The setting is evocative and the issues are profound. The speculative fiction story explores the perils and pleasures of motherhood, how mothers judge one another, how women can often disappear into motherhood - and into aging - and how sometimes they can find themselves again.
Save Alexis Schaitkin, author of "Elsewhere": Alexis Schaitkin joins Marrie Stone to talk about her latest novel, Elsewhere (to be published by Celadon on June 28, 2022). For Schaitkin's fans, there's fun backstories on how she constructs her novels and the themes s by Writers on Writing: A Weekly Podcast for Writers, Readers, & Book Lovers For speculative fiction writers, there are insights for creating effective rules for your world. For novelists, there's mounds of advice for character development and structure. Schaitkin shares several backstories behind the novel, including the inspiration for this hauting fictional village, her many attempts to find her way into the story, how she let go of her expectations for the novel, and how she once again managed a large cast of characters. A Robin, who had been blown in with the last gust of wind a wretched little Sparrow, who twittered helplessly from time to time, and then hid her head ashamed at having been betrayed into such an exhibition of weakness in public an Owl, who, living habitually in the barn, regarded the others with suspicion as intruders, and possibly thieves and, lastly, two queer Japanese birds, who had lived all the summer on the ornamental lake in the garden.Alexis Schaitkin, author of "Elsewhere": Alexis Schaitkin joins Marrie Stone to talk about her latest novel, Elsewhere (to be published by Celadon on June 28, 2022). From time to time one of them would peer out at the leaden grey sky and the falling snowflakes, and then hide its head under its wing again to deaden the sound of the wind whistling through the crannies. The few birds left had found their way into the old barn for shelter, and were close together on a low bar of wood at the far end, where they sat ruffling their feathers and shivering.
Even beyond the little heap of snow, right inside the barn among the whisps of hay and straw, and beyond the pile of turnips piled up in one far corner, it was still bitterly cold and draughty. The North Wind howled round the barn, whirling the snowflakes into a little heap inside the half-open door.
0 kommentar(er)
