Whispers of Grief and Independence: Nahar Trina on Toni Morrison, Flash Fiction, and Rooted Displacement

This is a Part 2 of my interview with Nahar Trina. 

On Toni Morrison's Sula
EN: You translated Toni Morrison’s novel Sula into Bengali. What drew you to this particular book, and what challenges did you face in carrying Morrison’s rich, poetic language, cultural nuances, and emotional depth from English into Bengali? How did the process of translating her work influence your own writing, especially in terms of voice, rhythm, or exploring themes like friendship, grief, and Black womanhood? 

Nahar Trina: Before translating Toni Morrison’s Sula, I was a devoted reader of her work, and I still am. By the time I began translating Sula , I had already published four translated books. Among them were two collections of children's stories featuring tales from home and abroad, and a translation of a short story collection for adults comprising works by some of the most celebrated authors in world literature. Another significant project was translating ‘Death to Life, Bangladesh’, a book by Jim McKinley based on the 1971 Liberation War of my motherland. The modest confidence I gained from translating these diverse books largely gave me the audacity to take on this particular novel by Toni Morrison.

 

Truth be told, I encountered obstacles at almost every turn while translating Sula. It is a reality that proficiency in the English language alone does not guarantee a successful literary translation. This is because language is intrinsically bound to culture. While it might be possible to break down linguistic barriers, scaling cultural walls often proves to be far more daunting. Added to this was Morrison's highly distinctive and peculiar prose style.

 

In any translation, I generally strive to prioritize the contextual essence first and then focus on the literal words. I strictly adhered to this approach for this novel as well. To readers of world literature, Toni Morrison is a deeply revered figure. She possesses a narrative style entirely her own—one that is simultaneously intricate and mesmerizing. The more adept a translator is at dissecting the spellbinding nature of Morrison's language, the more lucid the core narrative becomes in translation. Personally, I believe attempting to translate her work is an act of sheer audacity, as her writing demands immense effort. When dealing with such challenging texts, a piece of advice from Gabriel García Márquez serves as a brilliant strategy: he noted that the easiest way to truly understand a foreign book is to translate it. My desire to comprehend Morrison's writing on a deeper level, combined with my growing fascination with her work, encouraged me to display this audacity. Furthermore, I felt that introducing the readers of my native language to the creation of such a rare and monumental literary figure would be immensely enriching. This thought also fueled my courage to translate Sula.

 

Moreover, as a translator, I felt that Sula had the power to create a profound impact on Bengali readers in various ways. Although published around 1973, its appeal remains  timeless —especially for women in a society like ours, where women are still compelled to live within patriarchal structures. Here, a woman's personal freedom is often subjected to ridicule, and speaking of sexual autonomy is considered almost sacrilegious. Among the four central women in Sula, except for Nel Wright, the other three were remarkably advanced in terms of personal independence—especially Sula herself. The way Sula voiced her longing to live as an independent entity in such a hostile, prejudice-ridden era decades ago makes her journey even more deserving of recognition today. Through Sula, perhaps the seeds can be sown for readers to aspire to—not lawlessness—but a truthful, independent existence. This vision heavily influenced my decision to translate the book.

 

Another compelling reason was the novel's depiction of good versus evil. The tension between these two elements revolves around the core narrative. Yet, there is no overt attempt to explicitly label what is good or what is bad. None of the major characters bother to justify their actions or engage in rigorous self-defense. Their lives simply unfold like flowing water or the passage of time. Morrison leaves the judgment of good and evil, sin and virtue, entirely to the readers. Furthermore, it is impossible not to fall in love with the profound friendship between two individuals evolving from girlhood to womanhood that lies at the very heart of the book. The temptation to share my own profound admiration for this work with Bengali-speaking readers played a definitive role in translating Sula. Ultimately, as to how much her work has influenced me as an author, I believe that is for my readers to judge.

 

Your English-Language Debut

EN: Your recent English-language debut, Fleeting Impressions, is a collection of flash fiction exploring grief, belonging, and the quiet power of language. What inspired you to move into flash fiction for this book, and how does it connect to or differ from the stories in your Bengali collections like Studio Apartment (which won the Ekushey Book Fair award)?

