I think that I've never read a novel by a Tibetan writer that roars like of Tsering Yangzom Lama's We Measure the Earth with Our Bodies. As my reading of Marcel Proust's beyond one million worded novel or series of the sort, namely in search of time lost and regained--really something worth-reading, if you care about the working of our emotions, especially jealousy in the name of love--having recently been completed, I find her wordings really traceable and simple and sharp, so sharp and precise as of her having labored for it over a decade or more. Oh, can there be such a Tibetan woman, young and mystic, with such an extraordinary talent (not the shallow ones of any related with internet hype of now)? She has mesmerized me even much more than Yan Martel's Life of Pi, for, as you can say, I am a Tibetan. 'Oracle', 'medium', such beautiful words, and I want to add 'telepathy'. And it counts, if we can prove so, with such nuances of our identity.
