta-Nehisi Coates speaks onstage at the New Yorker Festival 2015 \u003ccite>(Photo: Anna Webber/Getty Images)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>A conversation with Ta-Nehisi Coates. \u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003cstrong>Dec. 17 at 7pm. \u003c/strong>\u003cstrong>\u003ca href=\"https://www.jccsf.org/arts-ideas/ta-nehisi-coates/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">Jewish Community Center of San Francisco\u003c/a>.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I can’t think of a better way to finish your literary year than by going to see Ta-Nehisi Coates. With his incisive journalism and best-selling books (\u003cem>Between the World and Me \u003c/em>and \u003cem>We Were Eight Years in Power\u003c/em>), Coates has shifted national debate over and over again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>“Is there a word for the kind of fatigue that comes from looking at the news on your phone? Where it feels like, as you scroll, the life is just draining out of you?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is what I asked The Bureau of Linguistical Reality, a pair of artists who frequently host pop-ups at unlikely locations like subway stations, museums and even climate talks in Paris. They sit behind a desk, donning eyeglasses (with no lenses, since they are a faux bureaucracy) and outdated safari outfits, engaging passersby in conversations about the way language shapes our understanding of the world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Bureau is an art project by Alicia Escott and Heidi Quante, whose mission is to explore and name modern feelings and experiences for which we currently don’t have terms. “We’re using humor to talk about some of the hardest, darkest, most difficult things we’re living through as a species,” Escott says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13838438\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13838438\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-800x533.jpeg\" alt=\"Heidi Quante (left) and Alicia Escott (right) talking to participants. \" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-800x533.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-160x107.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-768x512.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1020x680.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1200x800.jpeg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1920x1280.jpeg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1180x787.jpeg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-960x640.jpeg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-240x160.jpeg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-375x250.jpeg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-520x347.jpeg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0.jpeg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Heidi Quante (left) and Alicia Escott (right) talking to participants. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Bureau of Linguistical Reality)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Escott tells me that during one of the Bureau’s recent “field studies” (or salons with hand-picked participants) exploring the experience of informational overload, the word “intramerged” was drafted. It describes the feelings that arise from scrolling through the “algorithmically curated images of black bodies bleeding or refugees fleeing next to images of friends, art openings or babies.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Quante, who looks lost in thought, says she’d like a more sinister-sounding word for what I’m describing and launches into a description of leeches. “Leeches have an anticoagulant, so that you don’t sense their presence,” she explains. “They bleed you out, and you continue to bleed even after you remove them. Maybe that’s similar.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is the brilliance with which The Bureau of Linguistical Reality works. Whether it’s one-on-one, through “field studies,” their “mobile field office” or online, the Bureau facilitates linguistic conversations so that—in naming our modern ailments, hopes and circumstances—we can take the first step in initiating a cultural shift.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Quante says, “How does social change happen? When an individual is not alone in their thinking, and a word unites their thinking to other people, and suddenly an experience is no longer a private thought, but a social concern. Now more than ever, we need neologisms for what we’re going through socially, politically and environmentally.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13838439\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 552px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13838439\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02.jpg\" alt='The Bureau of Linguistical Reality \"looking for words.\" ' width=\"552\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02.jpg 552w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-160x232.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-240x348.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-375x543.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-520x754.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 552px) 100vw, 552px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Bureau of Linguistical Reality “looking for words.” \u003ccite>(Courtesy of The Bureau of Linguistical Reality)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Bureau of Linguistical Reality has coined such urgently needed terms as “\u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/portfolio/blissonance/\">blissonance\u003c/a>“(for when you are out in nature, feeling bliss, but you know you are potentially destroying the environment with your being there), “\u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/portfolio/slow-ennuipocalypse/\">ennuipocalypse\u003c/a>“(for a particularly slow doomsday that occurs on a day-to-day time scale) and “\u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/portfolio/epoquetude/\">epoquetude\u003c/a>“(“the reassuring awareness that while humanity may succeed in destroying itself, the Earth will certainly survive us, as it has survived many other cataclysms”).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Quante’s and Escott’s backgrounds include social justice, environmentalism, human rights work, anthropology, language, design and art. Fittingly, they do not think of these practices as separate. “It’s not just CO2 in the air that is the problem,” Escott says. “It’s also histories of colonialism and capitalism. We point the finger at the underlying problem but not the disease. The way we treat each other, ourselves and the planet is all interconnected.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This effort for cross-pollinating thinking when it comes to reflecting on modern experience is something that makes The Bureaus’ neologisms that much more special.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13838446\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13838446\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-800x510.jpg\" alt='The Bureau of Linguistical Reality \"looking for words.\" ' width=\"800\" height=\"510\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-160x102.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-768x490.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-240x153.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-375x239.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-520x332.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Bureau of Linguistical Reality “looking for words.” \u003ccite>(Courtesy of The Bureau of Linguistical Reality)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Quante tells me about an artist who wanted to coin a term for the experience of walking down the street as a black person in fear of getting jumped by a cop while others are proselytizing that climate change is the biggest challenge (and actively ignoring the fact that personal safety in the climate is the biggest challenge for black people). As is sometimes the case, the Bureau has been working on this word for some time. “I just thought that was so beautiful, and that is the power of language,” she says. “You can create a word to educate people about your reality, and when you do, the burden of going through the experience is taken off, and someone outside that experience has the opportunity to understand it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coining new words is not the only effort The Bureau of Linguistical Reality is undertaking. They are also questioning old words. For example, they argue that climate change should be “climate chaos,” and that the phrase “throw it away” should be retired all together. “There is no ‘away,'” Quante explains. “By using this term, you’re creating a false idea of a mythic ‘away.’ Unless we change our we’re not breaking from the mistakes of our past.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Related to that, we question why don’t we have more words for our hope of the future?” Escott asks. “Our culture has all these words for doomsday—end of days, Armageddon, apocalypse—but the only word we have for a positive future in English is utopia, which comes hand in hand with dystopia. Neologisms are important, because words have the ability to change the shapes of our thoughts.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Anyone can shape culture,” Quante adds. “Language is a beautiful way for people to realize that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Bureau is seeking input on another ongoing and currently unnamed term. “The definition is this idea that you’ve received a misdiagnosis that you are mentally sick or ill, when the truth is that you’re a healthy, sentient being responding to a sick and ill society,” Escott explains.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If this article gave you some ideas and you’d like to contribute to create this new word, The Bureau accepts submissions through their \u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/submit-a-new-word/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">website\u003c/a> for neologisms, definitions and an unlimited number of synonyms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for me, I think I am ready to submit a word for consideration. I looked up the root for leech. It is lyce. The root for news is nova. That feeling of the vampire drain that comes from looking at the news on your phone? Perhaps we can call it “lycenovascroll.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Catch the Bureau of Linguistical Reality at their Mobile Field Office at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts on Sept. 15–16. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>“Is there a word for the kind of fatigue that comes from looking at the news on your phone? Where it feels like, as you scroll, the life is just draining out of you?”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is what I asked The Bureau of Linguistical Reality, a pair of artists who frequently host pop-ups at unlikely locations like subway stations, museums and even climate talks in Paris. They sit behind a desk, donning eyeglasses (with no lenses, since they are a faux bureaucracy) and outdated safari outfits, engaging passersby in conversations about the way language shapes our understanding of the world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Bureau is an art project by Alicia Escott and Heidi Quante, whose mission is to explore and name modern feelings and experiences for which we currently don’t have terms. “We’re using humor to talk about some of the hardest, darkest, most difficult things we’re living through as a species,” Escott says.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13838438\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13838438\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-800x533.jpeg\" alt=\"Heidi Quante (left) and Alicia Escott (right) talking to participants. \" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-800x533.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-160x107.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-768x512.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1020x680.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1200x800.jpeg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1920x1280.jpeg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-1180x787.jpeg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-960x640.jpeg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-240x160.jpeg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-375x250.jpeg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0-520x347.jpeg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/0.jpeg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Heidi Quante (left) and Alicia Escott (right) talking to participants. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of the Bureau of Linguistical Reality)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Escott tells me that during one of the Bureau’s recent “field studies” (or salons with hand-picked participants) exploring the experience of informational overload, the word “intramerged” was drafted. It describes the feelings that arise from scrolling through the “algorithmically curated images of black bodies bleeding or refugees fleeing next to images of friends, art openings or babies.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Quante, who looks lost in thought, says she’d like a more sinister-sounding word for what I’m describing and launches into a description of leeches. “Leeches have an anticoagulant, so that you don’t sense their presence,” she explains. “They bleed you out, and you continue to bleed even after you remove them. Maybe that’s similar.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is the brilliance with which The Bureau of Linguistical Reality works. Whether it’s one-on-one, through “field studies,” their “mobile field office” or online, the Bureau facilitates linguistic conversations so that—in naming our modern ailments, hopes and circumstances—we can take the first step in initiating a cultural shift.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Quante says, “How does social change happen? When an individual is not alone in their thinking, and a word unites their thinking to other people, and suddenly an experience is no longer a private thought, but a social concern. Now more than ever, we need neologisms for what we’re going through socially, politically and environmentally.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13838439\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 552px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13838439\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02.jpg\" alt='The Bureau of Linguistical Reality \"looking for words.\" ' width=\"552\" height=\"800\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02.jpg 552w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-160x232.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-240x348.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-375x543.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_02-520x754.