I recently played through Year Walk on the computer. It’s a very short game, but the journal you unlock by beating the game is a sweet addition. Here are my game “notes”:
Month: April 2015
Fountain Reading: Seminary Co-Op
On April 15, 2015, I read from Fountain at the Seminary Co-Op Bookstore in Chicago. You can listen to a recording of the reading (and following questions) here:
The Chicago Maroon wrote a fun article about the event. A couple of quotes follow:
At the event, John Wilkinson, Associate Chair for Creative Writing and Poetics in the English department, spoke briefly about his experience teaching Hughes in his core class on creative writing. Hughes’s unique anti-realist style made an early impression on Wilkinson. “It is unusual for an undergraduate to present for their first creative writing class something that has nothing to do with his or her family or miserable or ecstatic love life or any other autobiographical stuff,” Wilkinson said. “This unusual student seemed engaged by what fiction alone might make possible in the way of thinking.”
“I’ve always written a little as a thing to do outside of science and other things … But at one point I decided I needed to write a novella because I had written short stories and somehow I accidently promised my dad I would write a novella,” Hughes said. “Once it was done I think it was better than other stuff I had written and that’s why I wanted to get it published.”
I added an events calendar to my website. You can access it by pressing the button on the left labeled “☰” or by going to totehugh.es/calendar. I have three book-related events coming up:
- A signing at AWP (150409)
- A reading at Miami University (150413)
- A reading in Chicago (150415)
Come support me if you can!
Edwin Lord Weeks
Edwin Lord Weeks was an American artist who traveled extensively in the late nineteenth century. Here’s an odd quote from his diary, The Black Sea Through Persia And India:
Outside Turkomanshai, September 17, 1892: Here, as elsewhere near a village, we are beset with cats—not that we regard them with antipathy, but there really are too many cats. They seem to spring up from the ground, and curl themselves snugly in our beds. When they have been expelled they make a semblance of retreating, but return again to take refuge among our bags and carpets. At the dinner hour they prowl about the door of the tent in anticipation of bones, and pass like illuminated silhouettes across the track of the lantern light.