News

Fifty years after her death, Frida Kahlo’s letters to one of her best friends, Dr. Leo Eloesser, have been released, and are now published in Mexico, under the title My Beloved Doctor.The letters had been kept sealed on Diego Rivera’s orders for all this time, but now visitors to the Kahlo family home in Mexico City can see the letters, and other artifacts, displayed for the first time. I am a huge fan of Frida Kahlo’s–maybe someday I can finally, finally, visit her house.

Photo: Las Dos Fridas. Via.

Dan Olivas reviews Dahlia Season, the debut collection of stories by Long Beach author Myriam Gurba for the El Paso Times.

We were driving along a beach road with a couple of friends when a cop stopped us. I was sitting in the back, but being the only Darija speaker in the car, I lowered my window, ready to translate. “You went up a one-way street,” the policeman said. “License and registration.”

I apologized and explained we had not seen the sign. (Later, we drove by again and saw that it was partially covered by shrub.)

“I have to write you up. The ticket’s going to be 400 dirhams.”

Upon hearing my translation of what the cop said, my husband, clearly unaware of how these things are supposed to be handled, immediately whipped out the money from his wallet. (You are supposed to start by saying you’re very sorry, you were distracted, and yes you made a big mistake; you’re busy, so you don’t have time to deal with the paperwork; how you wish you could come to an understanding… and then you would bargain the cop down to about 1/3 of the ticket price–about 130 dirhams in this case. My husband had skipped all these steps, and was ready to hand the entire amount over. )

The cop, a tall and lanky fellow with a thin mustache, got very nervous, and walked away. He went to the intersection and directed traffic for a few minutes, before coming back.

“So,” he asked, “what are you all doing here? Are you tourists?”

“No, sir,” I said. “I’m here for research. But my friends are tourists.”

As soon as he heard the word “research,” he looked scared. He handed Alex his money back. “We don’t want to give tourists a bad image of the country. Here. Just pay attention next time.”

I had no idea that “research” was such a red flag for cops.

As has been widely reported, the longlist for the Booker Prize was announced. I was pleased to see Mohsin Hamid’s The Reluctant Fundamentalist included, but surprised that J. M. Coetzee’s new book, Diary of A Bad Year, was not. Still, it’s nice to see younger authors get a shot. (The shortlist will be announced on September 6 and the winner on October 16.)

Alain Mabanckou’s new book, Lettre à Jimmy, has just been published by Fayard in France. As the title suggests, it’s essentially an homage to James Baldwin in epistolary form. If you read French, you can check out an excerpt on Mabanckou’s blog.