A little over three months ago, I walked into my first creative writing workshop at Columbia University—bright-eyed, full of ideas, and just a tiny bit terrified. And now? Just like that, my first semester is done. Time really does fly when you’re juggling deadlines, readings, and life in New York City.
Thank you to everyone who came to my reading last night (and for joining me here now, too). I couldn’t have asked for a better audience! This was not only my first translation reading but also my first reading in New York, and sharing the first chapter of the novel I’m currently translating, It Is Only Us (German: Es sind nur wir) by Austrian author Martin Peichl, was an absolute joy.
Last night, I went to an event that only New York could make feel like a casual Tuesday night—Margaret Atwood and Min Jin Lee discussing the power of storytelling. Yes, that Margaret Atwood and that Min Jin Lee, just having a conversation at the Peter Jay Sharp Theatre, as if it was no big deal. They were joined by New York Times journalist Veronica Chambers, and on the eve of a critical election, the topic couldn’t have been more timely.
People always look at me like I’m crazy when I say I love running. “Why would you do that to yourself?” they ask. And honestly, feeling the pain I feel right now, I get the confusion. At the same time, running is so much fun. Yes, it was hard—26.2 miles is never easy—but there’s something special about it. The energy of the crowd, the excitement of seeing the city from a different perspective, and that feeling of pushing your body and mind to places you didn’t think they could go.
When I first set up this blog, I was determined to report on every reading, writer panel, or literary event I attended. Well, that idea lasted all of one week. After three readings in the past seven days, I’ve come to a simple conclusion: that is definitely not going to happen.
Despite what the photo might suggest, today’s post is not about a church service, but about the Brooklyn Book Festival. Despite the relentless rain drenching the streets, the event buzzed with excitement, offering a feast for any literary enthusiast. I went to a panel inside the beautiful St. Ann & the Holy Trinity Church titled “A Search for Belonging,” featuring the writers Lorrie Moore and Kelly Link, and moderated by the insightful Brandon Taylor.
The single most important class I’m taking as part of my MFA program at Columbia University is Workshop. It’s a space for growth and feedback, where writers get to share their work and refine their craft. Recently, I’ve been thinking about how our group’s diversity—especially with a few international students—opens up exciting opportunities for learning from each other’s literary traditions.
Last night, I got to see Anaïs Mitchell’s Hadestown on Broadway. I knew the soundtrack before, but seeing the musical performed live brought the story to life in new ways. It was emotional, haunting, and full of moments that left me thinking long after the final note. So I thought I’d share some of my impressions with you.
Let’s start today’s post with a bit of a paradox: One of the most beautiful things about stories is their ability to make us cry. Sounds strange, right? But I think it’s what I’ve always loved about storytelling: it creates this intense empathy that makes you feel so deeply for others, even if they’re fictional. Stories don’t just entertain; they reach into the core of who you are and tug at emotions you didn’t even know you had.
Translation is a subtle art, and this week I’ve come to realize just how much every decision impacts the final text.
I’m currently taking a class in literary translation with Susan Bernofsky, a leading translator of modernist and contemporary German-language literature into English.