The characters in Yasuko Thanh's stories are whirlwinded out of their routine lives, whether because they stepped into the chaos or because it was heading straight for them. They nurse their lovers through illness (or don't). They make remedies from flowers and roots (or smoke them). They see ghosts (or
It's not something you hear much about anymore: once, people more commonly pitched fits, threw fits, had fits, staged fits. Hissy fits. Crying fits. (Now rants and tantrums.) A fit of rage. A fit of pique. A fit of temper. Blustery and ephemeral. Unpredictable and dramatic. Fits, whether in human nature
"I'd be way more content if I didn't always have to take myself with me wherever I go. I'm walking around in a fog, with my hands out, feeling blindly. I stand outside of the action, watching, all alone. I am alone." Harper Collins, 2012 That's Morris in
One imagines these are the kind of stories that erupt from a phrase overheard at a restaurant or eavesdropped from a park bench. Cormorant Books, 2012 These are not the kinds of stories that come complete with detailed descriptions and backgrounds; it`s hard to imagine Cary Fagan filling
"If we’re lucky, art can help us through our wolfishness."* And it does, indeed, help Virginia get through her wolfishness. As does her sister, Vanessa. And the painting of Bloomsberry. What's this? A children's book about Virginia Woolf? But we all know how THAT story ends. And, yet,
