My summer in England

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London: I spent five weeks with my family, and it was a wonderful time. Writing in my mother’s sewing room wasn’t always easy, and I underestimated how much money I would spend in the city, but I was glad to put some breathing room between my MFA and me. The course has been great all year–but it is overwhelming. I felt myself get lighter once I’d moved an ocean away.

If London is not the greatest city in the world, then the burden of proof is on New York, Tokyo and the rest. I took some visiting friends from New Jersey to Camden, and one remarked, “It’s like [Philadelphia's] South Street, but bigger and cooler.” I lived in north west London, between Camden Town and Hampstead, both of them city centres in their own right, and when I travelled down to Chelsea, by the river, it too was a city centre, and looking in every direction London spread out, always varied. I shopped in farmers’ markets and I saw six plays. Stoppard’s Arcadia and the Sam Mendes production of The Winter’s Tale were probably the best–both left me with an awe and wonder that still comes back to me now, weeks later.

I met many old friends, I wrote, and now I’m glad to be back in America, preparing for the next semester. I’m taking my ever changing novel in Taiwan to a novel writing course taught by Adam Mansbach, and I’m designing a syllabus for two new classes of undergraduates.

Best wishes.

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