![]() ![]() ![]() And many writers and activists over the decades have wondered if it is even right to. Just like Plath’s last seconds in her kitchen, Woolf’s final embrace of the river, even that final sentence that seals Seymour Glass’s fate in the world of his bananafish-it is hard to ignore the end of this story. ” The paragraph goes on, one recommendation amid ten other year-end selections by writers, and ends with a sentence that, if you didn’t know-or even if you did-might have the feel of a gunshot to any psyche: “Theresa Cha was murdered in New York City in 1982 at the age of 31.” Because it is ephemeral, fragile, fierce, indelible. Because it is forming as we watch, listen, read. In the January 1996 issue of SPIN magazine, the experimental writer Carole Maso selected the 1995 reissue of Theresa Hak Kyung Cha’s masterpiece Dictee as her favorite book of the past year because it “enlarges the notion of what a book is. ![]()
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