May is turning Sunday Salon upside down and inside out with the arrival of SKIN, THE AMBASSADORS, GHOST MONTH, and DEMON ROOM. No, not the latest erotic, political thriller, horror series on Netflix, but compelling work by four mega-talented writers. And Brooklyn is in the house! Join us for what will be a terrific event. At Jimmys no. 43. 7pm.
Literary stars are shining on the Sunshine State! Sunday Salon Ft. Lauderdale is excited to welcome two more wondrous writers to the stage for the second installment of its already awe-inspiring series. The event will be sponsored by Burrow Press. At Undergrounds Coffeehaus at 3020 N Federal Hwy (map). 6:30pm. Come raise a glass to the stars!
We’re thrilled to welcome the newest arrival to the family: Sunday Salon South Florida! That’s right, the sister series is coming to Ft. Lauderdale and Miami to be exact! (Yes, we love books, beaches, and sun!)
Achy Obejas is the author of the critically acclaimed novels Ruins (Akashic Books, 2009), Days of Awe (Random House, 2001) and two other books of fiction. Her poetry chapbook, This Is What Happened in Our Other Life (A Midsummer Night’s Press, 2007), was both a critical favorite and a best-seller. She edited, and translated into English, Havana Noir (Akashic Books, 2007), a collection of crime stories by Cuban writers on and off the island. Her translation into Spanish of Junot Diaz’ The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Riverhead, 2009)/La Breve y Maravillos Vida de Oscar Wao (Vintage/Mondadori) was a finalist for Spain’s Esther Benitez Translation Prize from the national …
By René Georg Vasicek Ask the Dust is a dangerous book. Arturo Bandini, the narrator, is a terrorist of the mind. He explodes reality and makes you believe in the urgency of now: “Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town.”
I didn’t think literature was possible in Los Angeles, and then I read Ask the Dust (1939) by John Fante. At the time I thought I was finished with American novels, too busy devouring the Europeans: Knut Hamsun, Robert Musil, Bohumil Hrabal, Thomas Bernhard, W.G. Sebald. Then one day I was killing time at the New York Public …
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