We craft and tell stories because we’ve stood on the uncertain edge between the waking world and our imagination, between enchantment and fear. And we remember other stories that help us build our own stories, scraps of lumber and fragments of narrative we gather together to make stories for ourselves.
Walking by the Phoenix Photograph by Kenny Louie.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been pondering here about stories that speak from wounded, devastated earth—that come out of a place of suffering together with the world we inhabit.
“The world is made of dirt. A rock doesn’t have feelings.” The flaccid man in the documentary glared out of the monitor at me accusingly, as if he suspected me of once being nice to…Continue Reading
As I was working on research for something else entirely, I stumbled upon a collection of Monguor folktales, collected from Qinghai in northwest China. This was a cultural tradition I wasn’t familiar with, and with…Continue Reading
August 20, 2010 --- Dinosaur skeletons in the desert --- Image by © MARK GARLICK/Science Photo Library/Corbis
Every day at 5.30 p.m., just outside the university campus where I live, someone blows up a mountain.
The new issue of Unsettling Wonder ‘Why Would Anyone Enchant That?’ is now available. A little girl accidentally turns the sky to lemonade. A fragile witch tries to make a child out of wood. An armchair…Continue Reading
By popular demand, we’ve made Jane Yolen’s new poetry collection Sister Fox’s Field Guide to the Writing Life available in paperback. If you missed your chance to buy the limited edition, or want an affordable…Continue Reading
