The guilty pleasures of domesticity

  Since I have a nine-month-old baby, and since my husband has nine aunts and two uncles, people are still coming over to “meet the baby.”  Every time people come over, I can’t help but feel like a younger Mrs. Dalloway, from Virginia Woolf’s novel by the same name. There are indeed things that just require […]

The Thing with Warhol & Watts

Sometimes I feel the Universe picks my reading lists for me. Like when I read Mrs. Dalloway after Ulysses, not knowing the first was inspired by the second.  Or when I got The God of Small Things at an airport on my way to, of all places, Kerala.  And so it is that I read The Philosophy […]