TOBI'S DESK

“ Where I Live ,” an exhibition of photos by Tom Arndt, is at Howard Greenberg Gallery through July 7. Arndt, born in Minneapolis in 1944, took these pictures in 2015 and 2016, as he roamed the Twin Cities and their environs, plus North Dakota and Montana. “I am like the people that I photograph,” he has said. “I am not traveling through.”   Tom Arndt, Beauty Shop, St. Paul, Minnesota, September 23, 2016 , gelatin silver print, 16″ x 20″. Boy, Indian Days, Montana, July 2015 , gelatin silver print, 16″ x 20″.   Bismarck Summer, Ben and Nathan, 2015 , gelatin silver print, 16″ x 20″.   Jon Johnson, St. Paul, Minnesota, July 16, 2016 , gelatin silver print, 20″ x 16″.   Three Friends, Minneapolis, July 31, 2016 , gelatin silver print, 16″ x 20″.   Wedding, Bismarck, North Dakota, June 2015 , gelatin silver print, 16″ x 20″.   Missing a Friend, St. Paul, Minnesota, May 2015 , gelatin silver print, 16″ x 20″.   Flag Dancer, Parade of Bands, Benson, Minnesota,

(Containing sundrie small Poemes of the Worlds Vanitie.) 1. Suppose you want to know whether a given Czesław Miłosz poem rhymes in the original. Or you want to know if it’s in meter. If you don’t speak Polish, friend, you have some serious fuss ahead of you. Tell you one thing. You won’t find out by reading the introduction to any English translation of Miłosz I’ve ever looked at. Questions of this sort are regarded as matters of absolutely no interest.  Why would you want to know anything about a poet’s prosody .    2. Books and books are translated out of Sanskrit, and the translators never tell you how to pronounce anything. Consequently you run around putting the stress on the next-to-last syllable of every single proper noun, as if Sanskrit were Spanish or Italian… X  Ramayána   whereas it should be   ✓  Ramáyana X  Mahabharáta  whereas it should be  ✓  Máha·bhárata X  Vatsyayána   whereas it should be   ✓  Vatsyáyana X  Ravána   whereas it should   ✓  Rávana X  Kadambári

From a seventies-era ad for Straw Hat Pizza.   You may want pizza. I grant you that. But it may be that pizza wants you. It may be that the pizza gods have shaped the very essence of your desire, pulling you aside at every possible moment to whisper pizza , pizza , pizza . You want pizza because you can order pizza from a pulldown menu full of fun customizable pizza options. David Rudin argues that our computers and phones, with their machine logic, are an ideal vehicle for pizza, which is widely understood and easy to assemble. After all, he explains, Domino’s “ now offers a series of apps, chatbots, and even the option of tweeting an order using the pizza emoji . Some of these ordering options may exist primarily as marketing gimmicks, but their aggregate effect remains notable: Any interface to which you have access can likely be used to order pizza. This in part stems from pizza’s popularity, but taste is only a small part of the story: The delivery pizza is highly adaptable t

The 2017 Caine Prize shortlist, which was announced two weeks ago, is arguably, as Petina Gappah suggested, the prize’s most thematically-diverse shortlist in years. Each of the five stories—Lesley Arimah’s “Who Will Greet You at Home?”; Arinze Ifeakandu’s ‘God’s Children Are Little Broken Things”; Bushra Al-Fadil’s “The Story of the Girl Whose Birds Flew Away”; […] from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2sdm6SW

So much has been said about how Chinua Achebe’s first three novels—Things Fall Apart (1958), No Longer at Ease (1960) and Arrow of God (1964)—constitute a trilogy charting the response of three generations of the Igbo society to colonialism. Okonkwo’s story in the first novel is set in the 1890s, at the beginning of colonial […] from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2sdP8ll

Recently, the Spalding MFA Twitter account tweeted about my small online lit mag: “@slushpilemag is accepting #fiction, #poetry, and #cnf submissions through @submittable & will provide feedback!” it cheerfully announced. The post got a handful of likes and retweets. Then came this: “Do you pay your contributors?” I grimaced as I typed my response: “Only in mugs and tote bags, I’m afraid.” A few minutes later came the inevitable reply: “Yeah…that’s not payment.” Exchanges like this happen from time to time — sometimes over email, sometimes over Twitter. Often they seem undergirded by an assumption that lit mag editors will reap some monetary reward for publishing an author’s work while denying them the compensation they deserve . So I thought an explanation was in order. The following is an overview of the sad but true economic reality of literary magazines, and what writers should know as they stake out the terrain. Literary Journals Don’t Make Money “There is no such