 

Nahar Trina: The biggest inspiration behind writing the flash fiction pieces in Fleeting Impressions was the desire to capture the profound depth hidden within transient, momentary emotions. In this genre, the unwritten rule of “show, don't tell” deeply attracts me. This form allows the narrative of an entire lifetime to be distilled into just a few lines. A fleeting image, a sudden silence, or an unfinished sentence—each becomes as powerful as a full-length story. Due to displacement and geographical relocation, the fragmentation that seeps into life, the sudden stirrings of memory, or the soft shadows of grief—these emotions often materialize more vividly through brief, sharp, and silent prose rather than lengthy descriptions. Flash fiction has taught me to harness the power of that silence. This minimalist form has instilled a sense of discipline in me; here, the weight of every single word and the quietness of every pause matters. It feels like a distillation of emotions through language.

 

There is both a bridge and a distinction between this work and my Bengali stories. The stories in ‘Studio Apartment’, which was selected as the best short story collection in the Pencil Publications Talent Hunt Competition at the Ekushey Book Fair in 2020, are comparatively longer, character-driven, and allowed me the time to carefully craft the atmosphere. (On a side note regarding my other works, the children's story collection ‘Vindeshi Goppo’ (2023) was published after winning an award in the Ekushey Book Fair manuscript competition, and my first prose book, ‘GoddoCollage’ (2026), was published after being selected in a manuscript competition organized by Kitab-e Publications of West Bengal, India). In my Bengali books, I could seamlessly utilize the intimacy and comfort that our mother tongue naturally provides.

 

On the other hand, since English is an acquired language for me—a process that is still very much ongoing—writing in it requires a high degree of conscious effort and caution, which is never the case with Bengali. Spontaneity possesses a unique strength of its own, which is quite evident in my Bengali stories, and I am consistently striving to bring that same fluidity into my English writing. I hope readers will notice that very effort to find a rhythm within the English language in Fleeting Impressions.

Yet, a deep thread connects both books—they both attempt to explore the quiet, internal landscapes of human beings. Grief, loneliness, the tug-of-war of memories, and the experience of changing homes—all of these themes return in both languages, albeit in different forms. Alongside presenting narratives in elaborate detail, flash fiction has taught me that not all stories need to be spoken aloud; many stories can be whispered. And sometimes, it is within those whispers that the truest emotions are captured.

 

On Legacy, Bridges, and the Future

EN: Looking at your journey—from editing Golpopath to publishing in both Bengal and international platforms—what do you hope your body of work contributes to Bengali literature and to the broader South Asian diasporic conversation? What are you working on or dreaming about next?

 

Nahar Trina: My journey from editing to my own creative writing—has been a continuous process of learning and exploration. My involvement in the Bengali literary world is not just as an author; for a long time, I served as both an editor and a writer for three literary webzines: Porua, Shishukagoj, and Golpopath, (though the publications for Porua and Shishukagoj have now ceased). This experience taught me that editing is not merely about selecting texts or proofreading spellings; it is about carefully nurturing a writer's voice, clarifying their vision, and building a bridge of dialogue with the reader.

 

Conversely, my role in the English medium is different—there, I am primarily an author. When writing in English, I find that the language provides a certain necessary distance, opening up opportunities for analysis, structure, and connection with a global audience. Furthermore, working in English allows me to regularly learn from international editors. They evaluate a piece of writing based strictly on its literary merit rather than personal acquaintance, which I find immensely inspiring. When an article or story requires edits prior to publication, the warmth, sincerity, and professionalism they display not only help me grow but also leave me deeply impressed. The experience in the Bengali literary circle is often quite different, where a writer’s familiarity or personal network sometimes takes precedence over the actual quality of the text. This occasionally confronts me with ethical questions as a writer. Nevertheless, both contrasting environments have taught me invaluable lessons and have positively shaped my literary journey.

 

Flag of Bangladesh

When it comes to the broader discourse of Bengali literature and the South Asian diaspora, there are countless talented Bengali writers making significant contributions. I do not know how far my own voice will resonate in that grand space. However, as an author, my only desire is that whatever I write should serve as a harmonious bridge between these two worlds. I want the memories, the soil, the complex relationships, and the lived experiences of Bangladesh to reach global readers; at the same time, I wish for the isolation, the wordlessness, and the identity crises of diasporic life to be translated back to Bengali-speaking audiences. For me, the dialogue between these two realities is paramount.

