We were beside ourselves. My head reeled, as if I’d had too much to drink. I took the novels out of the suitcase one by one, opened them, studied the portraits of the authors, and passed them on to Luo. Brushing them with the tips of my fingers made me feel as if my pale hands were in touch with human lives.
- an extract from "Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress" by Dai Sijie (China, born 1954)
Oh Hyun Woo, a political activist, has served nearly twenty years of a life sentence, but when the Korean government relaxes its stance on such dis...
Boys unfold loungers on the beach as Ma watches the annual parade of holidaymakers with a knowing eye: ‘Pussy and elephants. That's all t...
Zaki has returned home to Pakistan… His childhood friend and cousin Samar is getting married, and he's come to wish her happiness fo...
Nanase cannot remember when she first realized she could read people’s minds, but not once during her eighteen years has she ever thought tha...
Silver Hill Village, 2012. On the twentieth day of the seventh moon Kwok Yun is making her way across the rice fields on her Flying Pigeon bicycle....
Vicky Rai, the son of a high-profile Minister, has been shot dead by one of the guests at his own party. They are a glitzy bunch, but among them th...
