How do you pronounce “boatswain”?
The Globe and Mail wins the prize for obscurity.
Have been travelling and writing, so it's only today that I have got back to this site, posting the first Letter from San Francisco by Berkeley writer Guy Tiphane and a new banner photograph by Judith Lermer Crawley.
A Letter from Berlin will be following by Christina Lembrecht, and I'm working on one or two others, including a regular film spot. Am also open to suggestion from writers who might have something to report from their corner of the world.
When I realized how big the international readership is of this site, I wanted to go out of my way to present material that will keep you visiting -- and encourage you to contribute your own thoughts.
Other changes in the works include introducing fiction and poetry in translation into English -- and, in the weeks to come, a new blog entirely in French. Not to mention, it's easier than ever to sign up and comment. The traffic is rising quickly -- we've drawn over 5,000 visitors in September, even though the site has been quiet for half the month -- and seems likely to continue bringing readers from all over together to talk about everything books are about.
And then, of course there will be the books themselves, which I will be starting to publish in the new year. Watch this space.
More and more people are stepping forward, making suggestions, and getting involved. Which is more and more fun, of course, and more and more work, as well, for a growing number of writers, reviewers, translators and photographers, as well as for myself.
So I am reminded of Phyllis Papoulias's great photo of a duck, which you might remember from the spring, when it was the banner photo for several weeks.
Here it is again, a gentle reminder to be serene on the surface while paddling hard underneath.
Linda Leith
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The Globe and Mail wins the prize for obscurity.
Tourists who really care to experience the living Venice should ask their gondoliers to forget “O sole mio” and “Torna a Surriento.” The real Venice is in songs like “Giudecca” and “Stucky.”
The Stucky Pool
There is a greater need than ever for the good smaller publisher. For those of us interested primarily in quality, in good books that speak to their time and place, the importance of the smaller publisher can hardly be overestimated. It is in the smaller companies that the writer-publisher relationship happens. And this, I would suggest, is where good books come from.
Not long ago I saw the extraordinary Marlene Dietrich in Shanghai Express, a Josef von Sternberg movie with wonderful black and white cinematography, much of which occurs on a train. In the film Dietrich utters the magnificent line, “it took more than one man to change my name to Shanghai Lily.” Presumably not all on the train, but one is allowed to imagine so.
Marylebone Station, London