All posts tagged: Slider

spirited-away-dreamscape

The Ecological Imagination of Hayao Miyazaki, Orion Magazine

It’s not every day that you get to work on a dream project with a dream publication. I’m excited to share that I have a new piece up online at Orion magazine, exploring the ecological imagination of Hayao Miyazaki. Where the word for forest is silence A tree and troll to watch over me Carrying on through a wayward world Reading the wind, mending the earth An introduction to the work of the venerated Japanese animator/filmmaker (who happened to turn 80 this year), the piece is also a retrospective on four movies dearest to my heart: Princess Mononoke, My Neighbour Totoro, Spirited Away, and Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. Miyazaki tales were major sources of inspiration for me starting Ekostories—you can read everything I’ve written over the years in the archives HERE. And when you’re done, don’t forget to check out the rest of Orion’s latest issue (and hopefully subscribe!) It’s seriously fantastic both in terms of production value and in-depth content that explores the connections between people and nature. Here’s a snippet: …

Southern White Rhino

Second Best is Best, Gulf Coast Online

I’m particularly excited to announce that a new essay published online over at Gulf Coast, a journal co-founded by one of my favourite writers, Donald Barthelme. “Second Best is Best” is one in a collection I’m working on where I try to cram as many creatures and entities into a single piece of prose as possible and still have it be semi-coherent. Inspired by the whimsical journeys of Amy Leach’s Things That Are and the mental leaps in so much of Italo Calvino’s work (both writers I’ve written about in Ekostories), I wanted to craft something that highlights the riotous and irrepressible nature of this planet and its inhabitants, even as we live through tumultuous times. Here’s a quote: “Sometimes being at the top isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, like if you were declared the world’s tallest mountain one day by a Bengali mathematician and then named for a British surveyor you will never meet. The natural outcome of this is that tourists will start clambering over you, ascending your north and …

Tiny Molecules: One Summer, by Iceland

One more piece of news to cap off the year: I’m delighted to have found a home for a new story in the winter issue of Tiny Molecules, an online quarterly literary magazine of small fiction. “One Summer, in Iceland” features the titular island of fire and ice as protagonist, or so it seems: “Yesterday for the first time this spring the rains died the clouds broke and the sun held taut in the sky. The waterfall foam-frothed and rose the way it did and up arced a rainbow. Light pouring over fresh basalt curving out of the ground like a wing plume. Soon the terns and puffins will return to nest above where you stood. Soon the rock and salt and shit will meld and craze into life. As I watch this future happen I will nestle into the cleft between our two stones. When I lay down I will sigh my breath into the wind and take in your old scent.” You can read the whole story and other pieces of flash fiction, …

Flash Fiction Magazine: Last Light

I have a new piece of flash fiction (stories that are less than 1,000 words) over at Flash Fiction Magazine. “Last Light” uses the concept of lightspeed as a means to convey the time and distance necessary for healing: It’s been a thousand days since the sun died. Our star. My heart. It takes last light eight minutes to kiss the brow of the hill and home where we once were. Where little feet of twins pattered above our heads. Where the pampas grass in the yard grew tall and nodded in the summer breeze. It takes the morning to pack your belongings into the rental sedan. I’ll call you when I settle in. On that final sunbeam you rode away. In the driveway I stood and watched the light go.” You can read the full story and many others, published daily at Flash Fiction Magazine. Read the Full Story Here Photo credit: Jeremy Bishop

Hong Kong Cityscape

Place and Memory: Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities

I’m not sure how to describe Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities. It isn’t traditional fiction on a structural level, having no story arc or a defined ending. Nor is it conventional fantasy, doing away with the worlds it creates almost as soon as it forms them. Even the broadest definitions of historical fiction and magical realism don’t quite fit, as Calvino blends real and imagined details into a concoction of seemingly irreverent tales. Invisible Cities is a travelogue to places that do not exist. It is a work that brushes aside conventions of form and narrative to ruminate on ideas of memory and place, touching on everything from trajectory of civilizations to the limits of communication. At times delightfully whimsical and intensely melancholic, Invisible Cities is a testament to the power of an author at the height of his powers to provoke, enthrall, and connect.