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M Sarki

Besides being a poet with four collections published, M Sarki is a painter, film maker, and photographer. He likes fine coffee and long walks. 

M Sarki has written, directed, and produced six short films titled Gnoman's Bois de Rose, Biscuits and Striola , The Tools of Migrant Hunters, My Father's Kitchen, GL, and Cropped Out 2010. More details to follow. Also the author of the feature film screenplay, Alphonso Bow.

Currently reading

L'Appart: The Delights and Disasters of Making My Paris Home
David Lebovitz
We Learn Nothing: Essays
Tim Kreider
Fiona Mozley
Limbo, and Other Places I Have Lived: Short Stories
Lily Tuck
The Double Life of Liliane
Lily Tuck
At Home with the Armadillo
Gary P. Nunn
American Witness: The Art and Life of Robert Frank
RJ Smith
Karl Ove Knausgård, Ingvild Burkey, Vanessa Baird
Inside Out: A Personal History of Pink Floyd (Reading Edition)
Nick Mason
American Witness: The Art and Life of Robert Frank
J.R. Smith

Swimming Home

Swimming Home - Deborah Levy https://msarki.tumblr.com/post/159260018863/swimming-home-by-deborah-levy

…She was not ready to go home and start imitating someone she used to be…

All these suspects on holiday together sharing a villa, a pool, and the rambling grounds of the estate surrounding them are not who they appear to be. The posing of every faker on the premises is not so much remarkable as it is expected. It is the way life goes. Rarely is there authentic intimacy in this type of gathering, but rather infidelities of the most obscene kind. Levy is adept at making it all seem and feel normal. And the threat and portent of doom hovers around the intimates similar to a dark and pregnant cloud.

The story progresses and this doom feels imminent. Trouble is coming for somebody and the victims perhaps will number more than a few. The cast of characters involve two vacationing couples, a daughter, caretaker, restauranteur, neighbor, and an adrift and traveling young girl who generally prefers her public nudity to convention. This somewhat likable woman named Kitty Finch is obviously unstable and provides the impetus for the impending disaster. The focus centers on the accomplished poet Joe, his historical infidelities, and the starving and disturbed young nudist invited to share a room in their villa. Nobody, including the reader, knows why Joe’s partner Isabel invited her to stay except for her facilitating another adultery she has become accustomed to enduring. Manipulation seems to be at the heart of every action. By book’e end I am no nearer a resolution to this seeming madness than when I was at the opening scene as passenger in a car bent on crashing. But end it does.

Secrets, yes. And teeming with them. For me, a rather hollow work devoid of feeling. And though my first foray into her writing, I expected more from Deborah Levy. Especially with all the hype announcing it.