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Literary Bites in Bits: A Short Story List by paulo da costa
Each book in this selection is sliced in bite-sized portions, yet none miss any of the essential vitamins and minerals, delivering satisfying nourishment despite their small portions. Think of them as power-bars. These six books share in common a succinct, power-charged delivery of texts in condensed servings that leave me purring and yummying with delight. For those readers, like me, who appreciate snacking, these works exemplify the type of book I carry around in my shoulder bag, to sneak, peek and bite into, while waiting in lines, while moving along the day-to-day river of busyness. (…) Complete feature here
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Mass Storytelling
– paulo da costa Sunday morning in my neighbourhood. Cars pull into parking lots and doors slam shut. This domino of bangs echoes a timeless, proverbial Big Bang of life-changing events. The amiable people exchange smiles and jovial greetings as they stroll with purpose to their varied gatherings of devotion. In high-ceilinged buildings they will soon congregate and listen to stories of creation, parables of morality, illustrations on righteous conduct. They will sing hymns of worship and pray recurrent supplications for health, wealth and peace. On the radio, after having rescued the greedy, bankrupt bankers and the automobile barons, another politician extols the value of the goods economy…
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The Green and Purple Skin of the World
Dear B, Quinta da Garrida, courtyard three weeks The morning yawns and sighs in the lungs of the birds. I begin the day on the front steps, in my bathrobe, blowing soap bubbles. The birds’ harmonies melt the thin veil of frost covering the ground to reveal the green. You phoned last night to say you won’t be at Pearson airport to meet me. You’ll be in Victoria visiting your aunt. In this corner of Europe the sun shines through a winter blue. Oranges on the trees glow and kiwis shrivel on vines. All this fruit doesn’t tempt me to stay. Since my last visit my father has relocated…
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La Piel Verde y Púrpura del Mundo
paulo da costa traducción de Mirta Rosenberg Monte das Lameiras, patio, tres semanas Querida mía: La mañana bosteza y suspira a través de los pulmones de los pájaros. Las armonías funden el delgado velo de escarcha que cubre el suelo. Empiezo el día en la escalera del frente, en bata, soplando burbujas de jabón. Anoche llamaste por teléfono. No estarás en el aeropuerto de Pearson para recibirme sino en Victoria, visitando a tu tía. En este rincón de Europa el sol brilla a través del azul invernal. Las naranjas fulgen en los árboles y los kiwis se redondean en los sarmientos. Toda esta fruta no basta para tentarme a…
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A Verde e Púrpura Pele do Mundo (conto)
Cara A, Monte das Lameiras, pátio três semanas A manhã desperta e suspira nos pulmões dos pássaros. Inauguro o dia nos degraus da entrada, roupão de banho vestido e a fazer bolas de sabão. A música dos pássaros começa a derreter o ténue véu de geada que encobre o chão. Ligaste-me a noite passada para dizer que não me irias esperar ao aeroporto Pearson. Vais estar em Victoria a visitar a tua tia. Neste canto da Europa o sol brilha por entre o azul de Inverno. Brilham as laranjas nas árvores e os kivis enrugam-se nas ramadas. Toda esta fruta não me seduz a ficar. O melro foi…
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My Real Mother Would Never
From “My Real Mother Would Never” (The Green and Purple Skin of the World) by paulo da costa: I didn’t plan on running away. It happened. You stare at me from down the street, and when we cross paths, you turn and shake your head as I walk along, stuffed rabbit under my arm, rainbow-coloured sling bag bulging with my comfort blanket and my Anne of Green Gables book collection biting my shoulder. If you stop and talk to me I’ll tell you, “My real mother would never do such a thing.” I’m dead sure my mother isn’t my real mother. I’ve got eyes. I mean, look at us. I…
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Story in Nashwaak Review
The Nashwaak Review (Vol. 28-29) from St. Thomas University in New Brunswick published in their latest issue the short-story: The Weight of Memory. TABLE OF CONTENTS Fiction Common Signs of Spring Andrea Schwenke Wyile The Auction Ann Lohner Lila Barbara Biles Shades of Grey Catherine Brunet Dolly Jonathan Greenbaum Visa Edward Gauvin The Tin Container Jeffrey Griffiths Dancing At the White Rose Ballroom Leanne Lieberman We All Considered This Sean Johnston August 5th Marnie Lamb Métisse Pascal Millet Bullfight Roger Moore Mary Had A Lamb P. J. Worrell The Weight of Memory paulo da costa Cardboard Genome Greg Shupak What We Know About Our Neighbors Tom Wayman Culture Shocks…
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New Story in Rampike
Rampike, the University of Windsor’s Literary Magazine, has just published in their latest issue (Vol 22/ N.1) one of my new works of fiction. Vol. 22/No. 1 (Re-recorded Histories): Carol Stetser, Phil Hall, Diane Schoemperlen, Collete Broeders & Samantha Therrien, Niels Hav, Alison Dilworth, Stephen Bett, Faruk Ulay, Brenda F. Pelkey, Norman Lock, Vittori Baroni, Christopher Prendergast & Joseph Hubbard, Hélène Samson & Guy Sioui-Durand & Norman Cornett & Edward Sheriff Curtis, Holly Anderson, Paulo da Costa, M.A.C. Farrant, Joanna Katchutas & Christina Spina, Kye Kocher, Brian Aldiss & Misha Nogha & Richard Truhlar, Orchid Tierney, Gerry Smith, Beatriz Hausner, Robert Dawson, Len Gasparini, Vicky Reuter, Nicole Markoti? & Meredith…
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As Asas da História
Oliveiras e sobreiros polvilharão a paisagem abrasadora. Não refrescaremos esta descrição com o vento. Pelo contrário, avivaremos o ardor do sol, tingindo a paisagem de carmesim, enrubescendo a linha do horizonte como o das férias sulistas. A forragem, atrofiada, descansará tranquila, enquanto nós instigaremos um corvo a crocitar e a estilhaçar o silêncio. Colocaremos três pastorinhos deitados à sombra de uma azinheira, chamar-lhes-emos Lúcia, Jacinta e Francisco. Para obedecer a expectativas bucólicas, assim como de coerência literária, iremos rodeá-los com um rebanho de ovelhas. As ovelhas são secundárias à história mas talvez se convertam num mote de menor repetição simbólica. Desejamos subtileza de caracterização. Descrevê-los-emos em pobreza, compar-tilhando azeitonas…
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O Papa – conto de David Albahari
O PAPA David Albahari Quando o Mendoza se benze perante as câmaras de televisão, à saída do relvado, o Papa, empolgado, endireita-se na poltrona. Olha ao seu redor, mas os cardeais dormem serenamente nos seus confortáveis cadeirões. O Mendoza desaparece do ecrã. Nesse instante, o Papa sente de novo o peso da solidão. Entretanto o jogo continua, e ele sucumbe às paixões irracionais do futebol. … O Papa gosta de conversar com os soldados. Eles contam-lhe histórias de lugares distantes que nunca visitou. Muito gostaria de ser soldado – pensa o Papa, detendo-se em frente das tropas em parada. Os soldados chegaram de longe. Estão sujos, empastados com…