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 552px) 100vw, 552px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Bureau of Linguistical Reality “looking for words.” \u003ccite>(Courtesy of The Bureau of Linguistical Reality)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The Bureau of Linguistical Reality has coined such urgently needed terms as “\u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/portfolio/blissonance/\">blissonance\u003c/a>“(for when you are out in nature, feeling bliss, but you know you are potentially destroying the environment with your being there), “\u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/portfolio/slow-ennuipocalypse/\">ennuipocalypse\u003c/a>“(for a particularly slow doomsday that occurs on a day-to-day time scale) and “\u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/portfolio/epoquetude/\">epoquetude\u003c/a>“(“the reassuring awareness that while humanity may succeed in destroying itself, the Earth will certainly survive us, as it has survived many other cataclysms”).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Quante’s and Escott’s backgrounds include social justice, environmentalism, human rights work, anthropology, language, design and art. Fittingly, they do not think of these practices as separate. “It’s not just CO2 in the air that is the problem,” Escott says. “It’s also histories of colonialism and capitalism. We point the finger at the underlying problem but not the disease. The way we treat each other, ourselves and the planet is all interconnected.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This effort for cross-pollinating thinking when it comes to reflecting on modern experience is something that makes The Bureaus’ neologisms that much more special.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13838446\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13838446\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-800x510.jpg\" alt='The Bureau of Linguistical Reality \"looking for words.\" ' width=\"800\" height=\"510\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-160x102.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-768x490.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-240x153.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-375x239.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/08/Lookingforwords_3-520x332.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The Bureau of Linguistical Reality “looking for words.” \u003ccite>(Courtesy of The Bureau of Linguistical Reality)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Quante tells me about an artist who wanted to coin a term for the experience of walking down the street as a black person in fear of getting jumped by a cop while others are proselytizing that climate change is the biggest challenge (and actively ignoring the fact that personal safety in the climate is the biggest challenge for black people). As is sometimes the case, the Bureau has been working on this word for some time. “I just thought that was so beautiful, and that is the power of language,” she says. “You can create a word to educate people about your reality, and when you do, the burden of going through the experience is taken off, and someone outside that experience has the opportunity to understand it.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coining new words is not the only effort The Bureau of Linguistical Reality is undertaking. They are also questioning old words. For example, they argue that climate change should be “climate chaos,” and that the phrase “throw it away” should be retired all together. “There is no ‘away,'” Quante explains. “By using this term, you’re creating a false idea of a mythic ‘away.’ Unless we change our we’re not breaking from the mistakes of our past.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Related to that, we question why don’t we have more words for our hope of the future?” Escott asks. “Our culture has all these words for doomsday—end of days, Armageddon, apocalypse—but the only word we have for a positive future in English is utopia, which comes hand in hand with dystopia. Neologisms are important, because words have the ability to change the shapes of our thoughts.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Anyone can shape culture,” Quante adds. “Language is a beautiful way for people to realize that.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Bureau is seeking input on another ongoing and currently unnamed term. “The definition is this idea that you’ve received a misdiagnosis that you are mentally sick or ill, when the truth is that you’re a healthy, sentient being responding to a sick and ill society,” Escott explains.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If this article gave you some ideas and you’d like to contribute to create this new word, The Bureau accepts submissions through their \u003ca href=\"https://bureauoflinguisticalreality.com/submit-a-new-word/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">website\u003c/a> for neologisms, definitions and an unlimited number of synonyms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for me, I think I am ready to submit a word for consideration. I looked up the root for leech. It is lyce. The root for news is nova. That feeling of the vampire drain that comes from looking at the news on your phone? Perhaps we can call it “lycenovascroll.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Catch the Bureau of Linguistical Reality at their Mobile Field Office at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts on Sept. 15–16. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Heather June Gibbons’s debut poetry book, \u003cem>Her Mouth as Souvenir\u003c/em>, is a study of distraction, mediated reality and our humdrum efforts to avoid reflection by filling our time with activity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here is a poetry collection to read instead of reaching for your phone—however, it is also a poetry collection that will make you \u003cem>want\u003c/em> to reach for your phone, as it reminds you quite eloquently of the fugue state of your mind as you caress your tiny screen. In either case, \u003cem>Her Mouth as Souvenir\u003c/em>, out this month, precisely delineates the modern state of frayed nerves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here is the opening:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>My project is plain persistence, self as spatula\u003cbr>\nscraping self as burned crud off skillet.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Personally, I don’t think more apt lines have been written to describe daily life in 2018. Divided into three sections, the poems in this book explore modern distraction and misperception, love and regret. Gibbons is at her best when she focuses her considerable powers on the boredom of inactivity or the strangeness of interacting with machines. In “Self-Portrait as Tongue” Gibbons writes:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>A strange kind of stress\u003cbr>\nwaving my hands back and forth\u003cbr>\nin front of a touch-free dispenser\u003cbr>\nwaiting for its sensor to sense me\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>This kind of low-key anxiety runs through the whole collection. As in the excerpt above, Gibbons’s images usually carry something of the surreal in them, even though they seem quite ordinary at face value.\u003cbr>\n\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-13837136\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-800x1236.jpg\" alt=\"Cover of 'Her Mouth as Souvenir' by Heather June Gibbons.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1236\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-800x1236.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-160x247.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-768x1187.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-776x1200.jpg 776w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-240x371.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-375x580.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-520x804.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir.jpg 825w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gibbons is a poet who can make words turn at their heels, so that the ordinary comes to wrestle with the routine terror of the ungraspable. Those moments where the unknown darts through aren’t always triggered by technology. In “Dusting,” for example, the act of cleaning a dark room becomes something else when the light turns on and the speaker of the poem realizes:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>it was filthy, there were\u003cbr>\nsigns of me everywhere\u003cbr>\nfootprints in the dust\u003cbr>\nchalk smears in the shape\u003cbr>\nof my hand, tracks from\u003cbr>\nmy knees from where\u003cbr>\nI had been crawling—\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Elsewhere in the book, Gibbons describes scanning the horizon, “weary of parallax.” Parallax is a term for native error in perception—a thing seen from different angles appears to be at a different location. When you close one eye and look at an object, it is rooted in place. But if you switch and close the other eye, the object appears to move. Many poems in this connection have parallax as a centering question. In that regard, they are all wonderful.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Is there a parallax in how we view ourselves in different scenarios? Here is Gibbons again:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>I like to imagine I’m getting smarter now\u003cbr>\nthat I know things like the heart is mostly water,\u003cbr>\nbut I still get carded buying cigarettes after yoga.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I know, I’m trying. At night, my neighborhood\u003cbr>\nis very quiet but for the occasional lunatic\u003cbr>\nsetting fire to a trashcan and a pack of girls\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>whose hyperbolic gestures of inebriated\u003cbr>\naffection I watch from my window.\u003cbr>\nWill my body gnarl and yellow? Silly question.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The answer seems to be yes. Yes, our bodies will gnarl and yellow. Yes, there is a parallax to everything.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Heather June Gibbons celebrates her release July 18 at the Bindery in San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.booksmith.com/event/bindery-launch-heather-june-gibbons-her-mouth-souvenir\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Heather June Gibbons’s debut poetry book, \u003cem>Her Mouth as Souvenir\u003c/em>, is a study of distraction, mediated reality and our humdrum efforts to avoid reflection by filling our time with activity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here is a poetry collection to read instead of reaching for your phone—however, it is also a poetry collection that will make you \u003cem>want\u003c/em> to reach for your phone, as it reminds you quite eloquently of the fugue state of your mind as you caress your tiny screen. In either case, \u003cem>Her Mouth as Souvenir\u003c/em>, out this month, precisely delineates the modern state of frayed nerves.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here is the opening:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>My project is plain persistence, self as spatula\u003cbr>\nscraping self as burned crud off skillet.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Personally, I don’t think more apt lines have been written to describe daily life in 2018. Divided into three sections, the poems in this book explore modern distraction and misperception, love and regret. Gibbons is at her best when she focuses her considerable powers on the boredom of inactivity or the strangeness of interacting with machines. In “Self-Portrait as Tongue” Gibbons writes:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>A strange kind of stress\u003cbr>\nwaving my hands back and forth\u003cbr>\nin front of a touch-free dispenser\u003cbr>\nwaiting for its sensor to sense me\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>This kind of low-key anxiety runs through the whole collection. As in the excerpt above, Gibbons’s images usually carry something of the surreal in them, even though they seem quite ordinary at face value.\u003cbr>\n\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-13837136\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-800x1236.jpg\" alt=\"Cover of 'Her Mouth as Souvenir' by Heather June Gibbons.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1236\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-800x1236.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-160x247.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-768x1187.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-776x1200.jpg 776w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-240x371.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-375x580.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir-520x804.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/her-mouth-as-souvenir.jpg 825w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Gibbons is a poet who can make words turn at their heels, so that the ordinary comes to wrestle with the routine terror of the ungraspable. Those moments where the unknown darts through aren’t always triggered by technology. In “Dusting,” for example, the act of cleaning a dark room becomes something else when the light turns on and the speaker of the poem realizes:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>it was filthy, there were\u003cbr>\nsigns of me everywhere\u003cbr>\nfootprints in the dust\u003cbr>\nchalk smears in the shape\u003cbr>\nof my hand, tracks from\u003cbr>\nmy knees from where\u003cbr>\nI had been crawling—\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Elsewhere in the book, Gibbons describes scanning the horizon, “weary of parallax.” Parallax is a term for native error in perception—a thing seen from different angles appears to be at a different location. When you close one eye and look at an object, it is rooted in place. But if you switch and close the other eye, the object appears to move. Many poems in this connection have parallax as a centering question. In that regard, they are all wonderful.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Is there a parallax in how we view ourselves in different scenarios? Here is Gibbons again:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>I like to imagine I’m getting smarter now\u003cbr>\nthat I know things like the heart is mostly water,\u003cbr>\nbut I still get carded buying cigarettes after yoga.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I know, I’m trying. At night, my neighborhood\u003cbr>\nis very quiet but for the occasional lunatic\u003cbr>\nsetting fire to a trashcan and a pack of girls\u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>whose hyperbolic gestures of inebriated\u003cbr>\naffection I watch from my window.\u003cbr>\nWill my body gnarl and yellow? Silly question.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The answer seems to be yes. Yes, our bodies will gnarl and yellow. Yes, there is a parallax to everything.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Heather June Gibbons celebrates her release July 18 at the Bindery in San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.booksmith.com/event/bindery-launch-heather-june-gibbons-her-mouth-souvenir\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Whether it’s the warm weather, the annoying loudness of neighbors or, I don’t know, the daily horrors in the news, sitting down with a book has never seemed more difficult.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the past few weeks, I have opened many astounding novels to just stare at their pages. My eyes act of their own accord. When encountering a period, they refuse to go on. Though I urge them to continue, they seem to mock me and even, I imagine, light a cigarette. My mind, following suit, fleets away.