Posts Tagged: Valeria Luiselli
Vivien Goldman and Sarada Rauch join the Segue Series. Zinc Bar, 4:30 p.m., $5.
Sunday 5/21: Tobias Carroll, Julia Strayer, Bruna Dantas Lobato, M’Bilia Meekers, and Piper Weiss join the Pigeon Pages reading series....more
I say without irony that Laia and I observe each other with a kind of “epistemological distance.” We follow and keep each other company with a precise balance of mutual admiration and respect, and a capacity for honest, sharp criticism. We question each other constantly, even when we don’t actually pose questions.
It’s December, that magical time of year when newspapers and websites across the globe unveil their “Best of the Year” lists. Valeria Luiselli has been all over them with her innovative novel The Story of my Teeth, and lucky for us, this week Guernica gifted us a new Luiselli short story, “Shakespeare, New Mexico,” translated by Christina MacSweeney....more
While reviewing Valeria Luiselli’s The Story of My Teeth over at the Los Angeles Review of Books, Aaron Bady considers the rise of Mexican literature post-Roberto Bolaño:
Roberto Bolaño’s popularity in English over the last decade or so has had a profound effect on publishers.
To write her new novel, The Story of My Teeth, Valeria Luiselli got ongoing book club feedback from workers at the Jumex factory featured in the novel. Over at Broadly, Luiselli talks to Lauren Oyler about her process, a childhood spent moving, and how to use—rather than abuse—the personal in essays:
I think that maybe there is too much emphasis on voice, especially when writing personal essays, and less care [with] a gaze, a way of saying.
I sometimes teach Spanish to a lot of undergraduates at Columbia, which is something that I love. It gives me the illusion, hopefully not a delusion, that more and more young people are learning Spanish going on to professions that perhaps didn’t require Spanish earlier.
At the New Yorker, Valeria Luiselli gives us an essay in defense of monuments, libraries, park benches, daughters, Dickinson, and ‘simplicissimusses’:
In that first New York of my early twenties, I decided that I despised writers who admitted to crying over art or beauty or solitude, those who indulged in elevated states of mind.
BOMB Magazine’s gotten a hold of Valeria Luiselli, and it’s really a treat to behold; asked about the fluidity of fiction in her essays, her response was more than candid:
Well, that’s the whole point; there are no rules in fiction even if creative writing programs everywhere have tried to make people believe there are.