Wash The Bones, Bring The Body, Leave

We're All Entitled To Our Superstitions.

In My Earliest Memory, My Grandfather Is Bald As A Stone And He Takes Me To See The Tigers.

I Grew Up In Cyprus And Egypt, These Fantastic Places I Remember Fondly.

Kelly Link's Prose Is Conveyed In Details So Startling And Fine That You Work Up A Sweat Just Waiting For The Next Sentence To Land. This Is Why We Read, Crave, Need, Can't Live Without Short Stories.

Being Taken Seriously, For A Young Writer, Is A Wonderful Form Of Encouragement, But At The Same Time, I Don't Think One Should Ever Feel Like Attempting A Kind Of Artistic Endeavor Is Beyond Your Scope Just Because Of Age Or Inexperience.