ZARA Read previous post  Here All her life, Zara was certain that by the age of  twenty-four she would have been married and at twenty five maybe pregnant or already a mother. Because she was so keen on meeting this self imposed life expectation , more often than not she landed herself in unhealthy relationships. … Continue reading “Unaware”- 5 → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2rDuT3t

He lies awake and stares At nothing but himself He creates another and looks through their eyes He curses his weakness and all that it seems His faith misplaced, drowning in disbelieve Still, He lies awake and stares Fishing for light or her soft lips One is good, one is better or so he thinks … Continue reading Unraveling ep8 of 16 → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2scTLfs

I am being led into the prison building, alongside Nkem and Obinna, my lodgemates. We just alighted from the black Toyota Hilux vehicle still parked outside. The police boss is behind us with two other police officers; one drove us here and is standing beside the vehicle, the other one is guarding our backs, his … Continue reading What The Hell! → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2qERW9e

From the cover of Nonesuch’s reissue of Music from the Morning of the World   Sometimes by bus; sometimes by jeep or truck or caravanserai; sometimes by donkey, though not if he could help it; and almost always on foot, across rickety bridges and footpaths, up the sides of mountains, through valleys and hills rife with goats and wayward sheep, over rocks and fences, across streams and rivers swollen by rain or dry from drought; carrying a small (but not that small) portable tape recorder, twenty or thirty reels of quarter-inch tape, a couple of microphones, cables, a week’s supply of batteries, a few packs of Fortnum & Mason tea, and a few spare shirts. The shirts have been lost to time and forgotten laundries—but the tapes, the recordings from those travels, still circulate fifty years on, filling listeners with pleasure and astonishment. David Lewiston was born in London in 1929 and graduated from Trinity College of Music in 1953. Already interested in the spiritual teachin

Book Riot offers a step-by-step guide to making your own book covers out of paper bags. Not saying this was a thing we did as kids, particularly when jacket design didn’t meet expectations – a certain Dover edition of the Francis Hodgson Burnett classic   A Little Princess  comes to mind – but not  not saying that either. The post Ahh Memories appeared first on The Millions . from The Millions http://ift.tt/2qCEFhx

Francesco Pacifico. Photo: Riccardo Musacchio and Flavio Ianniello   The last time I interviewed Francesco Pacifico for The Paris Review Daily was back in 2013, when he published The Story of My Purity . That novel, whose slacker narrator was unusually both Catholic and celibate, was an examination of a certain hipster atmosphere—and in his new novel, Class , Pacifico continues his malicious analysis of that global condition. Class tells the story of an Italian couple in New York, Lorenzo and Ludovica, and the fresco they inhabit: filmmakers, literary scouts, total wastrels … The more I thought about this novel and its dark concerns, I began to realize how Pacifico’s look so beautifully matches his writing’s contradictions. The first time you meet him, with his beard and his smile, you have this sense of a charming bohemian happiness, a man never far from recreational drugs. But as I have come to know him, I’ve learned that his beard is a disguise: it might look like the abs

Michele Marieschi, La Punta Della Dogana e San Giorgio Maggiore   Even now, more than seventy years after the end of World War II, the Nazis have found new ways to ruin things. Art, for example. In July, Sotheby’s will sell Michele Marieschi’s eighteenth-century painting La Punta Della Dogana e San Giorgio Maggiore . You might wish to buy it—it’s a nice painting, on the face of it, containing boats, water, the sky, and other attractive things often found in paintings. But read the fine print. The painting was looted by the Nazis decades ago, and the Jewish family who’d originally owned it has fought for generations to get it back. Now that it’s been recovered, you’d think the family could simply reclaim it. But the art market has other ideas, and the painting’s market value has escalated; rather than return it, Sotheby’s has brokered an uneasy settlement with the family. Nina Siegal has the story in detail: “ It was 1937, Vienna, when a Jewish couple named Heinrich and Anna Maria

Out this week:  Extraordinary Adventures   by  Daniel Wallace ;  White Fur   by  Jardine Libaire ;  The Reminders   by  Val Emmich ; Once, in Lourdes   by  Sharon Solwitz ; and  Touch   by  Courtney Maum . For more on these and other new titles, go read our most recent book preview . The post Tuesday New Release Day: Wallace; Libaire; Emmich; Solwitz; Maum appeared first on The Millions . from The Millions http://ift.tt/2s9im52

