After the celebration and a near-sleepless night, I stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine, then the radio. A male voice came on. It said the Province of Alberta was in the grip of a weasels epidemic.
“The return of weasels is unprecedented,” a second voice said, sounding a note of panic. This one belonged to a doctor. “We thought weasels had been eradicated generations ago, and yet here we are again, having learned nothing.”
Continue reading “Little John”
I’m reading an English translation of The Flaw, a Greek mystery thriller by Antonis Samarakis. That characterization, mystery thriller, isn’t quite right. In fact, the book does not fit into any single category. It’s just too strange and funny and destabilizing. It dwells on banal events, some of which later turn out to be not so banal. Flits between one character’s point of view and another’s. Never pretends to know what any character is thinking or feeling, which leaves you wondering that you’re thinking and feeling. About the book, I mean.
Continue reading “Fishing for Food and Meaning in Chania”
because i said 