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13836068\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13836068\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-1200x674.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-1180x663.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-960x539.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-520x292.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre.jpg 1680w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Author of three novels, Noémi Lefebvre studied music for ten years. She has a PhD in music and nationality. Blue Self-Portrait is her first novel.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The narrator of \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em> by Noémi Lefebvre understands very well what it’s like to try to read when the mind insists on overactive restlessness:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>I did my best to lose myself in my book, to become as one with the book, to think of nothing outside it, to feel nothing except what was sensed by my eyes on the paper but of course I could see myself clearly trying to forget myself and trying to become as one and dissolve myself so really I wasn’t absorbed in anything, was becoming nothing and could feel nothing at all.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Translated by Sophie Lewis, \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em> is the most recent release by Oakland-based publishing house \u003ca href=\"https://www.transitbooks.org/\">Transit Books\u003c/a>—and it is a godsend.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s also a book with very unusual punctuation. A slim novel, \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em> sings in an endless arrangement of commas, semi-colons, dashes and, like a great musical epic, it is punctuated by the great cymbal crash of periods sparingly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the span of a flight from Berlin to Paris (a mere hour and forty minutes), a hilariously obsessive narrator combs through every gesture, facial tick and word uttered (and not uttered) in her short romantic interaction with a pianist in Berlin—which she initiates by assaulting the pianist with a “flood of verbiage” after a performance. She comments on his playing, on Beethoven, and miraculously stops herself just before explaining to the virtuoso how to better his performance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Our narrator, you see, knows nothing about music, and she suffers from a self-described case of motormouth. “[It] was all coming back to me now in the plane between one cloud and the next,” Lefebvre writes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>…a stroke of luck that I’d stopped myself just in time, I uttered my notorious Ich habe zu viel gesprochen for it was true, I had said too much, so much too much that I had to proclaim this brand-new truth the very moment it occurred to me; my noble pianist: no, not at all, it’s quite all right, he sweetly replied, warmly replied, even though it wasn’t fine, not only not fine but catastrophic, so catastrophic as to be irreparable, besides I didn’t repair anything but on the contrary promptly went and dug myself in deeper: of course I had to interrupt again, when I had only just said Ich habe zu viel gesprochen, I didn’t pause and count to ten, not to ten nor to any lesser number, I didn’t count at all; I just had to go on and on…\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The narrator’s inability to reign in her tongue is a constant source of embarrassment for her, and constant source of entertainment for us. But beneath the constantly running motor of hilarious verbosity, a rich tapestry of ideas develops. Aided by observations of the narrator’s in-flight surroundings—her sister seated next to her, the landscape below—Lefebvre is able to work in profound meditations on the Third Reich’s influence on music, women’s place in culture and art-making and Arnold Schoenberg, with whom the pianist is obsessed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13836081\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13836081\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-800x1066.jpg\" alt=\"'Blue Self-Portrait' by Arnold Schoenberg.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1066\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-800x1066.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-768x1023.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-1020x1359.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-901x1200.jpg 901w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-1180x1572.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-960x1279.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-240x320.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-375x500.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-520x693.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait.jpg 1182w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Blue Self-Portrait’ by Arnold Schoenberg. \u003ccite>(Arnold Schönberg Center/Wikimedia Commons)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Schoenberg, an Austrian-American composer, was the father of atonality—that is music that lacks a tonal center or key—and taught such modern masters as John Cage. Schoenberg immigrated to the U.S. with the rise of the Third Reich. He was also a painter, and his \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em>, which our narrator and her pianist to go see, triggers ideas about art in the face of political upheaval.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13836070\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13836070\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-800x376.jpg\" alt=\"The ending of Schoenberg's 'George Lieder' Op. 15/1 presents what would be an "extraordinary" chord in tonal music, without the harmonic-contrapuntal constraints of tonal music. \" width=\"800\" height=\"376\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-800x376.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-160x75.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-768x361.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-960x451.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-240x113.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-375x176.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-520x244.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end.jpg 970w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The ending of Schoenberg’s ‘George Lieder’ Op. 15/1 presents what would be an “extraordinary” chord in tonal music, without the harmonic-contrapuntal constraints of tonal music. \u003ccite>(Wikimedia Commons.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The the sped-up tempo of this narrative rises like fumes from the sentences in a literary accompaniment to Schoenberg’s musical innovation of atonality. It’s a devilishly smart construction on the part of Lefebvre, and an impressive \u003cem>mission accomplie\u003c/em> on the part of Lewis, her translator.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait \u003c/em>may be the antidote to our condition of having too many things on the mind—but I’d love to read it anytime, especially while on a plane. Go to this book for the lack of periods, but stay for deliciously absurd humor and the ideas just beneath the surface.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Read an excerpt of \u003c/em>Blue Self-Portrait\u003cem> \u003ca href=\"https://granta.com/blue-self-portrait/\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a bi-weekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Whether it’s the warm weather, the annoying loudness of neighbors or, I don’t know, the daily horrors in the news, sitting down with a book has never seemed more difficult.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the past few weeks, I have opened many astounding novels to just stare at their pages. My eyes act of their own accord. When encountering a period, they refuse to go on. Though I urge them to continue, they seem to mock me and even, I imagine, light a cigarette. My mind, following suit, fleets away.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13836068\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13836068\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-800x450.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"450\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-1020x573.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-1200x674.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-1180x663.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-960x539.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-240x135.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-375x211.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre-520x292.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/noemi-lefebvre.jpg 1680w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Author of three novels, Noémi Lefebvre studied music for ten years. She has a PhD in music and nationality. Blue Self-Portrait is her first novel.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The narrator of \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em> by Noémi Lefebvre understands very well what it’s like to try to read when the mind insists on overactive restlessness:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>I did my best to lose myself in my book, to become as one with the book, to think of nothing outside it, to feel nothing except what was sensed by my eyes on the paper but of course I could see myself clearly trying to forget myself and trying to become as one and dissolve myself so really I wasn’t absorbed in anything, was becoming nothing and could feel nothing at all.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Translated by Sophie Lewis, \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em> is the most recent release by Oakland-based publishing house \u003ca href=\"https://www.transitbooks.org/\">Transit Books\u003c/a>—and it is a godsend.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s also a book with very unusual punctuation. A slim novel, \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em> sings in an endless arrangement of commas, semi-colons, dashes and, like a great musical epic, it is punctuated by the great cymbal crash of periods sparingly.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the span of a flight from Berlin to Paris (a mere hour and forty minutes), a hilariously obsessive narrator combs through every gesture, facial tick and word uttered (and not uttered) in her short romantic interaction with a pianist in Berlin—which she initiates by assaulting the pianist with a “flood of verbiage” after a performance. She comments on his playing, on Beethoven, and miraculously stops herself just before explaining to the virtuoso how to better his performance.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Our narrator, you see, knows nothing about music, and she suffers from a self-described case of motormouth. “[It] was all coming back to me now in the plane between one cloud and the next,” Lefebvre writes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>…a stroke of luck that I’d stopped myself just in time, I uttered my notorious Ich habe zu viel gesprochen for it was true, I had said too much, so much too much that I had to proclaim this brand-new truth the very moment it occurred to me; my noble pianist: no, not at all, it’s quite all right, he sweetly replied, warmly replied, even though it wasn’t fine, not only not fine but catastrophic, so catastrophic as to be irreparable, besides I didn’t repair anything but on the contrary promptly went and dug myself in deeper: of course I had to interrupt again, when I had only just said Ich habe zu viel gesprochen, I didn’t pause and count to ten, not to ten nor to any lesser number, I didn’t count at all; I just had to go on and on…\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>The narrator’s inability to reign in her tongue is a constant source of embarrassment for her, and constant source of entertainment for us. But beneath the constantly running motor of hilarious verbosity, a rich tapestry of ideas develops. Aided by observations of the narrator’s in-flight surroundings—her sister seated next to her, the landscape below—Lefebvre is able to work in profound meditations on the Third Reich’s influence on music, women’s place in culture and art-making and Arnold Schoenberg, with whom the pianist is obsessed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13836081\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13836081\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-800x1066.jpg\" alt=\"'Blue Self-Portrait' by Arnold Schoenberg.\" width=\"800\" height=\"1066\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-800x1066.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-768x1023.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-1020x1359.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-901x1200.jpg 901w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-1180x1572.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-960x1279.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-240x320.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-375x500.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait-520x693.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Blaues_Selbstportrait.jpg 1182w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Blue Self-Portrait’ by Arnold Schoenberg. \u003ccite>(Arnold Schönberg Center/Wikimedia Commons)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Schoenberg, an Austrian-American composer, was the father of atonality—that is music that lacks a tonal center or key—and taught such modern masters as John Cage. Schoenberg immigrated to the U.S. with the rise of the Third Reich. He was also a painter, and his \u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait\u003c/em>, which our narrator and her pianist to go see, triggers ideas about art in the face of political upheaval.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13836070\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13836070\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-800x376.jpg\" alt=\"The ending of Schoenberg's 'George Lieder' Op. 15/1 presents what would be an "extraordinary" chord in tonal music, without the harmonic-contrapuntal constraints of tonal music. \" width=\"800\" height=\"376\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-800x376.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-160x75.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-768x361.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-960x451.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-240x113.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-375x176.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end-520x244.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Schoenberg_-__George_Lieder__Op._15-1_end.jpg 970w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">The ending of Schoenberg’s ‘George Lieder’ Op. 15/1 presents what would be an “extraordinary” chord in tonal music, without the harmonic-contrapuntal constraints of tonal music. \u003ccite>(Wikimedia Commons.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The the sped-up tempo of this narrative rises like fumes from the sentences in a literary accompaniment to Schoenberg’s musical innovation of atonality. It’s a devilishly smart construction on the part of Lefebvre, and an impressive \u003cem>mission accomplie\u003c/em> on the part of Lewis, her translator.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Blue Self-Portrait \u003c/em>may be the antidote to our condition of having too many things on the mind—but I’d love to read it anytime, especially while on a plane. Go to this book for the lack of periods, but stay for deliciously absurd humor and the ideas just beneath the surface.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Read an excerpt of \u003c/em>Blue Self-Portrait\u003cem> \u003ca href=\"https://granta.com/blue-self-portrait/\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a bi-weekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"slug": "tommy-oranges-novel-there-there-is-a-gripping-portrait-of-oakland",
