Another post, another approaching deadline . . .
assembling writers from various cultural backgrounds broadens the scope of each individual’s work. Exposure to regional and national trends in literature, to multiple political and economic obstacles and varied social and cultural milieus enhances each writer’s understanding of his/her work, as well as his/her own notions of identity and home.
The incredibly well-connected and always busy DW Gibson helps run both of these residencies, and he recently sent me a call for applications for the upcoming residency season that I thought some of you might be interested in. I’ve never been to Sangam House (though I’d love to go), but if it’s anything at all like Ledig House, it’s sure to be amazing.
You can download the word file linked to above to get all the details about applying for the 2010-2011 residencies, but here are the basics:
The Sangam House Writer’s Residency Program invites approximately 15-20 writers to live and work in community with each other. There will be two segments for the upcoming program.
The first half of the residency will take place from November 6, 2010-December 7, 2010 at Adishakti property outside Pondicherry, on the east coast of southern India. The second segment of the residency will take place from January 5, 2011- February 16, 2011 at the Nrityagram property outside of Bangalore.
Lodging (single rooms) and food will be provided free of charge. Each writer is responsible for travel costs to and from Pondicherry. However, travel funds and bursaries are available through various cultural organizations.
Residencies are structured in 2-10 week intervals, determined by individual needs. We recommend a residence period of no less than 2 weeks for each writer. Of the invited writers, half come from the South Asian subcontinent (India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Bhutan, Nepal, and Sri Lanka) and half from other countries around the world. Sangam House is open to writers in all languages and disciplines.
To apply you need to submit two letters of recommendation, a copy of a previously published book (or 25-page sample), and a one-page statement about what you plan on doing during your stay.
Deadline is June 30th. (More than two weeks from now! Plenty of time . . .)
Kamal Jann by the Lebanese born author Dominique Eddé is a tale of familial and political intrigue, a murky stew of byzantine alliances, betrayals, and hostilities. It is a well-told story of revenge and, what’s more, a serious novel that. . .
While looking back at an episode in his life, twenty-year-old Taguchi Hiro remembers what his friend Kumamoto Akira said about poetry.
Its perfection arises precisely from its imperfection . . . . I have an image in my head. I see. . .
The central concern of Sorj Chalandon’s novel Return to Killybegs appears to be explaining how a person of staunch political activism can be lead to betray his cause, his country, his people. Truth be told, the real theme of the. . .
Spoiler alert: acclaimed writer Stefan Zweig and his wife Lotte kill themselves at the end of Lauren Seksik’s 2010 novel, The Last Days.
It’s hard to avoid spoiling this mystery. Zweig’s suicide actually happened, in Brazil in 1942, and since then. . .
To call Kjell Askildsen’s style sparse or terse would be to understate just how far he pushes his prose. Almost nothing is explained, elaborated on. In simple sentences, events occur, words are exchanged, narrators have brief thoughts. As often as. . .
After a mysterious woman confesses to an author simply known as “R” that she has loved him since she was a teenager, she offers the following explanation: “There is nothing on earth like the love of a child that passes. . .
Floating around the internet amid the hoopla of a new Haruki Murakami release, you may have come across a certain Murakami Bingo courtesy of Grant Snider. It is exactly what it sounds like, and it’s funny because it’s true,. . .
The publisher’s blurb for Oleg Pavlov’s The Matiushin Case promises the prospective reader “a Crime and Punishment for today,” the sort of comparison that is almost always guaranteed to do a disservice to both the legendary dead and the ambitious. . .
One hundred years have passed since the start of World War I and it is difficult to believe that there are still novels, considered classics in their own countries, that have never been published in English. Perhaps it was the. . .
In the London of Hédi Kaddour’s Little Grey Lies, translated by Teresa Lavender Fagan, peace has settled, but the tensions, fears, and anger of the Great War remain, even if tucked away behind stories and lies. Directly ahead, as those. . .