If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen the celebrity review of A Constellation of Half-Lives.* In the video, the celebrity (my mother) says, “Seema, please explain,” and reads a line of the opening poem out loud. It’s very funny, because of course, she turns the “your mother” into a question about my mother which is to…
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This morning I stumbled from bed at 5 am in search of a book that I must have dreamed about, a collection of essays by V.S. Naipaul called Literary Occasions, which I read more than a decade ago. My conscious mind can’t remember even things I wrote myself, but in my sleep I remember literary criticism and theory…
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I spent the weekend seeking out normal–an elusive concept I had proudly let go of. I watched movies I’ve watched before (that’s right, I watched movies), I roasted a chicken, sat by the pool. Last week was the sort that knocks everything askew–it was as if the tripod my worldview balances on lost a screw…
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