Category: personal

Audience: About 40.
Anxiety index: 3 (out of 10).
Surprise guest(s): Novelist Leila Aboulela.
No. of Moroccans who said hello: 0. (Where are you?)

What a different experience last night’s reading was. People sat perfectly still and silent through the event–no one was late, no one fidgeted, no one’s cell phone rang. All the other authors spoke with a very proper British accent, and then I came on, sounding like a total Yankee. (Ah, but there was once a time when my ts weren’t flapped, and when my os weren’t so open!) Anyway, the reading went well, and we answered some questions about our work: How do we write? Do we enjoy writing non-fiction? What authors have influenced you? This last question always stumps me–it’s so hard to pick just one or two writers because there are so many that I admire, and for different reasons. I cited Chinua Achebe, for the inspiration, J.M. Coetzee, for the precision of his language, and Ahdaf Soueif, for her ability to write beautiful English and yet also render the rhythm of Egyptian Arabic. But I could just as easily have said Mohamed Choukri, for the devotion to truth, or Vladimir Nabokov, for the lyricism of his texts, or Graham Greene, for the complexity of his characters, or Abdellatif Laabi, or Rachid Mimouni, or Leila Abouzeid, or Abdulrazak Gurnah and on and on.

The first of the Caine Prize readings takes place tonight at 7 pm, at the Royal Over-Seas League in London.:

Sefi Atta (Nigeria): “The Last Trip.”
Darrel Bristow-Bovey (South Africa): “A Joburg Story.”
Muthoni Garland (Kenya): “Tracking the Scent of My Mother.”
Laila Lalami (Morocco): “The Fanatic.”
Mary Watson (South Africa): “Jungfrau.”

Tickets cost £5 and are available from ROSL ARTS at 020 7408 0214 ext 324 or culture@rosl.org.uk. You can read some commentary about the prize in today’s International Herald Tribune.

It’s unbearably hot in London, which means it’s downright infernal in the subway (or the tube, I should say). People seem to be enjoying the weather, though, filling up streets and parks and gardens. Being here brings back so many good memories of my time at college–the visits to the Tate, the late dinners in Covent Garden, hanging out in Hampstead…and all the bookstores. I’ve already picked up a copy of Mohamed Choukri’s For Bread Alone, which I’m so excited about bringing back home for Alex to read. I envy him his first reading of it.

I am in London this week. My story “The Fanatic” (from Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits) is a finalist for The Caine Prize for African Writing, and I’m here for readings and other related festivities. It’s a bit odd to be in England on America’s independence day. I feel like wearing a flag or something. Anyway, I am off to explore the environs and to meet a friend for tea. More soon.

I was a guest on To The Best of Our Knowledge on Wisconsin Public Radio on Sunday, along with author Lila Azam Zanganeh, documentary filmmaker Liz Mermin, and activist Houzan Mahmoud to talk about women and Islam. You can listen to the show online.

I swear, I must have a big sign on my forehead that says: Weirdos Welcome. I had barely sat down in my seat on the plane back from DC than the man to my left turned to me and said, clearly enunciating every word as though I was slow or something: “Hello. My name is Adam. We can talk during the flight if you want. But if you don’t want to, then we don’t have to.” I hadn’t even fastened my seatbelt yet! I mean, what is it about me that I always get the crazy ones? He talked about himself for three hours and forty-five minutes.