Monday, April 13, 2026

The Night Tiger

 

The Night TigerThe Night Tiger by Yangsze Choo
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I felt like this was a small crash course on Malaysia in the 1950's--the food, culture, language, beliefs, traditions, industry, and attitudes about English colonialism. Then add a some magical realism, a mystery or two and an unusual romance. Perhaps it was a little over ambitious but I enjoyed the story and the characters and learned quite a bit about that part of the world (at least in that time period).

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A keramat animal is a sacred beast, a creature with the ability to come and go like a phantom, trampling sugarcane or raiding livestock with impunity.  It's always distinguished by some peculiarity, such a missing tusk or a rare albino color.  But the most common indicator is withered or maimed foot.

After all, weren't the Confucian Virtues supposed to describe the perfect man?  A man who abandoned virtue lost his humanity and became no better than a beast.  

The Snow Child

 

The Snow ChildThe Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A beautiful retelling of a Russian folk tale about a childless couple that builds a snow child that comes to life. The magic in this rendition is that it gives a rational explanation for the magical elements, but still leaves plenty unexplained questions that enchantment can exist if you want. The Alaskan wilderness is its own character, wonderfully described so that you could feel the cold and see the beauty and awe in such a wild place. The story helps us remember the magic and beauty in each child, that miracles can happen if we are willing to help each other, and that love for each other is precious because life is precarious. Very enjoyable book.

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So he, too, was graying.  Each of them fading away without the other's notice.

Wednesday, April 8, 2026

need

 

need


the geography of my need

is found in your knees,

--connective tissue holding

a petal of bone--

your bone a hillock

raising my diamond depression,

my ballerina-pink satin scar

kissing your sanguine red welt,

our two griefs mating into sunset.

when we stitch them together 

knock-kneed, three-legged,

arm in arm, let our 

free hands violently swing

else we come

tumbling down

my knee on your knee

like your teeth on my ear

like my nails on your throat