Lisa Moore’un ödüllü romanı Timsah, Newfoundland’de süren uzak yaşam üzerine biçimlenmiş öykülerden kurulmuş. Edebiyat tarihindeki çok merkezli anlatım yöntemi benimsenerek yazılmış bu romanda, yer yer Faulkner’in Döşeğimde Ölürken’inden yer yer de Alfred Döblin’in Berlin-Aleksander Meydanı’ından...
Lisa Moore speaks my language, and in Degrees of Nakedness, her first short story collection from 2005, she speaks this language straight into the soul of me. I must confess that I don't always understand what Moore is talking about – she feints and flips and makes strange leaps – but on every pa...
She moves the candelabra in front of her husband. She says, I like aggressive men. I say, I like aggressive women. She dips her spoon into the mushroom soup. But this is delicious, she says. Vermouth, I say. On the way back from the liquor store a plastic bag of fierce yellow slapped against my s...
I’m leaving the back yard. Those weeds you spent half the summer thrashing have returned unscarred, thicker, greener, and the perfume from them makes the air moist. They grew back when you stopped to have a bottle of pop. We can’t just stop like that. These are the things I’m leaving. I’m leaving...
Barry said they could park the truck up in the White Hills.I’ll come get you, he said.That sounds nice, said Helen.You know, there by the school, the building, whatever it is they have up there.The building up there, Helen said.There’s a good view, Barry said.I’d say that’d be the spot, all right...
Felix is bouncing off the insides of the truck before we pull into the parking lot, and I’m having serious doubts that any new bathing suit is going to be worth the ordeal of the next hour. Miranda has a lifetime free pass to the gym/pool because one of her artist friends ...
I sit on the patio of Future Bakery waiting for him. Chilly, still. No leaves. But everybody, the bikes, a skirt flapping back off a thigh, the army boot touching down, a full stop. Red light, the bicycle. He’ll come around the corner. The cars are splats, blue, red, blooming and contracting in t...
He went to the office and picked it up, along with the driver’s licence and the birth certificate he’d mailed in, and then headed to the train station and bought a ticket. The formality of the photography studio and the blast of the flashbulb had rendered an unfamiliar loo...
Pierre. Maureen’s boyfriend, Antoine, has invited us to go sailing, but there’s something wrong with the engine, so we remain tied to the dock. The marina is a blast of white sails and the blue is very blue. We lie on the deck and suntan. I have a book by Marguerite Duras open on my stomach. Maur...