On the 18th of August, 1903, Dorothy Edwards was born in the mining community of Ogmore Vale in southern Wales, to Edward and Vida, who met when he was a headmaster and she a teacher in the Tynewydd Infants and Juniors Mixed School. Dorothy’s fiction is an ironic choice
For ReadIndies this year, hosted by Kaggsy, I’ve written about presses from Minneapolis Minnesota, during the democratic crisis unfolding in the United States: Graywolf Press | Coffee House Press | Rain Taxi Magazine. (I should have included Milkweed Editions there!) Presses that push the boundaries and invite readers to
Perhaps independent presses are most vital in their willingness to confront, to engage with ideas and possibilities that make readers uncomfortable. Consider Mélikah Abdelmoumen’s book about reading James Baldwin and William Styron, which opens with this epigraph from Raoul Peck’s J’étouffe: “Forgive me in advance,
In the first week of rereading, I mentioned that what I remembered of my first reading was that it was fast and seemingly steady; I had forgotten all the different types of narratives (the newspaper articles and the excerpts from Laura’s novel) and remembered only Iris. One reason for
I’ve been wanting to read a Robert Louis Stevenson novel since I noticed Kaggsy @ Bookish Ramblings marking Robert Louis Stevenson Day several years ago. (If you’ve missed her writing, here’s a recent glimpse of her 2023 post and 2024’s.) It’s actually celebrated on November 13th, but I’m posting
