Ever since I can remember I have enjoyed reading translated books. I loved these words that showed me life on foreign shores. They were like whispers from another world telling me to open my eyes wider and see the world. I cannot pinpoint when and how exactly I started reading these translations. Perhaps it was...

In the past week, I finished reading two books. Come to think of it, both books were about the struggle with being different, and both had children as the focus. But while I thoroughly enjoyed reading one, the other was marred by an overdose of quirkiness. Here are my reviews. Little Warrior (aka Don’t Tell...

I had never heard of Henning Mankell but I had heard, and even seen a couple of episodes, of Wallander. I couldn’t take the glacial pace, and the perpetually pissed looking Kenneth Brannagh after two or three episodes so I didn’t go further. But when I began reading “The Man from Beijing” I was immediately...