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Oranges and Snow
My days will be a row of milk pails / and buckets filled with midnight liquids / darker and thicker than melted pitch, / so that in the end… More
Turkish PEN’s Ragip Zarakolu Sends Open Letter from Prison
Earlier this week, PEN reported that publisher, writer, rights advocate, and leading Turkish PEN Member Ragip Zarakolu was arrested in a roundup of writers and scholars in Turkey last… More
Turkish PEN’s Ragip Zarakolu Sends Open Letter from Prison
[caption id="attachment_5666" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Ragip Zarakolu in Oslo"][/caption] Earlier this week, PEN reported that publisher, writer, rights advocate, and leading Turkish PEN Member Ragip Zarakolu was arrested in a roundup… More
The Test (Good Simon Korach)
I’ll start with the tongue. And a box cutter. Which I’ll use to hack that flap of flesh out of her mouth so the world is spared her lies.… More
Free Expression in RSA: A Conversation with South African PEN’s Margie Orford
South Africa ended a civil war not through a fight to the death, but rather by saying we’ll just stop fighting and have a braii (barbecue) together and be… More
For Occupy Berlin: A Song and a Prayer
This past week I visited Occupy Berlin, a movement inspired by Occupy Wall Street in New York (and also, of course, by the recent demonstrations in Spain and above… More
Hocus Bogus
There is no beginning. I was begotten—just like you—and since then I’ve been lumbered. More
PEN Appeal: Ragip Zarakolu and Bü?ra Ersanl?
October 31, 2011 Minister of Justice Mr. Sadullah Ergin 06669 Kizilay Ankara Turkey Fax: 00 90 312 419 3370 Your Excellency, On behalf of the 3,500 members of PEN American Center, an international organization of writers… More
PEN Appeal: Deniz Zarakolu
October 27, 2011 Minister of Justice Mr. Sadullah Ergin 06669 Kizilay Ankara Turkey Fax: 00 90 312 419 3370 Your Excellency, On behalf of the 3,500 members of PEN American Center, an international organization of writers… More
The Noble Truths of Suffering
His head resembled an armchair—the deep-set forehead, the handlebar-like ears, the jutted jaw-seat—and I could not stop staring at it. He handed me back my passport with the invitation… More