writing portfolio

Parenthood changes you. Numerous friends offered me this sentiment after my wife and I announced her pregnancy last year. They mentioned the obvious changes like the family budget, sleep routines, and travel flexibility. But the one that seemed odd to me at the time was the emotional impact of art.

No child should have to dodge bullets, survive an attempted kidnapping, or question whether she’ll ever see her father again all before the age of eight, but that’s exactly what happens to Chula, the main character of Ingrid Rojas Contreras’s debut novel, Fruit of the Drunken Tree. Set in Bogotá, Colombia during the early ‘90s, the story navigates the violent reign of Pablo Escobar and its effects on two young women.

I interviewed professor Leland Ryken about his new poetry collection, The Soul in Paraphrase.

When one imagines West Texas, celebrated poets rarely come to mind. Yet that’s exactly what the region has produced in Christian Wiman, an artist described by Marilynne Robinson as writing with a “purifying urgency that is rare in this world.”

Set in Maoist China in the 1950s, Bury What We Cannot Take charts the course of the Ong family and their attempts to survive the political oppression of the time. The drama of the story ignites early when twelve-year-old Ah Liam happens upon his grandmother moments after she smashes a picture of Chairman Mao in their bourgeoise home.

I interviewed author Kirstin Chen about her latest book, Bury What We Cannot Take.

A few years back author Zadie Smith likened the contemporary model of reading to that of a person watching a film. We expect a full course of entertainment in return for passive engagement, at best. This poses a striking contrast with the classical model, which Smith compared to an amateur musician who utilizes his or her skills to perform a piece composed by someone with superior skill.

In Homer’s Odyssey, Circe makes a brief appearance in Book X. She’s a nymph and the sole inhabitant of the island Aeaea, where Odysseus and his crew arrive in search of reprieve following their bloody encounter with the Laestrygonians. Malicious and manipulative, she invites his scouting crew into her wooded villa for dinner only to magically transform them into pigs.

A lot has happened in the 14 years since Pixar first introduced us to The Incredibles. We’ve witnessed the rise of Facebook, the launch of the iPhone, the birth of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and two separate transitions of power in the White House. At a little less than two hours, Brad Bird’s Incredibles 2 feels like it’s been storing up 14 years of things to say.

Women fill the pages of the Bible. Some of them enter the narrative as mothers and wives, others as refugees, judges, and queens. Yet one burden many of them share is our interpretive tendency to blame them for sexual offense no matter how honorable their example.

Homer’s epic poem, The Iliad, begins with a simple imperative—“sing.” Written in the ninth century BC, his poetic songs aimed to honor the memory of soldiers strewn upon the battlefields of Troy as their souls hurried along to Hades. And the world has been singing them ever since. Homer’s words unearthed the dead, enabling their melodic tombstones to travel around the world. With Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward accomplishes something similar for black southerners and their legacy in the South.

Nearly halfway through Annihilation, the film flashes back to a scene where the main character, Lena (Natalie Portman), sits beside her husband, Kane (Oscar Isaac), reading a copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Published in 2010, the book tells the true story of a poor black tobacco farmer who suffered from and ultimately succumbed to cervical cancer in 1951.

Fredrik Backman burst onto the scene in 2014 with his widely adored novel, A Man Called Ove. Since then, he has established himself as a craftsman of endearing characters, ranging from Elsa to Britt-Marie and “Noah Noah.” Yet, Beartown marks a shift in his approach, one anchored less in exploring the intricacies of a single character as those of a community.

We live in a fast-paced world that constantly demands our attention. The regular barrage of headlines makes it hard to remember last week’s breaking news, let alone the memories of a lifetime. In a world that moves so quickly, remembrance is often a liability, especially when our memories hurt. But that’s where Pixar’s newest release, Coco, offers a refreshing critique. It’s a film that reminds us of our need to remember, even the painful parts we’d prefer to forget.

By the end of August 2016, America had seen two consecutive summers of police shootings pasted in the headlines. Names like Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Alton Sterling, and Philando Castile became commonplace as both opinions and hashtags erupted across social media. Colin Kaepernick would add his name to the list for an entirely different reason.

I interviewed author Mike Cosper about his latest book, Recapturing the Wonder.

Despite the fact that most Americans own multiple copies of the Bible, biblical illiteracy is on the rise. People fail to see the Bible’s relevance, they don’t take time to read it, and when they do, they struggle with the unfamiliar language. Many recognize the theoretical importance of Scripture but lack the confidence to engage it in a meaningful way. With his latest book, What Is the Bible?: How an Ancient Library of Poems, Letters, and Stories Can Transform the Way You Think and Feel About Everything, author and speaker Rob Bell attempts to provide relief for those confused by Scripture.

During our six years of marriage, my wife and I have lived in four separate homes and two different cities. We have packed and unpacked countless boxes such that if I never again have to smell the mingling scents of dust, cardboard, and sweat I will die a happy man.

One of my great regrets in life is having not discovered Neil Gaiman sooner. I was first introduced to his writing two years ago when I picked up a copy of American Gods at a local bookstore. Soon after, I began swooping up editions of his Sandman series, scaling London’s mystical underworld in Neverwhere, and fighting dark spirits with his magical tale The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Today, I am hopelessly compelled to read everything he writes—an obligation for which I have no complaints.

Few names have survived the test of time like John Calvin. During the Protestant Reformation, he was one of the most prolific writers and teachers producing numerous volumes of commentaries as well as his magnum opus: the Institutes of the Christian Religion. To this day, his legacy echoes in the footsteps of parishioners gathering in Reformed sanctuaries around the world, in the development of Protestant theology and in the city of Geneva where he devoted the majority of his life to teaching and preaching the Word of God.