Ned Hayes's Blog, page 157
August 22, 2013
"Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare-limbed...
"Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare-limbed trees. Far below lies the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it.
My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place—and now the village of Duns looks so small. I hold up my hand, form a circle with my fingers. The distant village, wreathed in mist, seems a child’s plaything that I can hold in my own hand.”
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PHOTO: ryan voetsch
August 21, 2013
"We struggle across that last stretch of open road as if we swim...
"We struggle across that last stretch of open road as if we swim through an ice-choked river. Far ahead, it seems to me there is a square opening — a gap of light where we can see inside the Monastery. Firelight, steaming pots, a long pathway. A great house — it seems to me, in this uncertain light — a mansion of many rooms."
— from the novel SINFUL FOLK
August 20, 2013
"Stars flicker above, points of bright ice in a dark river. I...
"Stars flicker above, points of bright ice in a dark river. I pull a heavy sheepskin around my legs and stretch my feet towards the fire. Despite the cold, Liam plays his flute, the sound whistling through the night. Soon my eyes are heavy, my head nodding."
— from the novel Sinful Folk
SOURCE: noahsiano: More Stars ⸗ Noah Siano
"I worry when somebody from one particular tradition stands up and says, ‘The novel is dead. The..."
- Chinua Achebe, a man who leveraged the full humanistic potential of literary writing. Rest in peace. (via grayandgreen)
August 19, 2013
”The sound of a distant ocean covers me with...
”The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide that bears me back eternally into the past, back to the place where I was born.
People come through the whiteness, through the bright light, but all of them are ghosts. The day before she died, my mother did something inexplicable. She took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea.
The thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the breaking rhythm never ceasing. My mother waited until we were out of sight of land. She squinted against the bright sunlight, making sure of our isolation. And then she taught me something: strange words in a foreign tongue, a lilting sing-song rhythm to it.”
— from the novel Sinful Folk
The House With the Mezzanine, Anton Chekhov [translation:...
The House With the Mezzanine, Anton Chekhov [translation: Robert Payne]
August 18, 2013
"As I came out of the woods, I saw a little light in a wattled...
"As I came out of the woods, I saw a little light in a wattled house built in a dark hollow. Inside, I found that the evening joined us, for there was something unusual here – holes in the walls covered with thin oilcloth. The light outside – the dusky twilight now – suffused the space."
— from the novel Sinful Folk
August 17, 2013
"Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included...
"Spring grew into summer, and the rhythm of my life now included Nell. I learned that her secret thyme and mint beds were deep in the woods, out by the chuckling stream that disappeared underground.
She gathered plants she needed every day, and she was as a child who gathers flowers in May, setting them in bundles, choosing with caprice, singing to them, naming each plant and leaf with fondness. She danced in the sunlight and the shade. Even watching her a moment, my spirits lifted.”
— from the novel SINFUL FOLK
An interview with Khaled Hosseini
Qualities you need to get through medical school and residency: Discipline. Patience. Perseverance. A willingness to forgo sleep. A penchant for sadomasochism. Ability to weather crises of faith and self-confidence. Accept exhaustion as fact of life. Addiction to caffeine a definite plus. Unfailing optimism that the end is in sight.
Qualities you need to be a novelist: Ditto.
