“Our ancestors knew something about bees that we’ve forgotten or refuse to recognize, that bees, with their incomparable senses, can sense the thin spots between worlds and break through; use their efficient little jaws to nibble a hole from universe to another.”
— Johanna Sinisalo, The Blood of Angels (peterowenpublisher)
“China has even declared itself a “near Arctic state,” a big stretch as even its northernmost region lies more than 1,000 miles from the Arctic Circle. But, Mr. Ostreng said, “When you are a big country, you can claim to be whatever you want, and people believe you.””

Cheryl Wheeler, “When Fall Comes to New England”

Yosemite National Park, CA / Photo: Patrick Tehan

“I didn’t study writing in college, I studied anthropology. I was an anthropology major, and though I took writing workshops I didn’t do English or literature, which are the more traditional ways of getting into this hustle. However, I was a reader, I read everything I could get my hands on, and — well let me say it this way, one of the benefits of not having studied literature in a traditional sense is that my relationship with the canon is not, um, a tight relationship, not an embrace. I didn’t have the canon shoved down my throat, so I didn’t acquire or reject the prejudices of the canon. I read widely and try to read without ideas of what literature has to be, or what it historically has been. It’s kind of a freeing way to read. But it also means I’m completely embarrassed by the things that I haven’t read, and I’d like not to talk about that (laughs).”

Daniel Alarcón, interviewed at LA Review of Books

His words could have come out of my own mouth, right down to the anthropology major.

Not the best photo, but it was awfully exciting to receive some advance copies of Fram in the mail today from Ig Publishing.

thomasbolt:

Raymond Queneau, early exercises in style

(via nyrbclassics)

“The eyes of the animals were watching him, the fox and hares. They took great care not to reveal themselves. He guessed at their existence. When they’d left marks in the sand or mud, he crouched beside these proofs. When they’d left no marks, he imagined their presence.

The mountains thrust straight up on either side of the river. But because he had nothing against which to measure them he could only guess at their immensity; he could not fully perceive what he stood in the midst of. Later, however, he spotted an emergency shelter on the opposite bank, a tiny orange hut, crouched at the base of the rock face, and in that moment he understood that hugeness surrounded him.”