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Articles tagged "Women Writers"

From “The March of Time”

And so the answer is revealed, to the riddle asked only once in a lifetime (one of the biggest questions in life, perhaps the biggest): your husband Chang Te-Mo will appear again after his death. What kind of ghost will he be? (And here it comes, here it comes, the question in return: “What kind of person was he?”) After the body is cleaned, it’s time to escort him to the morgue. You tell him, “Chang Te-Mo, it’s all right now.” For the last time, you...

From “Notes of a Crocodile”

She was used to relying on other people. I had a habit of protecting girls. If she was in class at a set time, for a set time, I was there to soak it up. In class I was a show-off, but from the moment classes ended till the moment they started up again, I was gone. Her long hair trailed over her shoulders. Her elegant clothing gave her the appearance of being around twenty-four or twenty-five. That entire year I went for a kind of misfit look, wearing outdated jeans that made me look barely...

From “Qibla”

(Night. Nadie, an Indonesian domestic worker, lies beneath a mosquito net with Granny, the woman she was employed to look after.) GRANNY:  Mosquitoes. NADIE:       I put up the net. There can’t be mosquitoes. GRANNY:   Mosquitoes! NADIE:       Argh! You’re doing this on purpose! GRANNY:   Ha ha! It’s my pak . . . pak . . . (She slaps a mosquito with each “pak.”)...

From “The Ringing of the Rain has a Forgiving Grace”

11-14 A tangerine sun gave my birdcage a ripe rinsing Its spacious temporary closure is uncommonly loud and clear Dead ringer for a dime   12-25 Fingertips are spark-tinted. Their milk contains one-percent fat Slow results. Delay dowager’s hump. Low-lying pain. A leaky fist. I am willing to carve you a ten-second slice of winter. 嘹亮的雨水有原諒的美 © Ye Mimi. By arrangement with the author....

We Deliver More Than We Promise

Everything but everything was just so sweet To cater to his every wish To allow him to do exactly as he pleased with me To sacrifice the self I’d lost completely Entirely to him It was all so trivial it’s hardly worth mentioning But it shimmered with light I’m a pig, he said, isn’t that right? I’m the pig, I said, you’re just an idiot We were like vodka with a vodka chaser and a litter of kids who were just like honey Our kids will never forget vodka...

Wedding in Autumn

“Ah Ju’s back!” Ah Ju, the girl from the road crew dormitory. That’s what we all called her, because that’s where she grew up. She disappeared for a quite a while, but now she was back, and she brought two people with her: her fiancé, and her unborn child. I hadn’t seen her pregnant belly yet, so I didn’t know if it was a bump or a peak, if she was going to have a boy or a girl. But if there’s one thing I did know, it’s that women...

From “Cinderella”

There she stood, cursing her three Jack Russells, that unsettled afternoon my mother and I planned to take over a brothel. Our backer and soon-to-be business partner, a short, skinny, and bald guy who suffered being called Daffy Danny, was about to keep us waiting for the best part of an hour that afternoon. The self-proclaimed madman might have had half a million in his bank account, and my mother and I might have been depending on every single cent of that money for our future enterprise,...

What You’ve Given Up Hoping for Counts Twice as Much, She’d Discovered

ONE Even when she looked in a mirror she had a smile on her face these days; when she went down the stairs there was practically a skip in her step, and now and again, a tune would come humming out of her. What you’ve given up hoping for counts twice as much, Kathleen had discovered. After her divorce, there’d been Emiel. He had Crohn’s disease. It hadn’t been officially diagnosed but he assumed he had it, given the unreliability of his bowels. He didn’t...

Plastic Wrap

Peter doesn’t buy everything on the list. Checking off the groceries among the packed supermarket shelves, all he can picture is his daughter at home by herself: curled up on top of the duvet, nightshirt on backward. As he was leaving, it seemed somehow dangerous to wake her from this peaceful, perfect position but now, with a display cabinet of chicken wings staring him in the face, all he can think of is her pointed shoulder blades peeping out of her V-neck. He decides to get a move...

“Scattering the Dark: An Anthology of Polish Women Poets” edited by Karen Kovacik

In The Joy of Writing, Wislawa Szymborska writes of the liberating, creative power of poetic language: Is there then a world Where I rule absolutely on fate? A time I bind with chains of signs? An existence become endless at my bidding? The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand. Szymborska is the most famous of the Polish women poets, a recipient of the Noble Prize in Literature who is widely admired as a poet, essayist, and translator. Her sense of self...

Raja Alem’s “The Dove’s Necklace”

Work took me to Iran seventeen years ago. I was one of only two women in our group, the other an Iranian who moved from Tehran to London years earlier. On the advice of this colleague I dressed very conservatively during my stay, even by local standards. Each morning, before departing my hotel for business meetings, I cocooned myself in a chador that she lent me—a leftover from her Tehran high school days. Black fabric draped my body down to my ankles and encircled my forehead, ears...

On Angoulême and Control

Illustration accompanying call for boycott. © Julie Maroh. The furor over the list of nominees for the Grand Prix of the Angoulême International Comics Festival (FIBD) should be understood as a typical example of a number of societal phenomena. I mean by this that the comics world is no more or less sexist than other communities: it’s just the same. But I also mean that this controversy was a gift for the media and for those who love to dig into such a juicy morsel since...

Liu Xia’s “Empty Chairs”

Poet and photographer Liu Xia lives amongst dolls in her poetry collection, Empty Chairs. Under house arrest and panoptically watched by the People’s Republic of China in the wake of the incarceration of her husband, Nobel Peace Prize recipient Liu Xiaobo, for “subversion of the state,” Liu’s collection resides in a place of isolation, a place brimming with shadows, specters, and half-issued words. It is from this interval of confinement­­––a...

Contemporary Women’s Writing in Slovakia

Twenty-five years after the Velvet Revolution and over two decades since its “velvet divorce” from its bigger brother, the Czech Republic, in 1992, Slovakia—a country with a population of just over five million—still remains largely unknown outside Central Europe. Unlike its former sibling, it has yet to produce authors who have become household names abroad. Except for ice-hockey championships, the country rarely makes international headlines, though it did recently...

Where Are the Women in Translation?

I’ve never been good at math, or maybe I should say, I never liked math enough to be good at it, even if I did get the odd A in the subject in high school. So I don’t have a clue how to divide 3% by 26%, for example. I searched on the Internet, and found calculators that were very handy for the research I was doing for what has turned into this blog, but I’ll have to leave it to you to work out what twenty-six percent of three percent is. Not an awful lot. As most of...

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