"title": "Tommy Orange's Novel 'There There' is a Gripping Portrait of Oakland",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cem>There There \u003c/em>is Tommy Orange’s debut novel. It’s a book that feels like a city. Its chapters follow multiple generations of Native Americans who’ve made their way to Oakland; the characters’ storylines progress, at clipping speed, to one moment that will change all of them. There is a profound subtext to the novel—that of place and what it means to belong somewhere when you’ve arrived uprooted.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the prologue, Orange writes, “We’ve been moving for a long time, but the land moves with you like memory… We came to know the downtown Oakland skyline better than we did any sacred mountain range, the redwoods in the Oakland hills better than any other deep wild forest.” Bold and ambitious, \u003cem>There There \u003c/em>is a book that leaves the reader resonating with its language and depth long after one closes its cover. I talked to Tommy Orange about masks, erasure, Oakland and, of course, writing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835117\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835117\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-800x582.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"582\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-800x582.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-160x116.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-768x559.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-1020x742.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-1200x873.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-1180x858.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-960x698.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-240x175.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-375x273.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-520x378.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange.jpg 1500w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Tommy Orange. \u003ccite>(Elena Seibert)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Where and how do you write?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I don’t know that I have any specific kind of “where” or “how” anymore. By this I mean, I don’t currently have a routine and haven’t for a little while, so it’s kind of a “whenever and however I can” situation. When I have had a routine, I usually include running as part of my writing process. I’ll try to run for an hour and, if I’m lucky, I’ll have anywhere between several to dozens of ideas toward writing or solutions to problems I have for whatever I’m working on.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Then I’ll work at a coffee shop with noise cancellation headphones on. There’s something about everything being busy around me without me having to hear any of it, always with music on, writing for as long as I can. On a good day I’ll get two thousand words in. If I’m more in revision mode, I don’t have particular goals in mind, just time at the computer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At night, I work on the floor of my son’s room, prone, lying on my stomach with my elbows to prop me up. I’ve been writing this way for a long time. I’m not sure why. My favorite place to write is in a hotel room. There’s something about the cold quiet solitude of a hotel that’s really good for writing for me.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835121\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835121\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-800x668.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"668\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-800x668.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-160x134.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-768x641.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-1020x851.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-1200x1002.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-1180x985.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-960x801.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-240x200.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-375x313.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-520x434.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285.jpg 1361w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">MF Doom. \u003ccite>(Possan/Wikimedia Commons)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I love writing in hotels! It feels impersonal but clean—a perfect white room\u003c/strong>.\u003cstrong> As I was reading this beautiful, powerful work I kept thinking of one of your epigraphs. Javier Marías writes: “How can I not know today your face tomorrow, the face that is there already or is being forged beneath the face you show me or beneath the mask you are wearing, and which you will only show me when I am least expecting it?” \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I came to the United States from Colombia with a perfect American accent. I used to have a British accent because my first English teacher did. Then I had an American teacher who “corrected” the accent. It always interested me—the desire to correct something that was obviously a mask. Masks can feel safe, but also somewhat sinister. There is a theme in this book of being seen but not observed, inexact racism and erasure. Where you thinking about these things when you picked this epigraph out?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of my characters has fetal alcohol syndrome. You can see it on his face. He calls it the Drome. The Drome is a mask, and it’s the way people look but don’t look at him. The way people can’t look at him but he knows they know what they’re not looking at. This is the way it can feel being Native. People don’t want to talk about it. They want to look away. Pretend it isn’t there. There’s an insidious presence to that kind of absence. I like the way a mask can be more real than the person wearing it. Also he likes the rapper MF Doom, who too wears a mask.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>You’ve done something gorgeous with the structure of this novel. At times I want to call it a braid, but other times it feels like a spider’s web, each strand resonating with and sending mild disturbances to what came before. In the book you write of a mother not allowing her children to kill spiders: “Spiders carry miles of web in their bodies, miles of story, miles of potential home and trap. She said that’s what we are. Home and trap.” I am so taken with this passage. I’ve thought about it on and off since reading it. Could you tell me about how you came about the structure of the book, and maybe talk a little about spiders?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I thought of the structure for this novel from the very outset, before I even started writing it. It came to me in a single moment. It was the strangest thing: I could see the whole thing at once. I was convinced of it enough to write into it for the next six years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, making it work and successfully braiding, or webbing, the thing was difficult. I knew I wanted it to be a novel and not a collection of stories calling itself a novel. I didn’t think of a web while writing it. That sort of came about of its own accord. Maybe like making an accidentally cohesive mosaic. Not that I wasn’t putting in the work to make it cohesive. When you work with complexity and chaos that you do your best to wield, sometimes unintended patterns emerge.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regarding spiders, well, when I was researching, I came across this idea of miles of web in a spider’s body. There was just so much potential for metaphor there. And then, like one of the characters in the novel, I too pulled spider legs out of my own leg. It was crazy. There’s no explanation for it. I did a ton of research. Like my characters, I scoured the internet. When I asked my dad he told me it sounded like I got witched. I don’t know about any of that. What I did end up feeling was like I couldn’t not use it in the novel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835122\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835122\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-800x504.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"504\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-800x504.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-768x484.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-1020x642.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-1200x756.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-1180x743.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-960x605.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-240x151.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-375x236.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-520x327.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711.jpg 1853w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Like one of his characters in ‘There There,’ Tommy Orange once, inexplicably, pulled out a spiders leg out of his own leg. \u003ccite>(Wikimedia Commons)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Oakland is very present in this book. You spent a lot of time observing the city and working it into this novel—and I wondered, what does Oakland look to you now that you no longer live there?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I think not living in Oakland helped, in ways, to see it better. Being away from Oakland has always made me miss it in a way that makes me want to write about it as a way of reconnecting. I think writing about Oakland while being away from it and missing it was essential to writing this book. We’ve been trying to move back but haven’t been able to afford it. We can now, thanks to this book, so hopefully we’ll be living there again this year. Nothing would make me happier.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Have the rising rents destroyed the place that was\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oakland is in no way destroyed in my mind. It’s different. But it’s always been changing. The loss of people who called it home for so long due to rising rent and gentrification for me is the biggest loss. People being forced out of their homes. Out of Oakland. The loss of these people is irretrievable. But there are still plenty of people who go way back in Oakland, still people keeping it strong, and a thriving art scene, and a sense of pride in place, in this being home. It helps that the Warriors just won.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Tommy Orange reads from his novel at Bookshop Santa Cruz on June 18, and at the Jewish Community Center in San Francisco on Tuesday June 19. More information \u003ca href=\"https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/2156371/tommy-orange\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>There There \u003c/em>is Tommy Orange’s debut novel. It’s a book that feels like a city. Its chapters follow multiple generations of Native Americans who’ve made their way to Oakland; the characters’ storylines progress, at clipping speed, to one moment that will change all of them. There is a profound subtext to the novel—that of place and what it means to belong somewhere when you’ve arrived uprooted.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the prologue, Orange writes, “We’ve been moving for a long time, but the land moves with you like memory… We came to know the downtown Oakland skyline better than we did any sacred mountain range, the redwoods in the Oakland hills better than any other deep wild forest.” Bold and ambitious, \u003cem>There There \u003c/em>is a book that leaves the reader resonating with its language and depth long after one closes its cover. I talked to Tommy Orange about masks, erasure, Oakland and, of course, writing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cdiv>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835117\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835117\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-800x582.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"582\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-800x582.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-160x116.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-768x559.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-1020x742.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-1200x873.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-1180x858.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-960x698.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-240x175.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-375x273.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange-520x378.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/TOrange.jpg 1500w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Tommy Orange. \u003ccite>(Elena Seibert)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Where and how do you write?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I don’t know that I have any specific kind of “where” or “how” anymore. By this I mean, I don’t currently have a routine and haven’t for a little while, so it’s kind of a “whenever and however I can” situation. When I have had a routine, I usually include running as part of my writing process. I’ll try to run for an hour and, if I’m lucky, I’ll have anywhere between several to dozens of ideas toward writing or solutions to problems I have for whatever I’m working on.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Then I’ll work at a coffee shop with noise cancellation headphones on. There’s something about everything being busy around me without me having to hear any of it, always with music on, writing for as long as I can. On a good day I’ll get two thousand words in. If I’m more in revision mode, I don’t have particular goals in mind, just time at the computer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At night, I work on the floor of my son’s room, prone, lying on my stomach with my elbows to prop me up. I’ve been writing this way for a long time. I’m not sure why. My favorite place to write is in a hotel room. There’s something about the cold quiet solitude of a hotel that’s really good for writing for me.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835121\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835121\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-800x668.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"668\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-800x668.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-160x134.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-768x641.