Cuatro de junio, 1909 de Alana Dapena Fraiz

Desde que embarcaron en el Baltic los hombres han matado las horas con largas conversaciones, lo cual a veces ha sido una salvación y otras una condena. Aquilino es de los que prefiere el silencio y poco tiene en común con estos hombres de mediana edad ya casados. Pero medio pueblo ha decidido emigrar a San Francisco así que Aquilino asume con resignación la compañía que le ha brindado el destino. 

Bloodstained Gardenias by Renzo Puntarelli Valenzuela

I close my eyes and remember the harrowing noises from the war; they are still damp with tears. I watch these memories all go by like a film; the people, the fear, that first time a bomb burst into the silence of the night. Sweet dreams shattered by a gunshot. I remember my people, the horror on their faces and the feelings come flooding back. I quickly got up from my bed and ran to find my little sisters in the room next to mine.  Everything was rumbling, the walls were cracking, the ceiling was cracking and the dust that had sat on the corners of the high walls, began to fall like snow on our heads. The smell of old, forgotten blood and fear filled the air.

La sangre de las gardenias de Renzo Puntarelli Valenzuela

Lo veo todo pasar como una película… la gente, el miedo… aquella vez, un bombazo irrumpió en el silencio de la noche, se quebrantaron los dulces sueños a golpe de fusil, recuerdo a mi gente, el horror de sus caras, se agolpan los sentires. Yo me levanté, velozmente del catre y corrí a buscar a mis pequeñas hermanas a la habitación contigua, todo retumbaba, mientras en las paredes se hacían grietas a mi paso, el techo se resquebraja y el polvo, acumulado en las cornisas de las altas paredes, empezaba a caernos como nieve sobre nuestras cabezas. El olor a viejo, olvidado, sangre y miedo impregnaba el ambiente.

Smoking kills (the story of a happy yet unlucky man) by  Clara Herrero Hernández

He smoked a lot during his first days in Germany. He smoked whilst he created a network of other foreign workers like him. He made good friends there, who he would play cards with and would go to watch Real Madrid play. He learned bits of various languages between puffs and sent money home and saved his own. He returned home to do his year of military service, where he was so well liked that they assigned him to be the chauffeur for some officials, and there too, he smoked, played cards, and told jokes. He had become the coffee machine, exhaling smoke, and providing comfort and encouragement.

Fumar Mata (la historia de un hombre feliz sin suerte) de Clara Herrero Hernández

Fumó mucho los primeros días en Alemania, mientras formaba una comunidad de otros trabajadores extranjeros como él. Hizo buenos amigos allí, con los que jugaba a las cartas e iba a ver jugar al Madrid cuando iban a Alemania. Aprendió algo de varios idiomas entre calada y calada, mandó dinero a casa y ahorró el propio. Volvió para cumplir su año en la mili, donde cayó tan bien que lo destinaron a ser el chófer de algunos oficiales, y allí también fumó y jugó a las cartas y contó chistes. Se había convertido él en la cafetera, que echaba humo y consuelo y ánimo.

Swans in the Mediterranean by Pedro Gutiérrez Ubero

I thought about my great-grandfather when I leaped into the water from the overhanging deck of the Costa Concordia. It was night, it was winter (the Cruise ship Costa Concordia ran around just off the island of Giglio at 21:42 on the 13th of January 2012) and my first thought was to find out if the water was too cold.

Cisnes en el Mediterráneo by Pedro Gutiérrez Ubero

Pensé en él -en mi bisabuelo- mientras tomaba impulso para saltar al agua desde la escorada cubierta del Costa Concordia. Era de noche, era invierno (el crucero Costa Concordia encalló frente a la isla de Giglio a las 21:42 horas del 13 enero de 2012) y mi primera impresión fue comprobar que el agua estaba demasiado fría…

EP. 33 | Yvonne battle-felton on atlantic city

My grandmother’s house in Atlantic City… this white and pink house a block away from the ocean… you just went in and it felt like home. Whenever I’m thinking about writing or where I feel both safe and comfortable enough to create and imagine anything that’s possible… I go back to that place, that house… When I think about my literary home is that house that’s no longer there.

EP. 32 | Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai on Facing Rejection When You Write about a Hard Topic

My novel was rejected by so many publishers because it deals with very horrible topics. It deals with death, with  rape, with war, with agent orange, with mass murder, executions… Of course there’s a sense of hope and lots of love, and family bonds… but people have to confront the horror of all the evil and horror to be able to find kindness and compassion. They have to go through a lot of darkness to see the light and they have to become vulnerable together with my characters. So this book is not a fun read, it’s a serious read. So I think a lot of editors thought they wouldn’t be able to sell it.