In The Mess Of Moving

When I Hit A Block, Regardless Of What I Am Writing, What The Subject Matter Is, Or What's Going On In The Plot, I Go Back And I Read Pablo Neruda's Poetry. I Don't Actually Speak Spanish, So I Read It Translation. But I Always Go Back To Neruda. I Don't Know Why, But It Calms Me, Calms My Brain.

My Family Lived In Egypt From 1993 To 1996.

Kelly Link's Prose Is Conveyed In Details So Startling And Fine That You Work Up A Sweat Just Waiting For The Next Sentence To Land. This Is Why We Read, Crave, Need, Can't Live Without Short Stories.

For Me It Was A Lot Harder To Come To Terms With The Death Of My Grandfather Than It Was To Come To Terms With What's Happened To The Former Yugoslavia.

A Family Has Its Own Rituals And Its Own Superstitions.