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-1020x851.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-1200x1002.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-1180x985.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-960x801.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-240x200.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-375x313.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285-520x434.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/MF_Doom_-_Hultsfred_2011-e1529079259285.jpg 1361w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">MF Doom. \u003ccite>(Possan/Wikimedia Commons)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I love writing in hotels! It feels impersonal but clean—a perfect white room\u003c/strong>.\u003cstrong> As I was reading this beautiful, powerful work I kept thinking of one of your epigraphs. Javier Marías writes: “How can I not know today your face tomorrow, the face that is there already or is being forged beneath the face you show me or beneath the mask you are wearing, and which you will only show me when I am least expecting it?” \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I came to the United States from Colombia with a perfect American accent. I used to have a British accent because my first English teacher did. Then I had an American teacher who “corrected” the accent. It always interested me—the desire to correct something that was obviously a mask. Masks can feel safe, but also somewhat sinister. There is a theme in this book of being seen but not observed, inexact racism and erasure. Where you thinking about these things when you picked this epigraph out?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of my characters has fetal alcohol syndrome. You can see it on his face. He calls it the Drome. The Drome is a mask, and it’s the way people look but don’t look at him. The way people can’t look at him but he knows they know what they’re not looking at. This is the way it can feel being Native. People don’t want to talk about it. They want to look away. Pretend it isn’t there. There’s an insidious presence to that kind of absence. I like the way a mask can be more real than the person wearing it. Also he likes the rapper MF Doom, who too wears a mask.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>You’ve done something gorgeous with the structure of this novel. At times I want to call it a braid, but other times it feels like a spider’s web, each strand resonating with and sending mild disturbances to what came before. In the book you write of a mother not allowing her children to kill spiders: “Spiders carry miles of web in their bodies, miles of story, miles of potential home and trap. She said that’s what we are. Home and trap.” I am so taken with this passage. I’ve thought about it on and off since reading it. Could you tell me about how you came about the structure of the book, and maybe talk a little about spiders?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I thought of the structure for this novel from the very outset, before I even started writing it. It came to me in a single moment. It was the strangest thing: I could see the whole thing at once. I was convinced of it enough to write into it for the next six years.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, making it work and successfully braiding, or webbing, the thing was difficult. I knew I wanted it to be a novel and not a collection of stories calling itself a novel. I didn’t think of a web while writing it. That sort of came about of its own accord. Maybe like making an accidentally cohesive mosaic. Not that I wasn’t putting in the work to make it cohesive. When you work with complexity and chaos that you do your best to wield, sometimes unintended patterns emerge.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regarding spiders, well, when I was researching, I came across this idea of miles of web in a spider’s body. There was just so much potential for metaphor there. And then, like one of the characters in the novel, I too pulled spider legs out of my own leg. It was crazy. There’s no explanation for it. I did a ton of research. Like my characters, I scoured the internet. When I asked my dad he told me it sounded like I got witched. I don’t know about any of that. What I did end up feeling was like I couldn’t not use it in the novel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13835122\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13835122\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-800x504.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"504\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-800x504.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-160x101.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-768x484.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-1020x642.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-1200x756.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-1180x743.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-960x605.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-240x151.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-375x236.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711-520x327.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/06/Spider_leg_250_08_Spider_leg_Arachnida-e1529079779711.jpg 1853w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Like one of his characters in ‘There There,’ Tommy Orange once, inexplicably, pulled out a spiders leg out of his own leg. \u003ccite>(Wikimedia Commons)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Oakland is very present in this book. You spent a lot of time observing the city and working it into this novel—and I wondered, what does Oakland look to you now that you no longer live there?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I think not living in Oakland helped, in ways, to see it better. Being away from Oakland has always made me miss it in a way that makes me want to write about it as a way of reconnecting. I think writing about Oakland while being away from it and missing it was essential to writing this book. We’ve been trying to move back but haven’t been able to afford it. We can now, thanks to this book, so hopefully we’ll be living there again this year. Nothing would make me happier.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Have the rising rents destroyed the place that was\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oakland is in no way destroyed in my mind. It’s different. But it’s always been changing. The loss of people who called it home for so long due to rising rent and gentrification for me is the biggest loss. People being forced out of their homes. Out of Oakland. The loss of these people is irretrievable. But there are still plenty of people who go way back in Oakland, still people keeping it strong, and a thriving art scene, and a sense of pride in place, in this being home. It helps that the Warriors just won.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Tommy Orange reads from his novel at Bookshop Santa Cruz on June 18, and at the Jewish Community Center in San Francisco on Tuesday June 19. More information \u003ca href=\"https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/2156371/tommy-orange\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003c/div>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"slug": "rita-bullwinkel-on-belly-up-and-the-bizarre-experience-of-having-a-body",
"title": "In 'Belly Up,' Rita Bullwinkel Contends with the Bizarre Experience of Having a Body",
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"headTitle": "In ‘Belly Up,’ Rita Bullwinkel Contends with the Bizarre Experience of Having a Body | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cp>This month, I’ve been devouring San Francisco writer Rita Bullwinkel’s \u003cem>Belly Up. \u003c/em>This short story collection is like a house with many stupendous rooms built from spare sentences and subtle obsessions that spiral into the best kinds of existential questions.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The result is a strange and masterful collection with a patina of what I would call dark humor, were it not so otherworldly. One woman tries to halve herself into two identities; a boy heeds the impulse to test the limits of his body; an employee at a fancy furniture showroom corresponds with an inmate about a house from his imagination; and another woman saves her hair in jars to see if she can document grief.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Belly Up\u003c/em> is definitely your next read. Bullwinkel and I corresponded about her influences, the alluring strangeness of the body and the limiting power of symbols.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13833868\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13833868 size-medium\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-800x694.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"694\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-800x694.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-160x139.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-768x666.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-1020x885.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-1200x1041.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-1180x1024.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-960x833.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-240x208.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-375x325.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-520x451.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel.jpg 1600w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rita Bullwinkel.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>To begin, I wondered about your process. How did this book of stories come together? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2014, I began to realize that nearly all of my writing was circling some of the same things. I wonder, Ingrid, if you too have felt this strange feeling? It happens in large and small ways in people’s writing. For instance, I appear to be smitten with grocery store lighting, as many of my characters find themselves in grocery stores, and quite like it there. But it happens thematically, too. \u003cem>Belly Up\u003c/em> has many ghosts and many couples eating. The boundary between death and life is often unclear. And so, in 2014, when I realized that many of my stories were circling some of the same things, it was then I knew that I had a book.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have a close friend, who is also a writer, whose characters always seem, to her dismay, to find beetles in their houses. And James Wood, in his wonderful book, \u003cem>How Fiction Works\u003c/em>, notes that Cormac McCarthy, three times, all in separate books, describes the image of blood filling up boots. Do you have these small and large things you’ve only later realized you are circling, Ingrid?\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13833874\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13833874\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-800x600.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1200x900.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1920x1440.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1180x885.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-960x720.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-375x281.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-520x390.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Interior of “Piggly Wiggly” grocery store, Port Gibson, Mississippi. Photo by Infrogmation. Wikimedia Commons.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I do. I find I circle around the possibility of unheard voices, unseen things or unheeded messages. Curtains too! I think I once watched as a curtain filled up with wind and it left me with an unshakeable feeling about my own temporality. What are some of your influences, either of the visual experiential type or the literary kind? \u003c/strong>\u003cstrong> \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I lived with a dancer for five years, who danced for the Metropolitan Opera. She danced for other people, too, including a choreographer named Shen Wei, with whom she did an installation in the New York Armory. My favorite piece she performed in was Nico Muhly’s \u003cem>Two Boys\u003c/em>. It got mixed reviews by critics, but it was brilliant. It was about two young boys falling in love over instant messenger. My roommate’s role was to embody, with a large group of dancers, the physical feeling of the Internet. It was amazing watching her weave in and out of the characters like mold or steam. I’m not sure if I am influenced by this performance, but I certainly enjoyed it, which is how I feel about my favorite authors, and the books I keep returning to to reread.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I was struck by the routine, delicious surrealism of your stories. In \u003cem>Belly Up\u003c/em> you give a lot of attention to personhood and the question of the body: can personhood be halved? Can it be made whole by another? Can it be cheapened and become furniture? Can the body document grief? They’re mesmerizing questions. What do you think it is about the body that draws you to write about it?\u003c/strong>\u003cstrong> \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I find the experience of having a body to be supremely bizarre. I think this is partly because I am a woman, and women are continually asked to account for, and be defined by, their human forms. Women walk through the world having their gender continually thrown at them. Sometimes I feel as if all the world is saying to me is, “Woman, woman, woman.” This feeling is intensely present when one is yelled at on the street, but it does also happen in conversation, which can be even more dismaying, because you’ve already committed to talking to the person who is dismaying you, and it is very disappointing to try and engage with a person, and a person with whom you hoped to have a good conversation, and then discover that all they have to say to you is, “Woman, woman, woman.” However, I do think that having a body, regardless of the gender people assign to you, is a universally clunky and strange thing with which to reckon. The limitations are so great and so infinite. I think athletes also feel this. There is truly a very small spectrum of things we can do with our human forms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>As a girl, too, what you know about your body can be so gory—you hear that at some point you will shed your insides and bleed them out, that at a later time you might be able to grow baby bones inside the darkness of your own belly. I also have to ask you about “Black Tongue.” This one’s a story where a young boy puts his tongue into an electric outlet. It is not often that I am riveted and glued to a story while simultaneously having to hide from it and read through the crevices of my fingers. Your imagery in this story is so stomach-turning, but so expertly conceived—I was repelled, fascinated and couldn’t get enough. You write about a mystifying human desire in this one—the impulse to hurt oneself or to ruin the body. What led you to that idea in particular? