My doorbell rings. I open the door to find a tall, good-looking boy standing there. He stands cockily with his legs apart – his weight resting firmly and equally on both long limbs. He’s got big, wonderful eyes that …
We had a few hours to burn at Ataturk Airport, Istanbul. The chap I was travelling with, Shukri Adan of Turkish Airlines, looked at his watch and said, “I will be at the bookstore, D&R, down that way. Si …
I interview John Sibi Okumu in his house, up in his study which sits in an attic, where the roof plunges and rises like a wave. His whole study is a woodland of books. Hundreds and hundreds of books …
My dad has no sense of humor. He will turn on the charm when he wants to, but he lacks a single funny bone in his body. I can picture him in his younger years, in the 60’s, sporting …
Junot is the shit. And not just because he earned a Pulitzer for his first book – The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao – which I’m currently reading, but because he writes sentences …
