Yiyun Li in The New Yorker:
Despite my rudimentary understanding of the language, most evenings, after lights-out, I would sneak away to the platoon storage room, where I could take a leave from my small miseries—the bullying of the officers, the dreariness of the combat drills—and enter a world filled with dramas of love and death and madness.
Li’s choices at the time were Dickens, Hemingway, Hardy, and D.H. Lawrence. What authors did you use to block out the rest of the world?
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