A friend loaned me her copy of Jennifer Brice’s memoir Unlearning to Fly, published in 2007 by the University of Nebraska Press. My friend couldn’t get past the Preface, for reasons I’ll explain. I pushed on through, and I’m glad I did. There’s no shortage of Alaskan memoirs. It’s hard to find an Alaskan who […]

My friend just got a Kindle. Like lots of people, she had to wait. The electronic reader from Amazon sold out in 5 1/2 hours. Some caveats: I’m not a techie. I love my independent bookstore. I love my library. I’m not one to chase after the latest gadgets. I’m not an industry analyst. I

Like most everyone in Alaska this time of year, I’m thinking of spring. The other seasons saddle on in as a matter of course. Not spring. No matter where you live, it’s much anticipated and prone to disappoint. Last week we were sure it had arrived in Southcentral Alaska. On Friday we got 20 inches

I’m assisting with an anthology slated to come out later this year, a collection of narratives by some of the world’s best mystery writers who, thanks to the astounding efforts of Alaska Sisters in Crime, visited some of the farthest-flung corners of Alaska, places that many of us will never be privileged to see. More

What makes an Alaskan? Author and professor Steve Haycox addressed the perennial question in last Friday’s Anchorage Daily News. Alaska is more place than state, making for a more interesting discussion than one might asking “what is an Illini” or “what is a Minnesotan?” Haycox cites the research of UAF professor and author Judith Kleinfeld,

Seasons shift with subtle changes, especially in the Far North. Crocus and daffodils will never grace the tundra, where spring faces brown from sun glaring off the snow. Across Alaska, snow reshapes into icy granules. River ice cracks and tumbles off to sea. Fresh snow glistening with meltwater clings to the mountains. Snow shakes off

“Alaska changed my life.” It would be tough to find an Alaskan author who doesn’t share this sentiment with writer Kim Heacox. In his musings on restlessness, Heacox reflects on what happened when the small community of Gustavus became a second-class city. Governing yourselves, the community reasoned, was part of growing up. The paradox, as

Alaskan author Kim Heacox spoke last night in the season’s final “Wildlife Wednesday,” a multi-agency lecture series sponsored in part by Conoco Phillips. Hailing from Gustavus, population 440 or so, Heacox is one of Alaska’s most notable nature writer/photographers. His books include The Only Kayak and In Denali. Personable and sincere, Heacox read, with commentary,

It’s not a book, but it might as well be. The authors are many. Mushers racing to Nome are known to the world. But there were also indigenous people. Explorers. Prospectors. Railroad workers. Telegraph linemen. Last night I attended a kick-off function for the four-year celebration of the 100th anniversary of the Iditarod Trail. One

This quote, ostensibly spoken by the character playing Harper Lee in the film “Infamous,” made the rounds on a few writer listservs last week, generating a bit of discussion: “America is not a country where the small gesture goes noticed. We’re not a country like France where charm, something light or effervescent can survive. We