The last of the Caine Prize events is a seminar this afternoon at 1.30 pm at the Institute for English Studies, Senate House, University of London. Tickets cost £15 (£10 for concessions) and can be booked by calling 020 7862 8675.
There will be another reading at 8.15 pm tonight, this one organised by the South Bank Centre, in association with the Caine Prize, and hosted by Jon Snow. Tickets for the reading can be booked online or by phoning 0870 160 2522.
I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but four of the pieces from Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits are being staged in November at the Beverly Hills Public Library in Los Angeles. The event is part of Sally Shore’s New Short Fiction Series, which is now in its tenth year.
Anyway, the reason I’m posting about it now is that Ms. Shore is currently casting the shows and she is looking for male and female Arab-American actors. Interested actors should be based in L.A., and should email their picture and resume to bbprods AT newshortfictionseries DOT com no later than June 14th. Good luck.
A couple of days ago, I was interviewed by Kenza Alaoui for the Moroccan newspaper Le Matin, and the article is now online.
I had several days here in London to get to know the writers with whom I was shortlisted for this year’s Caine Prize, and plenty of time to read all the stories. I was impressed by the affection that Sefi Atta has for her characters, regardless of their moral failings, in “The Last Trip,” the story of a Nigerian drug mule who is forced to take her disabled son with her. I think Darrel Bristow-Bovey’s ear for dialogue is absolutely uncanny, as is his ability to tell a story almost entirely through that medium. His writing in “A Joburg Story” has music and texture to it, something that so few writers are able to accomplish. I greatly admired Muthoni Garland’s “Tracking the Scent of My Mother,” which combines an unusual structure with a very strong, literary voice–it was probably my favorite story among the five on the shortlist. And I loved Mary Watson’s “Jungfrau,” the story of a young girl trying to figure out the meaning of love in a household divided by different allegiances. I was particularly taken with the surprise that lurks between her sentences.
Last night, all the shortlisted writers were driven to Oxford for a reception in the garden of Exeter College. I was amused that so many people came up to ask, “Are you nervous?” And it didn’t seem to matter how many times one said that, “No, actually, I’m not,” that sort of answer didn’t seem to satisfy. Later, we had dinner at the Bodleian Library. I was hoping we might get a glimpse of the inside (it is, after all, the largest collection outside of the British Library), but the event was held in a special hall, far away from the stacks. The panel of judges singled out Mary Watson from South Africa for “Jungfrau,” and she got up to give a brief speech and answer questions. Many congratulations to her. You can read more about the event at the BBC.
I’m sorry it’s been so quiet here. I had every intention of writing more about my trip, but I’ve been so distraught by the news out of Gaza that it’s been hard to blog. I’ve started several posts about the events, but then I get too angry and I have to stop, because, really, who needs another angry rant? There’s enough of those to last us a lifetime. I long for something perceptive or illuminating, or at the very least instructive, and I know I am not capable of it at the moment.
So I’ve tried to distract myself, by going to the Tate Modern (a special Kandinsky show was all the excuse I needed.) I’ve also had long evening hours to devote to reading and writing (thanks to jet lag). I’ve just started reading Hisham Matar’s In The Country of Men, which is out this week in the UK, but I don’t know if or when it’s out in America. It’s gotten quite a bit of attention, and so far it’s pretty good. And–this is the best part–I’ve managed to revise one chapter from my novel, and begin another. So it’s six down, six to go, and the process is still incredibly full of joy. I really just want to be left alone to finish the book.
But of course last night, I spent the entire evening watching the World Cup finals. What a delight it was to finally have commentators on TV who know something about the game–not like those poor ESPN blokes who try to fill the time by reading the player bios. What a disappointment, though. I was rooting for Italy, but even though they won, Zidane’s behavior made it impossible to really enjoy the result. He’s always been an aggressive player, but last night he completely lost his marbles. What a sad end to a brilliant career.
I’m off to Oxford in a little while, to attend the celebratory dinner for the Caine Prize at the university’s Bodleian Library. I’ve heard so much about the library; I hope we can get a tour.