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was a very serious athlete for a large portion of my life, which was immensely destructive to my body. I don’t think “Black Tongue” is about the impulse to hurt oneself. I think it’s about testing the limits of what a body can withstand. Children do this often. We are all doing it in small ways all of the time. There is an ecstasy in pushing your body to the limit of something. I recently went swimming in the San Francisco Bay, with the beautiful poet and essayist Kate Greene. Swimming in forty degree water was painful, in many ways, but it was also electrifying. It was delightful to genuinely not know for how long my body could endure the cold. You know that feeling of when you’re arm goes to sleep because your lover is laying on it? And you can see your arm moving on the other side of your lover, but you can’t feel it? That’s what swimming in the winter San Francisco Bay, sans wetsuit, felt like. I could see my arms and my legs moving, but it felt like they were asleep.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13833875\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13833875\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-800x647.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"647\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-800x647.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-160x129.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-768x621.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1020x825.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1200x970.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1920x1552.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1180x954.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-960x776.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-240x194.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-375x303.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-520x420.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Plate 414. “Wiping body with towel”. Photo by “Eadweard Muybridge. Animal locomotion: an electro-photographic investigation of consecutive phases of animal movements. Wikimedia Commons.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>The strangeness of seeing your own body move while it is numb to you is the kind of observation this book is built on, and one of my favorite things about reading this work. I loved your story “Arms Overhead,” where two young girls have an academically rigorous and yet childlike discussion about their desire to be plants. Many of your characters navigate their realities via structures of symbols, sometimes seeking to become them. Do you feel that inhabiting a symbol is a way to achieve freedom from the body?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I think so. I think it is one avenue out. It’s so hard in fiction. Everyone is a symbol of something. Or their desires are symbols of refracted, mirror desires from real life that only exist in the author’s mind. I think it can be comforting to be a symbol, but also limiting. I am thinking of the maiden, mother, crone symbols, as particularly unfortunate symbols to be forced into inhabiting. I’d much father be forced to inhabit the symbol of the fool. But fools in literature, are almost always men. Where are our foolish women? We need a VIDA count for women fools.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong> I completely agree. Perhaps this is a void we can write into! I was also very excited to see Taryn Simon in the acknowledgments! She’s one of my favorite artists. I saw her photo exhibit \u003cem>A Living Man Declared Dead and Other Chapters\u003c/em> in New York—it is a work where Simon maps bloodlines and their related stories to a degree that I would call high literature. I’m so curious to know, is she an influence?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I am thrilled to learn that you, too, are an admirer of Taryn Simon’s! I think she is one of our most brilliant living artists. I, too, first discovered her work form the \u003cem>A Living Man Declared Dead and Other Chapters\u003c/em> show at the New York MOMA. I also believe her work to be high literature. I think that show could have been, or is in fact, a collection of stories. I am usually very suspect of work that makes use of text. Language can be a crutch for visual artists, something they employ to fill in the gaps of where their images are deficient, but this is completely the opposite with Simon’s images. In Simon’s work, the text is inextricable from the image. The sterility of her language, combined with the juxtaposition of her startling, beautiful images, elicits a profound emotional reaction from me.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>My favorite aspect of her work is her presentation of life as both mundane and extraordinary. You experience her work as a routine grid of data, but as you look closer, you are surprised by infinitely arresting details and you can never look away. I have similar feelings when reading your work. \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Your drawing of this parallel is a huge gift to me! Thank you.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935468\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Rita Bullwinkel reads from\u003c/em> Belly Up\u003cem> on June 13 at E.M. Wolfman Books in Oakland. Details \u003ca href=\"http://wolfmanhomerepair.com/event/2018/6/13/vi-khi-nao-jennifer-s-cheng-and-rita-bullwinkel\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Check us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>This month, I’ve been devouring San Francisco writer Rita Bullwinkel’s \u003cem>Belly Up. \u003c/em>This short story collection is like a house with many stupendous rooms built from spare sentences and subtle obsessions that spiral into the best kinds of existential questions.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The result is a strange and masterful collection with a patina of what I would call dark humor, were it not so otherworldly. One woman tries to halve herself into two identities; a boy heeds the impulse to test the limits of his body; an employee at a fancy furniture showroom corresponds with an inmate about a house from his imagination; and another woman saves her hair in jars to see if she can document grief.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Belly Up\u003c/em> is definitely your next read. Bullwinkel and I corresponded about her influences, the alluring strangeness of the body and the limiting power of symbols.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13833868\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13833868 size-medium\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-800x694.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"694\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-800x694.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-160x139.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-768x666.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-1020x885.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-1200x1041.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-1180x1024.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-960x833.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-240x208.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-375x325.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel-520x451.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/ritabullwinkel.jpg 1600w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rita Bullwinkel.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>To begin, I wondered about your process. How did this book of stories come together? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 2014, I began to realize that nearly all of my writing was circling some of the same things. I wonder, Ingrid, if you too have felt this strange feeling? It happens in large and small ways in people’s writing. For instance, I appear to be smitten with grocery store lighting, as many of my characters find themselves in grocery stores, and quite like it there. But it happens thematically, too. \u003cem>Belly Up\u003c/em> has many ghosts and many couples eating. The boundary between death and life is often unclear. And so, in 2014, when I realized that many of my stories were circling some of the same things, it was then I knew that I had a book.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have a close friend, who is also a writer, whose characters always seem, to her dismay, to find beetles in their houses. And James Wood, in his wonderful book, \u003cem>How Fiction Works\u003c/em>, notes that Cormac McCarthy, three times, all in separate books, describes the image of blood filling up boots. Do you have these small and large things you’ve only later realized you are circling, Ingrid?\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13833874\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13833874\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-800x600.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"600\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1200x900.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1920x1440.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-1180x885.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-960x720.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-375x281.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy-520x390.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/PortGibsonPigglyWigglyTaxidermy.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Interior of “Piggly Wiggly” grocery store, Port Gibson, Mississippi. Photo by Infrogmation. Wikimedia Commons.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I do. I find I circle around the possibility of unheard voices, unseen things or unheeded messages. Curtains too! I think I once watched as a curtain filled up with wind and it left me with an unshakeable feeling about my own temporality. What are some of your influences, either of the visual experiential type or the literary kind? \u003c/strong>\u003cstrong> \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I lived with a dancer for five years, who danced for the Metropolitan Opera. She danced for other people, too, including a choreographer named Shen Wei, with whom she did an installation in the New York Armory. My favorite piece she performed in was Nico Muhly’s \u003cem>Two Boys\u003c/em>. It got mixed reviews by critics, but it was brilliant. It was about two young boys falling in love over instant messenger. My roommate’s role was to embody, with a large group of dancers, the physical feeling of the Internet. It was amazing watching her weave in and out of the characters like mold or steam. I’m not sure if I am influenced by this performance, but I certainly enjoyed it, which is how I feel about my favorite authors, and the books I keep returning to to reread.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>I was struck by the routine, delicious surrealism of your stories. In \u003cem>Belly Up\u003c/em> you give a lot of attention to personhood and the question of the body: can personhood be halved? Can it be made whole by another? Can it be cheapened and become furniture? Can the body document grief? They’re mesmerizing questions. What do you think it is about the body that draws you to write about it?\u003c/strong>\u003cstrong> \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I find the experience of having a body to be supremely bizarre. I think this is partly because I am a woman, and women are continually asked to account for, and be defined by, their human forms. Women walk through the world having their gender continually thrown at them. Sometimes I feel as if all the world is saying to me is, “Woman, woman, woman.” This feeling is intensely present when one is yelled at on the street, but it does also happen in conversation, which can be even more dismaying, because you’ve already committed to talking to the person who is dismaying you, and it is very disappointing to try and engage with a person, and a person with whom you hoped to have a good conversation, and then discover that all they have to say to you is, “Woman, woman, woman.” However, I do think that having a body, regardless of the gender people assign to you, is a universally clunky and strange thing with which to reckon. The limitations are so great and so infinite. I think athletes also feel this. There is truly a very small spectrum of things we can do with our human forms.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>As a girl, too, what you know about your body can be so gory—you hear that at some point you will shed your insides and bleed them out, that at a later time you might be able to grow baby bones inside the darkness of your own belly. I also have to ask you about “Black Tongue.” This one’s a story where a young boy puts his tongue into an electric outlet. It is not often that I am riveted and glued to a story while simultaneously having to hide from it and read through the crevices of my fingers. Your imagery in this story is so stomach-turning, but so expertly conceived—I was repelled, fascinated and couldn’t get enough. You write about a mystifying human desire in this one—the impulse to hurt oneself or to ruin the body. What led you to that idea in particular? \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was a very serious athlete for a large portion of my life, which was immensely destructive to my body. I don’t think “Black Tongue” is about the impulse to hurt oneself. I think it’s about testing the limits of what a body can withstand. Children do this often. We are all doing it in small ways all of the time. There is an ecstasy in pushing your body to the limit of something. I recently went swimming in the San Francisco Bay, with the beautiful poet and essayist Kate Greene. Swimming in forty degree water was painful, in many ways, but it was also electrifying. It was delightful to genuinely not know for how long my body could endure the cold. You know that feeling of when you’re arm goes to sleep because your lover is laying on it? And you can see your arm moving on the other side of your lover, but you can’t feel it? That’s what swimming in the winter San Francisco Bay, sans wetsuit, felt like. I could see my arms and my legs moving, but it felt like they were asleep.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13833875\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13833875\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-800x647.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"647\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-800x647.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-160x129.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-768x621.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1020x825.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1200x970.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1920x1552.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-1180x954.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-960x776.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-240x194.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-375x303.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414-520x420.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Nude_woman_drying_body_rbm-QP301M8-1887-414.jpg 2048w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Plate 414. “Wiping body with towel”. Photo by “Eadweard Muybridge. Animal locomotion: an electro-photographic investigation of consecutive phases of animal movements. Wikimedia Commons.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>The strangeness of seeing your own body move while it is numb to you is the kind of observation this book is built on, and one of my favorite things about reading this work. I loved your story “Arms Overhead,” where two young girls have an academically rigorous and yet childlike discussion about their desire to be plants. Many of your characters navigate their realities via structures of symbols, sometimes seeking to become them. Do you feel that inhabiting a symbol is a way to achieve freedom from the body?