“It’s okay that Anne Shirley never became a writer,” offers Anya Jaremko-Greenwold in a recent Los Angeles Review of Books article cropping up on my Facebook feed. Women who loved Anne of Green Gables weighed in: “it’ll never be okay” (me), in defense of the wife/motherhood Anne chose (others), “I sort of get it” (my friend).
For those of us who hold this book as tightly as Anne Shirley holds everything, Anne will always be a mirror. Continue reading →
I am a tea-on-rainy-days and sweeping-skirts-in-rambling books kind of lady but I love me some UFC, and occasionally, an electrifying boxing match (see above!!). More than two men turning each other into well-tenderized meat to satisfy the blood lust of the masses, UFC is art painted with your fists. A good fight is brutal, funny and honest. A good fight is immediate.
And in our age of tweet wars and drone strikes and international quagmires, it feels good to see two people meet each other in an open space where the borders are well-defined. Continue reading →