LOST PLACES: AN INTERVIEW WITH SARAH PINSKER BY CHARLIE HOPE-D’ANIERI
I don’t know what my dog is smelling when we go on a walk, but it’s clearly not the same thing I’m smelling—and I can’t imagine what color looks like to a mantis shrimp.
I don’t know what my dog is smelling when we go on a walk, but it’s clearly not the same thing I’m smelling—and I can’t imagine what color looks like to a mantis shrimp.
So much of this first novel felt like fighting my way through an unmapped jungle with a butter knife.
love is still something that can find its way to you, even in this bent world.
We have a certain kind of empowerment that our parents didn’t as they didn’t speak the language or understand the culture.
There’s not a lot of places where we just get to be who we are.
responsibility can be a restraint that gives shape to your art, but it also can be a release, enlarging perception, illuminating what had been unseen.
I think we can borrow a lot from the semiotics and nuances of film. The tension created by the act of interpretation is a cinematic exercise.
As I was writing, I just kept thinking that we need to break and remake the whole way all this stuff works.
As I was writing, I just kept thinking that we need to break and remake the whole way all this stuff works.
I also have learned a great deal from other writers, whether from reading their work or receiving (generous) feedback.