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beverley bie brahic's Blog

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May.09.2012
May 15 Poetry Launch.jpg
And here's the flyer:
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May.08.2012
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Announcing the Canadian edition, and a reading to launch it next Wednesday, May 15, in Toronto at Ben McNally Books, 366 Bay Street, 6:30-8:00 pm.  Hope you can come!
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May.02.2012
White Sheets
It's easy to promote someone else's poems, even if you are the translator, but it's harder to talk about your own. So--I am excited but shy about announcing the publication of White Sheets--and can I add how happy writers are when people order their books?--which you can examine, virtually, at...
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Apr.29.2012
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This is just to say that three times today I wrote a blog post and lost it: once I pushed the wrong button, once my laptop ran out of juice, once it ran out of internet connection.  So for tonight I give up. Twice I wrote about Philip Gourevitch (author of We Wish to Inform you that Tomorrow...
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Apr.27.2012
I am putting off closing my computer, putting off changing and heading for the gym, where my rib cage and whatever the muscles are underneath is going to ache because I must have exercised them unreasonably much, coming back from three weeks of no gym--but lots of walking--in Paris and London. But...
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Apr.21.2012
Pond Inlet, Baffin Island
Two or three trivial things come back to me from our 6 weeks on the northern tip of Baffin Island. The first is the diapers. Our daughter was ten-months-old, and my mother can swear until she's red in the face that I was toilet-trained at six months (whence god knows what neuroses), my daughter...
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Apr.20.2012
Last night I closed the parenthesis, or so it seemed, of the past three weeks when I opened my Mac's Time and Date, and dragged the band of light across the Atlantic Ocean and the North American continent to California, and the time rolled back nine hours.  My husband's wake-up call was early...
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Apr.19.2012
According to the flight map we are over Scotland, either the Hebrides or Orkneys—the map is not precise enough to say.  In any case lake-pocked barren brown islands below the plane with occasional signs of settlements and a mold of green where the settlements are.  Cliffs, blue ocean,...
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Apr.18.2012
Worked all morning, translating and revising my own stuff.  Then lunch, called Helene, made appointment to talk with her later this afternoon, time allowing, about a pronoun problem.  Packed.  Trying to lob off household goods--the wedding crystal on the children--four wine glasses...
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Apr.16.2012
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Gosh, I love these slow northern dusks.  It's nine o'clock and it is just getting dark, and right on schedule the mysterious blackbirds are singing.  Maybe they are in the courtyard behind the hotel on the side street, I can see the top of a chestnut tree there, below all the steeply...
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Apr.16.2012
The church bells--restored to the North tower--are ringing twelve o'clock.  I was working, I stop, because, although I'd like to continue, I think I've reached the point where I can't see what I'm doing any more, it's like reading when your eyes begin to glide over the words, and your mind is...
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Apr.14.2012
9 pm, Saturday.  I'm closing the shutters on the street; the blackbird is singing.  It sounds like it is right across the street, but there is nothing but stone over there. And during the day, pigeons, and occasionally seagulls (and in the Garden there was a mallard couple this afternoon...
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Apr.12.2012
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8 am.  The street is quiet, the sky blue, the sun has laid a strip of light down the columns of the church.  Pigeons sunbathe on the ledges. Last night, shutting doors and windows (it was mild) before going to bed I heard the blackbirds again, where there seems to be nothing but stone....
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Apr.11.2012
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Night after night for two years I have been reading a couple of chapters of La Montagne de l'Âme (Soul Mountain) before falling asleep.  My bookmark is now at page 641, of 670 pages in all.  I think it is a great book, possibly one of the greatest I have ever read, although of course...
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Apr.11.2012
Ah, this is so irritating.  They are memorializing Richard Descoings across the street at 3 pm. From dawn they were out there power-hosing the sidewalks of dog shit and human piss and the other smells and detritus and signs of life. Lest a presidential candidate get his shoes soiled....
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