about life as it might be lived

I have written and spoken elsewhere about my debt to the oral narrative traditions of India, and also to those great Indian novelists Jane Austen and Charles Dickens—Austen for her portraits of brilliant women caged by the social convention of their time, women whose Indian counterparts I knew well; Dickens for his great, rotting, Bombay-like city, and his ability to root his larger-than-life characters and surrealist imagery in a sharply observed, almost hyperrealistic background, out of which the comic and fantastic elements of his work seem to grow organically, becoming intensifications of, and not escapes from, the real world.

Introduction to Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie (via microboz)

I so love both these authors and for so many of the same reasons. Despite the fact that they’re out of my time period, they were such incredible influences on the authors I study.

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Posted 2 weeks ago

beach beach beach

Does DC even have a beach? (Is that a dumb question? I feel like maybe I should know this. Also be less sunburned before I go and sit on a beach.)

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Posted 2 weeks ago

Zoom

My favorite part of Faneuil Hall. All the lols.

(Source: kimkimbar)

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(Source: bostonianresolution)

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I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! — When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (via iwasdamned)

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about life as it might be lived

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