During this hoops-rich period, the frenetic Madness of March having transitioned into the more austere months-long slog of the NBA Playoffs, I found myself fruitlessly poking around for a good basketball novel.  I’m both a writer and great fan of the game — my podcast, Fan’s Notes , pairs the discussion of a novel with a discussion of basketball, usually the NBA.  My podcasting partner and I tend to find no shortage of cultural and metaphorical linkage between the two art forms, yet modern literary fiction seems to harbor no special love for this great game. Football has A Fan’s Notes , End Zone , The Throwback Special , Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk .  Baseball has The Natural , Shoeless Joe , Underworld , and more recently The Art of Fielding .  For Christ’s sake, hockey yet has another Don DeLillo tome, the pseudonymously written Amazons .  Where, I find myself wondering, is the great basketball novel?   First of all, no, The Basketball Diaries is not a basketball novel. It

    Chapter I The bright neon lights shone seductively between red and pink. The sign had that peculiar allure that enticed people to come in. A night club in the sub-urban area of the nation’s capital, Abuja. It was a few minutes to twelve and it was already getting filled to the brim despite … Continue reading Dazzle Me (Chapter 1) → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2sgBMUS

It was a very bright morning. I was walking down the street when I saw people all gathered at a spot, on the other side of the road.  They all focused their gaze on something. What could that be? I asked myself. I knew it must be something bad. I was going to satisfy my … Continue reading Death For Sale → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2ri1n2j

BROKEN LINES I traced truth carefully across a falling heart and she yielded a yes when I couldn’t cross I said if hearts are so great and they have words so soft that my blood should ripple of care, of promises, of joy that can so be fulfilled I traced truth carefully and I found … Continue reading Broken Lines → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2quqxf6

  Thirty-seven years after it was first published, Ngugi’s Devil on the Cross has a new edition from Penguin Classics, with an introduction by the 2015 Caine Prize winner Namwali Serpell. Part of this introduction, titled “Kenya in Another Tongue,” is published in The New York Review of Books and traces both Ngugi’s political awareness […] from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2rxNEWd

Founded in 2013, the pan-African collective Jalada is unarguably at the forefront of the reinvention of African literature. In this period of time, the group has published five important anthologies and one mini-anthology. Their first anthology is JA00: Sketch of a Bald Woman in the semi-nude and other stories. Their second anthology was groundbreaking: JA01: […] from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2rxNKgr

It is a Brittle Paper tradition to review the five stories shortlisted for the Caine Prize. Through this, we hope to open up conversations around the stories, to find out what is interesting or innovative about them. After last week’s opener, following the announcement of the shortlist, we bring you our second #CainePrize2017 story review: Chikodili Emelumadu “Bush Baby.” […] from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2ryi76i

Recently, the Nigerian artist Victor Ehikhamenor called out the legendary British maestro, Damien Hirst, for appropriating Nigerian art in one of his latest exhibitions at the Venice Biennale. The said work, titled Golden Heads (Female), bears a startling resemblance to Ori Olokun, an ancient sculpture originating from as far back as the 13th century in […] from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2rxN3n9

Dedicated to Everyone who didn’t do well in this past Jamb. It was cosy. Death was cosy. She loved the feeling she was having. At that point, nothing felt sweet any more. Nothing felt bad as well. Everything felt numb. She needed to feel something and that thing must be death. Her body should soon … Continue reading Jambed Again… ( A Story of Frustration) → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2rNwbZt

The sight of her brings her dread Her perfume repugnant brings fear Her smile is spiteful Her voice destroys Her palms is sweaty Filled like a glass blasted by the rain. Still, she stands and looks devoid Beaming outwardly for that love That love despising and disgraceful Leah’s mother sat in a slim, light brown … Continue reading Unraveling ep7 of 16 → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2rwyoJb

Ask your mother how your father Was sold yesterday to the hands of righteous death, curling in fearful fist. His stomach was empty with a widened wild hunger and she left him to die. Ask her of your name “Kamchetanna”. Ask her of your sisters and brothers sold into slavery before you were born. She … Continue reading Element Of Freedom → from NaijaStories.com http://ift.tt/2rNmESg

                                                                                                    Click on cover to read review. For book giveaway please click HERE from Mary Okeke Reviews http://ift.tt/2qrIfeU