The past couple of years I have enjoyed paying more attention to how the seasons change and how my own habits change accordingly—including reading habits, which absorb a significant amount of time over the course of my weeks, months, and years. For you as well, I'm sure. I’ve had
In a sparsely furnished cosy (i.e. small) apartment at the age of eighteen, working multiple jobs and having little energy or money to do much in my off-hours (and no television), going to the library was my main source of entertainment for several years. And it seemed like, every
This year I’m focusing on anthologies and stories in magazines. Partly because I have eleventy-billion issues of The New Yorker around here that I’ve only partially read; partly because I always say that I want to read more anthologies but then I choose other books instead (I’m reading two,
I was reading Walter Scott’s The Heart of Midlothian (1818) as the borrowing days approached—days at the end of March, thought to have been borrowed from April so that winter could last just a few more stormy days. We had a most magnificent storm, which
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
