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During the winter, I like watching anything undulating in motion with the ocean. That might be seals or surfers. That might be mermaids or drift logs. That might be skinny-dippers or coils of kelp. My favorite day to watch is Sunday. Call it going to church. My favorite place to observe the winter undulations is [...]

Question: What's the most memorably creative use of kelp you've ever witnessed on tan Oregon beach? My candidates: Jump rope Photographic subject for greeting cards Harness for a driftwood sled pulled by huskies Rotunda fort Telescope Whip for practice S&M Teenage fashion statement Dog toy Trampoline Riding crop Percussion instrument Coiled decoration on a pagan [...]

It had rained nearly four inches in 24 hours as Christmas approached. Portland weathermen had gone deep into their online thesauruses for novel and moronic adjectives (e.g., "wicked") to anthropomorphize a routine coastal storm. Wind had whipped through the neighborhood, toppling trees and lawn gnomes. Everything was puddled and reflecting. Reflections generated from rain are [...]

I stood in a downpour on my deck and looked across the street. The sun was throwing a narrow spotlight on my neighbor's dry roof. This meant it was raining like the Battle of Stalingrad: moving block by block, house to house. Normally, I would venture to my local beach near Newport and watch the [...]

I've had three Deep Throats in my Oregon literary career. Each put me on to something incredible that enriched my recounting of modern Oregon history. For the uninitiated, Deep Throat was the code name of the legendarily secret source who helped Woodward and Bernstein unravel Watergate and overthrow a paranoid criminal in the White House, [...]

To lay hands on the Rock is to feel inspired and imbued: inspired to believe that a politician with vision can enhance the lives of all his constituents, and imbued to never give up fighting for the great birthright and soul of Oregon — our publicly owned beaches — which undergo constant siege by the [...]

"There is nothing in machinery, there is nothing in embankments and railways and iron bridges and engineering devices to oblige them to be ugly. Ugliness is the measure of imperfection," wrote H.G. Wells. One gets the feeling that Oregon master bridge builder Conde McCullough read Wells and took his exhortation to heart, because Conde didn't [...]

When we were growing up, my brother and I devoured all kinds of science fiction. One moment we were waiting at the comic book store for the new pulp installment of the "slow glass" series; the next we spent trying to break down the radioactive process behind a B movie that allowed giant ants to [...]

I write about coffee. This is a relatively strange niche, but it's one I love. Unfortunately I and the approximately two other people in the world who do what I do have a problem: we have no good way of talking about coffee. I mean that literally. We don't have the words for it. We [...]

I go to church three times a year now. The church is First United Methodist in Southwest Portland. The only part of it I've ever seen is more or less a basement, a big empty room with a tile floor, folding chairs, and room to plug in a percolator. I go to hear people read [...]

I'd like to announce the winner of the fourth annual Powell's On Oregon blog "Book of the Year" [see last year's winner]. I'm the sole judge, I live in Oregon, and the book I pick has to be about Oregon in some way, either as a topic or through the setting. It could be a [...]

Here at Powells.com, in addition to exclusive interviews, original essays, and Q&As, we feature a wide selection of guest blogs from noteworthy authors. Each week, a new author contributes to our blog for five days straight, revealing everything from their thoughts on the writing process to details about their favorite neighborhood cat. We're constantly amazed [...]

This books jumps off the cliff with the first chapter but never quite crashes at the bottom. The crazy ride stayed with me weeks after reading it, and I still occasionally ask myself what the hell just happened! The author calls it a farce; it's that and a lot more. Thank you, Lidia Yuknavitch, for [...]

What a powerful collection of short stories! Alexie really stretches his wings and explores fascinating new territories, while at the same time revamping his old works by placing them in new contexts. I was completely blown away by Mr. Alexie, as usual. Books mentioned in this post $27.00 New Hardcover add to wish list Blasphemy: New [...]

Not long ago, I had the unpleasant experience of observing students study — if study is the word — for their U.S. history finalsNot long ago, I had the unpleasant experience of observing students study — if study is the word — for their U.S. history finals at Newport High School, where I teach English, [...]

Alexis Smith's diminutive novella lies somewhere between poetry and prose. So lyrical and so delicate, Glaciers slowly unspools as we follow Isabel on a routine day. Her inner life is rich and minutely detailed, and even though she is alone, her world seems full and ripe. On this day she reflects on her childhood in [...]

Joaquin Miller was a contemporary of Mark Twain, an early pioneer of Oregon, and lauded as "The Poet of the Sierra." Yet, he's largely forgotten today. In this prose collection he covers Oregon, Idaho, and California. As an example, in "Idahho" (his spelling) he quotes a prospector at Lewiston, "...it oughter be gold-bearin' country, 'cause [...]

If a tree falls in an Oregon clearcut, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If an Oregonian strips naked and dives into the ocean, and no one is around to see, is it a crime? Not too long ago, Sonny the husky, a friend, and I cruised south [...]

What is the official color of the Pacific Northwest Coast? Let a poet define it: [I]t happens when I begin my little ritual of naming the colors. That's grey, I say. That is not grey, I say. But more than grey, a white grey, green grey, blue grey, rose grey — my little ritual — [...]

My great political and literary mentor died on July 31. His name was Gore Vidal, and I read all but one of his 30-something books. I own 18. I remember exactly when I discovered him: it was 1988 and I inhabited a spacious two-bedroom Portland apartment on SE Belmont.I remember exactly when I discovered him: [...]

In recent weeks I've started a new habit of going to the beach with Sonny the husky and a spiral notebook. I'll find a comfortable drift log, dune, or slice of riprap, sit down on the sand, stare at the ocean, perhaps snap a photograph with my film fish-eye camera, peruse my notes, and write [...]

"Contemporary Western culture makes the peace of solitude difficult to attain. The telephone is an ever-present threat to privacy...and the invention of the car telephone has ensured that drivers who install it are never out of touch with those who want to talk to them." So wrote Anthony Storr in his book Solitude: A Return [...]

I eagerly await the hard rains of winter on the Oregon coast. Life always becomes leaner and my writing begins to move in mysterious, fluid directions. I feel a new book coming on. But, for now, fall lingers, pumpkins ripen, high school football teams clash spiritedly in the night, and I habitually visit my beach [...]

Some 50 miles southeast of Portland lies the highest peak in the state of Oregon: Mount Hood, a 700,000-year-old stratovolcano. The fourth tallest in the Cascade range (around 11,240 feet high), Mount Hood is currently rated fourth by the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) in terms of "size and potential damage of an eruption." There is, [...]

To begin our day, Sonny the husky and I hit the beach at dawn. We like to honor a sacred passage written by Evelyn Waugh: "In all the diurnal revolution these first fresh hours alone are untainted by man." Completely true. Nothing provides me greater joy than rambling the beach with my old dog in [...]