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I think so. I think it is one avenue out. It’s so hard in fiction. Everyone is a symbol of something. Or their desires are symbols of refracted, mirror desires from real life that only exist in the author’s mind. I think it can be comforting to be a symbol, but also limiting. I am thinking of the maiden, mother, crone symbols, as particularly unfortunate symbols to be forced into inhabiting. I’d much father be forced to inhabit the symbol of the fool. But fools in literature, are almost always men. Where are our foolish women? We need a VIDA count for women fools.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong> I completely agree. Perhaps this is a void we can write into! I was also very excited to see Taryn Simon in the acknowledgments! She’s one of my favorite artists. I saw her photo exhibit \u003cem>A Living Man Declared Dead and Other Chapters\u003c/em> in New York—it is a work where Simon maps bloodlines and their related stories to a degree that I would call high literature. I’m so curious to know, is she an influence?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I am thrilled to learn that you, too, are an admirer of Taryn Simon’s! I think she is one of our most brilliant living artists. I, too, first discovered her work form the \u003cem>A Living Man Declared Dead and Other Chapters\u003c/em> show at the New York MOMA. I also believe her work to be high literature. I think that show could have been, or is in fact, a collection of stories. I am usually very suspect of work that makes use of text. Language can be a crutch for visual artists, something they employ to fill in the gaps of where their images are deficient, but this is completely the opposite with Simon’s images. In Simon’s work, the text is inextricable from the image. The sterility of her language, combined with the juxtaposition of her startling, beautiful images, elicits a profound emotional reaction from me.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>My favorite aspect of her work is her presentation of life as both mundane and extraordinary. You experience her work as a routine grid of data, but as you look closer, you are surprised by infinitely arresting details and you can never look away. I have similar feelings when reading your work. \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Your drawing of this parallel is a huge gift to me! Thank you.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935468\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Rita Bullwinkel reads from\u003c/em> Belly Up\u003cem> on June 13 at E.M. Wolfman Books in Oakland. Details \u003ca href=\"http://wolfmanhomerepair.com/event/2018/6/13/vi-khi-nao-jennifer-s-cheng-and-rita-bullwinkel\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cp>This summer, San Francisco boasts some of the best book releases of the year—and the best parties. Although we may not have as many sunny days as Southern California, the Bay Area’s literary scene is lit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here are five events book lovers should add to their calendars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L81fAi3-7Y?rel=0]\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Radar’s Quinceañera\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>June 7. San Francisco Public Library, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/415521992250380/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/series/summer-guide-2018\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"300\" class=\"alignright size-medium wp-image-13832925\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px.jpg 300w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-240x240.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-32x32.jpg 32w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-50x50.jpg 50w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-64x64.jpg 64w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-96x96.jpg 96w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-128x128.jpg 128w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-150x150.jpg 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\">\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the vein of coming-of-age quinceañera parties, RADAR Productions raises a glass to its 15th anniversary this June with cake, pink tulle, balloons and tiaras. With programming like the fabulous Drag Queen Story Hour (bringing drag queens to libraries and schools to read books to children), the Sister Spit Tour (which spotlights queer and trans authors of color) and monthly reading series spotlighting the hottest queer and feminist voices, RADAR is a tremendous organization. The party features performances by Grace Towers, Brontez Purnell, Jewelle Gomez and Arisa White, whom Roxane Gay called “exhilarating and memorable.” Oh, and there will be cake, and the first 40 people through the door get a tiara.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13832739 alignleft\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-800x518.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"518\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-800x518.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-160x104.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-768x497.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-1020x660.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-1200x776.png 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-1180x764.png 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-960x621.png 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-240x155.png 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-375x243.png 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-520x336.png 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party.png 1530w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Zyzzyva’s Summer Dance Party\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>June 15. Make Out Room (3225 22nd St) in San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/3379094\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There is no party like a Zyzzyva party. For the second year in a row, the literary magazine is throwing a dance party fundraiser, giving local authors and their readers a welcome opportunity to blow off some steam. Editor Oscar Villalón stated over e-mail: “Given the understandably anxious mood most of us share in the Bay Area these days—dread of the cost of living, dread of the authoritarian bent the country has taken, dread of all the things likely to go wrong under Trump—Laura and I thought maybe we should re-cast our traditional fundraiser as an opportunity for people to leave all that aside for a few hours and just enjoy themselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The evening is hosted by Glen David Gold and features performances by Paul Beatty and Michelle Latiolais. Did I mention there’s a raffle to win a manuscript consultation with \u003cem>Sirens\u003c/em> author Joshua Mohr?\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13832557\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"max-width: 674px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13832557 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"674\" height=\"506\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh.jpg 674w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-375x282.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-520x390.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 674px) 100vw, 674px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Otessa Moshfegh.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Otessa Moshfegh’s \u003cem>My Year of Rest and Relaxation\u003c/em>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>July 11. Green Apple Books on the Park, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-ottessa-moshfegh-0\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ve been waiting for Otessa Moshfegh’s \u003cem>My Year of Rest and Relaxation \u003c/em>since \u003ca href=\"https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/3kvgkv/an-excerpt-from-ottessa-moshfeghs-upcoming-novel-my-year-of-rest-and-relaxation-v24n10\">reading\u003c/a> an excerpt in VICE’s fiction issue last December. In \u003cem>My Year of Rest and Relaxation\u003c/em>, a woman decides she will go into hibernation by taking as many drugs as her (terrible) psychiatrist will prescribe to her. Hers is a constantly evanescing reality. She wakes up to herself on a train, for example, and wonders:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Was the sun coming up, or was it setting? Which way was the train headed? I looked at my hands again, at the gray line of dirt under my chewed-up fingernails. When a man in uniform passed, I stopped him. I was too shy to ask the important questions—“What day is it? Where am I going? Is it night or morning?”—so I asked him what the next stop on the train would be instead.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Moshfegh writes dizzying whorls out of reality, and her characters are mystifying and absolutely alluring. I read her in a gulp.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13832544\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13832544\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-1200x800.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-520x347.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti.jpg 1500w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">R.O. Kwon. \u003ccite>(Smeeta Mahanti)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>R.O. Kwon’s \u003cem>The Incediaries\u003c/em>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>July 31, Green Apple Books on the Park, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-ro-kwon-book-release\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>R.O. Kwon’s novel, \u003cem>The Incediaries\u003c/em>, promises to be one of the most sizzling debuts of the summer. It’s a story about God, domestic terrorism, a cult and love—which is to say, the perfect read for relaxing in the sun. Kwon’s prose is elegant, addictive and profoundly affecting. For the release of her debut, Kwon will be in conversation with Esmé Weijun Wang (author of the \u003cem>Border of Paradise\u003c/em>).\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13832561\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13832561 size-medium\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-520x347.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig.jpg 1100w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Virgie Tovar.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Virgie Tovar’s \u003cem>You Have a Right to Remain Fat\u003c/em>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Aug. 13. The Bindery, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.booksmith.com/Bindery\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Amid anxiety-inducing swimsuit season, if there was ever an ideal beach read, this is it. Tovar is a force. In the opening chapter, she writes:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>I think it’s almost a fact that everyone remembers that kid in their class who used to look up all the girls’ skirts… I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the boy who looked up skirts was also the first person who called me fat. After all, unsolicited masculine sexual attention and the drive to control feminine bodies go hand in hand.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Weaving personal stories with cultural critique, \u003cem>You Have the Right to Remain Fat \u003c/em>is as astute as it is refreshing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>This summer, San Francisco boasts some of the best book releases of the year—and the best parties. Although we may not have as many sunny days as Southern California, the Bay Area’s literary scene is lit.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here are five events book lovers should add to their calendars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/-L81fAi3-7Y?rel=0'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/-L81fAi3-7Y?rel=0'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Radar’s Quinceañera\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>June 7. San Francisco Public Library, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.facebook.com/events/415521992250380/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/series/summer-guide-2018\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"300\" class=\"alignright size-medium wp-image-13832925\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px.jpg 300w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-160x160.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-240x240.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-32x32.jpg 32w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-50x50.jpg 50w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-64x64.jpg 64w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-96x96.jpg 96w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-128x128.jpg 128w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/HotSummer_300x300px-150x150.jpg 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\">\u003c/a>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the vein of coming-of-age quinceañera parties, RADAR Productions raises a glass to its 15th anniversary this June with cake, pink tulle, balloons and tiaras. With programming like the fabulous Drag Queen Story Hour (bringing drag queens to libraries and schools to read books to children), the Sister Spit Tour (which spotlights queer and trans authors of color) and monthly reading series spotlighting the hottest queer and feminist voices, RADAR is a tremendous organization. The party features performances by Grace Towers, Brontez Purnell, Jewelle Gomez and Arisa White, whom Roxane Gay called “exhilarating and memorable.” Oh, and there will be cake, and the first 40 people through the door get a tiara.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13832739 alignleft\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-800x518.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"518\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-800x518.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-160x104.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-768x497.png 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-1020x660.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-1200x776.png 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-1180x764.png 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-960x621.png 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-240x155.png 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-375x243.png 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party-520x336.png 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/z-dance-party.png 1530w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003ch2>Zyzzyva’s Summer Dance Party\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>June 15. Make Out Room (3225 22nd St) in San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/3379094\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There is no party like a Zyzzyva party. For the second year in a row, the literary magazine is throwing a dance party fundraiser, giving local authors and their readers a welcome opportunity to blow off some steam. Editor Oscar Villalón stated over e-mail: “Given the understandably anxious mood most of us share in the Bay Area these days—dread of the cost of living, dread of the authoritarian bent the country has taken, dread of all the things likely to go wrong under Trump—Laura and I thought maybe we should re-cast our traditional fundraiser as an opportunity for people to leave all that aside for a few hours and just enjoy themselves.