A genealogy of shadows
In September 1941, Walter Andreas Hofer, special art agent for Hermann Goering, was breathlessly scouring France for any and all works that might make suitable additions to his employer’s ambitious, almost gargantuan art collection. Far too often for his liking, he found himself in a mightily frustrating predicament: sequestering individual pieces or whole collections from...
Bat wings
Slowly, its vintage engine purring, the Plymouth stops at the gates of the Lund twins’ dreaded Hollywood Hills mansion. The Final Gates. The final stop on the Blood girls’ trip. Now that she’s right in front of them, Morgana can’t see anything about the gates that indicates they are the last gates she’s ever going...
Channelling the dark stuff
The novel currently on my bookrest is 748 pages long, a new record for me. As I near the end, my left wrist is acting up. I am impressed as the approximately 235,000 words accumulate in my own Word document. It’s got me thinking about the translator as a conduit, both physical and otherwise. I’m...
Sea
The strongest waves reach our feet, covering them with sand and foam, and Hana lets out peals of laughter and splashes, splattering everywhere. Her sweet, chubby, gap-toothed face never tires of smiling, and every time she wants to show me something she pulls on my fingers with her small, thin hand. Is it like this,...
