You've seen the sights, now look at the pieces.
Where the maritime silk road ended, adventure begins...
A Swedish observer remarks on several thousand lifetimes in Bangladesh, a country literally and metaphorically "flooded by change"...
A correspondence with my younger self, two and a half years ago...what's happened since graduation?
This is Portugal's "One Hundred Years of Solitude" without the magical realism. This is a Forsyte Saga for the landless peasants. In a place where the landscape is the only constant, these people, like Saramago's own grandparents, were literally Raised from the Ground.
A world-renowned institution. A gallery of treasures. A place where history "lives"?
Part childhood memoir, part revolutionary narrative. A novel about death? Or the death of the Victorian novel?