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The evening is hosted by Glen David Gold and features performances by Paul Beatty and Michelle Latiolais. Did I mention there’s a raffle to win a manuscript consultation with \u003cem>Sirens\u003c/em> author Joshua Mohr?\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13832557\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"max-width: 674px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13832557 size-full\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"674\" height=\"506\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh.jpg 674w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-240x180.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-375x282.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Ottessa-Moshfegh-520x390.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 674px) 100vw, 674px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Otessa Moshfegh.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Otessa Moshfegh’s \u003cem>My Year of Rest and Relaxation\u003c/em>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>July 11. Green Apple Books on the Park, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-ottessa-moshfegh-0\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I’ve been waiting for Otessa Moshfegh’s \u003cem>My Year of Rest and Relaxation \u003c/em>since \u003ca href=\"https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/3kvgkv/an-excerpt-from-ottessa-moshfeghs-upcoming-novel-my-year-of-rest-and-relaxation-v24n10\">reading\u003c/a> an excerpt in VICE’s fiction issue last December. In \u003cem>My Year of Rest and Relaxation\u003c/em>, a woman decides she will go into hibernation by taking as many drugs as her (terrible) psychiatrist will prescribe to her. Hers is a constantly evanescing reality. She wakes up to herself on a train, for example, and wonders:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Was the sun coming up, or was it setting? Which way was the train headed? I looked at my hands again, at the gray line of dirt under my chewed-up fingernails. When a man in uniform passed, I stopped him. I was too shy to ask the important questions—“What day is it? Where am I going? Is it night or morning?”—so I asked him what the next stop on the train would be instead.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Moshfegh writes dizzying whorls out of reality, and her characters are mystifying and absolutely alluring. I read her in a gulp.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13832544\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-13832544\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-1200x800.jpg 1200w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-1180x787.jpg 1180w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti-520x347.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/Kwonheadshot-SmeetaMahanti.jpg 1500w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">R.O. Kwon. \u003ccite>(Smeeta Mahanti)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>R.O. Kwon’s \u003cem>The Incediaries\u003c/em>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>July 31, Green Apple Books on the Park, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.greenapplebooks.com/event/9th-ave-ro-kwon-book-release\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>R.O. Kwon’s novel, \u003cem>The Incediaries\u003c/em>, promises to be one of the most sizzling debuts of the summer. It’s a story about God, domestic terrorism, a cult and love—which is to say, the perfect read for relaxing in the sun. Kwon’s prose is elegant, addictive and profoundly affecting. For the release of her debut, Kwon will be in conversation with Esmé Weijun Wang (author of the \u003cem>Border of Paradise\u003c/em>).\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13832561\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"max-width: 800px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13832561 size-medium\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-800x533.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"533\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-960x640.jpg 960w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-240x160.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-375x250.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig-520x347.jpg 520w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/virgie-ebx_orig.jpg 1100w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Virgie Tovar.\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003ch2>Virgie Tovar’s \u003cem>You Have a Right to Remain Fat\u003c/em>\u003c/h2>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Aug. 13. The Bindery, San Francisco. Details \u003ca href=\"https://www.booksmith.com/Bindery\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Amid anxiety-inducing swimsuit season, if there was ever an ideal beach read, this is it. Tovar is a force. In the opening chapter, she writes:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>I think it’s almost a fact that everyone remembers that kid in their class who used to look up all the girls’ skirts… I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the boy who looked up skirts was also the first person who called me fat. After all, unsolicited masculine sexual attention and the drive to control feminine bodies go hand in hand.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Weaving personal stories with cultural critique, \u003cem>You Have the Right to Remain Fat \u003c/em>is as astute as it is refreshing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-800x42.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>We are in a cultural moment where men’s predatory behavior — in the workplace, at parties, in living rooms and in the White House — has wrung dry any grace that dictums like “boys will be boys” previously provided. Critics sportingly hunt down that dictum wherever it appears, and one only wishes it a rapid extinction.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-13831208\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"396\" height=\"595\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man.jpg 396w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man-240x361.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man-375x563.jpg 375w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 396px) 100vw, 396px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Personally, I hunger for more complicated views of masculinity. I couldn’t stop talking about \u003cem>Moonlight \u003c/em>after I saw it. I remember curling up with my blanket and emotions on an airplane, landing and renting it again as soon as I returned to my apartment. I paused only to appreciate the beauty of its tonal blues and tenderness; its achingly beautiful and wholly unpredictable grace.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>A Lucky Man, \u003c/em>out this May, is the stunning debut short story collection by Jamel Brinkley, one that reminds me of \u003cem>Moonlight\u003c/em>. It is not a book about gay men, though. Rather, Brinkley explores black men under both the pressurized violence and bottled up tenderness that undoes them at every turn. This is a book that acknowledges male stereotypes while subverting them and exploring the psychic damage they leave in their wake.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Brinkley builds his stories over the lowly clatter of life: recent college graduates on the prowl for girls; teenage boys on the prowl for a glance up a skirt; small boys on the prowl for haircuts that will make them look like men; and grown men on the prowl for something, \u003cem>anything\u003c/em>, that will make them feel more whole.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Brinkley describes women as men on the hunt might see them, except perhaps more admiringly. In “No More Than a Bubble,” two young men arrive at a Harvard party convinced the girls there “wore better, tinier underwear than the girls [they] knew” and were “mad geniuses of their bodies.” Women seen by the men in Brinkley’s stories are creatures full of wiles and mysterious ways. A classic male gaze. But even while writing from the points of view of his characters, Brinkley writes with precision about women, letting the men who hunger after them witness a complicated dimensionality. Each story also carries, even while traversing the superficiality of a college party, the profound tenor of old wounds (about race, family, and yearning).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>All nine of the stories in this collection share an identical architecture, but Brinkley’s endings are so ethereal and luminous that one is hardly bothered. Brinkley’s stories find their footing on the violent edge of gender performativity and end in a reach for language to describe the incomprehensible.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One ending is so beautiful, I must share it. But will not give you any context so as not to ruin your reading:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Claudius was sitting in the bed, staring at me. All at once an acute ugliness shuddered into being, a face revealed within a face, and he must have seen it within mine too. It has been that way with people in my life, with people I have loved: a fine dispersal, a rupture as quiet as two lips parting, a change so sudden one morning, so slight, you wonder if they had ever been beautiful at all.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Jamel Brinkley’s \u003cem>A Lucky Man\u003c/em> is as compulsive to read as an addictive novel. It is a gripping tapestry of boys at that juncture of life where the men they are to become “[begins] to erupt out of [them], like a flourish of horns.” It’s also a tapestry of those moments where the distances, hesitations and intimacies become the crack of these men’s breaking.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Catch Jamel Brinkley at the Booksmith (1644 Haight St) in San Francisco on May 7 at 7:30pm.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>We are in a cultural moment where men’s predatory behavior — in the workplace, at parties, in living rooms and in the White House — has wrung dry any grace that dictums like “boys will be boys” previously provided. Critics sportingly hunt down that dictum wherever it appears, and one only wishes it a rapid extinction.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-13831208\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"396\" height=\"595\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man.jpg 396w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man-160x240.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man-240x361.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/05/a-lucky-man-375x563.jpg 375w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 396px) 100vw, 396px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Personally, I hunger for more complicated views of masculinity. I couldn’t stop talking about \u003cem>Moonlight \u003c/em>after I saw it. I remember curling up with my blanket and emotions on an airplane, landing and renting it again as soon as I returned to my apartment. I paused only to appreciate the beauty of its tonal blues and tenderness; its achingly beautiful and wholly unpredictable grace.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>A Lucky Man, \u003c/em>out this May, is the stunning debut short story collection by Jamel Brinkley, one that reminds me of \u003cem>Moonlight\u003c/em>. It is not a book about gay men, though. Rather, Brinkley explores black men under both the pressurized violence and bottled up tenderness that undoes them at every turn. This is a book that acknowledges male stereotypes while subverting them and exploring the psychic damage they leave in their wake.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Brinkley builds his stories over the lowly clatter of life: recent college graduates on the prowl for girls; teenage boys on the prowl for a glance up a skirt; small boys on the prowl for haircuts that will make them look like men; and grown men on the prowl for something, \u003cem>anything\u003c/em>, that will make them feel more whole.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Brinkley describes women as men on the hunt might see them, except perhaps more admiringly. In “No More Than a Bubble,” two young men arrive at a Harvard party convinced the girls there “wore better, tinier underwear than the girls [they] knew” and were “mad geniuses of their bodies.” Women seen by the men in Brinkley’s stories are creatures full of wiles and mysterious ways. A classic male gaze. But even while writing from the points of view of his characters, Brinkley writes with precision about women, letting the men who hunger after them witness a complicated dimensionality. Each story also carries, even while traversing the superficiality of a college party, the profound tenor of old wounds (about race, family, and yearning).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>All nine of the stories in this collection share an identical architecture, but Brinkley’s endings are so ethereal and luminous that one is hardly bothered. Brinkley’s stories find their footing on the violent edge of gender performativity and end in a reach for language to describe the incomprehensible.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One ending is so beautiful, I must share it. But will not give you any context so as not to ruin your reading:\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Claudius was sitting in the bed, staring at me. All at once an acute ugliness shuddered into being, a face revealed within a face, and he must have seen it within mine too. It has been that way with people in my life, with people I have loved: a fine dispersal, a rupture as quiet as two lips parting, a change so sudden one morning, so slight, you wonder if they had ever been beautiful at all.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>Jamel Brinkley’s \u003cem>A Lucky Man\u003c/em> is as compulsive to read as an addictive novel. It is a gripping tapestry of boys at that juncture of life where the men they are to become “[begins] to erupt out of [them], like a flourish of horns.” It’s also a tapestry of those moments where the distances, hesitations and intimacies become the crack of these men’s breaking.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12935470\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"42\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-160x8.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-768x40.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-240x13.jpg 240w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-375x20.jpg 375w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/03/Spine-1-520x27.jpg 520w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Catch Jamel Brinkley at the Booksmith (1644 Haight St) in San Francisco on May 7 at 7:30pm.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Spine is a biweekly column. Catch us back here in two weeks.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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