When they called me spoiled, they meant that I was a rotten fruit, left out to waste in the humidity, sullied by forces beyond their control.

The author of Ponti talks female ghouls, writing away from the male gaze, and inhabiting trauma through storytelling.

The world held us / In glass circles

‘These were / all the gold coins that he laid by in a life of poverty, / saved up in the vault of his mind’

We don’t know what we need because we don’t know who we are. We don’t know who we are because we don’t remember who we were.

A novelist recalls her childhood steeped in Chinese radio plays heard on the Singapore airwaves.

Singapore is known for order, safety, cleanliness. Singapore Noir, a new book edited by Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan, breaks us of that image. Join us for stories of geomancy, gambling, fisheries, and femmes fatales by Tan and contributors Damon Chua and Colin Goh. Moderated by Hirsh Sawhney (editor of Delhi Noir). Presented by the Asian American Writers’ Workshop, the Asian American […]

John Clang’s “Beijing New York” is a product of some good old-fashioned cut and paste.