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Vol. 16, Summer 2010

Fiction | Japan
A Little Darkness (extract) Banana Yoshimoto
I wandered slowly among the graves, the sun beating down hard on everything. I passed by Evita’s grave again, looking at all the different dedications and at the sparkling flecks in the granite. Then I sat down to rest for a while on the root of an enormous tree. The faint breeze dried my sweat. Why do graveyards always have trees like this, with branches that droop down low to the ground? Are they here to comfort the dead, or do they grow so large by sucking up their energy?

Memoir | China
Grandma's Casket Wen Huang
When I was nine, I slept next to a coffin. It was a heavy pinewood box covered in traditional Chinese carvings. It belonged to Grandma. My father had it made for her seventy-third birthday and referred to it as ‘shou-mu’, which means something like ‘longevity’, but it was still the casket in which Grandma would be buried and I slept next to it every night. I could tell no one about it because there was superstition involved, and superstition was forbidden.

Interview | South Korea
Chang-Rae Lee Anis Shivani
There were some protests in New York, boycotts of Korean stores, greengrocers, so those were the kinds of things that more pointedly influenced what I was writing. The profound eruption of racial tension was definitely on my mind. And there was also a lot of stuff in terms of immigrants. There was the Golden Venture, where the Chinese were smuggled over on a big boat and washed ashore. Many of them died. So there was a lot of tumultuous activity.

Photography | Bali
Crop Stars Palani Mohan
Such is its significance in Balinese life that rice has become the foundation of an elaborate cult and is revered in religious rites. The gods are invoked to ensure healthy crops and abundant water; magic spells are cast to banish from the paddy fields thieves in the guise of mice or birds.
From the Editor
Reportage | India
No Country for Old Women: Sandip Roy on ageing in unprecedented numbers
Reportage | Thailand
Weapons of Mass Disinformation: Gary Jones reports from Bangkok
Essay | Laos
Looking for Laos: Tippaphon Keopaseut considers whether national sensibilities are forged through the use of language
China Forward Justin Hill
Singapore Grasshoppers O Thiam Chin
Hong Kong It's all in the Silhouette Steven Hirst
India The Maharaja and the Accountant Jaina Sanga
D Rege, Kate Rogers, Kristine Ong Muslim, Min K Kang, Ocean Vuong, Thomas R Moore
 
Every morning at the Baroda Palace, a turbaned guard dressed in a white uniform, a sword strapped to his waist, trudged up thirty steps to a turret, blew a few notes into a battered bugle and hoisted a flag of the British Empire. The flag was red and blue with a gold star of India in the centre. Every evening, the guard sounded the bugle again and lowered the flag. After ironing and folding it into a precise square, he carried it on his outstretched arms into the maharaja’s library. — The Maharaja and the Accountant
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Asian literature,Asian writers,Asian writing,Chinese literature,Chinese writing,Asian American writing