 

Currently, I am working on a few short stories, translations, and long-form essays where the boundaries of language, memory, and identity blur into one another. My dream is to create a body of work in both Bengali and English that offers readers not just a narrative, but an immersive experience—where roots and displacement, home and exile, memory and the present moment coexist. Additionally, one of my primary goals next is to translate my debut Bengali novel, which is set against a historical backdrop, into English. There are still so many stories waiting to be penned; writing is an endless, continuous journey. My only wish is to remain on this path as long as it brings me joy.

EN: May it ever be so. Thank you, Nahar, for sharing your story.

 

An Interview with Nahar Trina on Roots, Migration, and the Writer’s Soul--Part 1

You might say I "discovered" Nahar Trina quite by accident. One morning I received an email asking for permission to translate my Imaginary Interview with Leo Tolstory into Bengali, the language of Bangladesh. I said yes, of course. It's one more example of how interconnected the global community has become in this technological era of wonders. 

In her email signature she included three links, the first leading to books on Goodreads and the second to a Bengali collection of stories intriguingly titled Whispers of Fireflies. The third link carried me to Galpopath.com, the Bengali publication where my fictional Tolstoy interview now resides. 

Interested in learning more, I Googled and found her painfully beautiful story A Shoreless Abyss, which left me breathless.

Nahar Trina is a bilingual writer, literary translator, and book artist whose work bridges Bengali and English, memory and migration. Born in Bangladesh and now based in the U.S., she has authored seven books in Bengali and recently published her English-language debut, Fleeting Impressions, a flash fiction collection exploring grief, belonging, and the quiet power of language. Her work has appeared in both print and digital platforms, including international literary magazines.  

On Beginnings and Early Influences

EN: Born in Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, and starting your writing journey around 2008 through community blogs and forums, what initially drew you to writing? Were there particular books, writers, or life experiences in Bangladesh that shaped your voice early on?

 

Nahar Trina: The chapter of my writing that began on community blogs and forums actually traces its roots back to my childhood and school days. Along with writing for school wall magazines and annual periodicals, I regularly participated in yearly essay competitions. My initiation into the world of writing was fueled by the immense encouragement of my parents and my elder sister. My family always inspired us to pursue extracurricular activities alongside our school studies. Among my siblings, some excelled in dance, some in music, and others in recitation. While dance and music were not my cup of tea, I did a lot of poetry recitation during my school years, and I wasn't too bad at it. The rewards for these achievements came in the form of books. Moreover, as we excelled academically, a steady stream of books entered our house as prizes. My siblings and I received so many books that we had a dedicated bookshelf just for them.

 

My parents played a monumental role in fostering this love for reading. My father, in particular, had an extraordinary passion for books. He spent a significant amount of time in Europe for his teaching profession. When returning to Bangladesh, instead of bringing back materialistic luxuries, he would bring heaps of rare books. I share a very fond memory from my childhood: when my father returned home after completing his PhD, two trucks loaded with goods arrived in front of our house a few days later. Many curious neighbors gathered at our doorstep to see what my father had brought in such massive quantities. To their utter amazement, what unloaded from the trucks were mountains of books! And it wasn’t just literature on hydrology, the subject of his research; there were rare gems of world literature.

 

Our most valuable asset was a house filled with books. Thinking about the authors of those books filled me with a sense of profound wonder. It struck me how books could be infinitely more valuable than any luxury item, and I used to think that the people who wrote them must belong to some ethereal, mystical world. Perhaps it was the magnetic pull of that very world that eventually drew me into the realm of writing. Thus, it wasn’t a single event, a specific book, or a lone author that shaped me; rather, it was the entire familial environment, the abundance of books, and countless authors who subtly influenced me behind the scenes. And when it comes to my emergence as a writer and the publication of my books, the person whose encouragement has been the greatest is my brother, Dr. Moniruzzaman.

 

On Migration and Diasporic Experience

EN: You’ve lived between Bangladesh and the United States. What are the primary themes that run through your work? How has your own experience of moving to the U.S. and building a life in Illinois changed or deepened your writing?

 

Nahar Trina: The deeper a tree's roots penetrate the soil, the stronger its bond with the earth becomes. Human beings are much like trees; the land where one is born, and where childhood and adolescence unfold, establishes a profound connection with the soul. I moved to the United States in my youth, having already spent a significant portion of my formative years in Bangladesh. Had I come here as a young child, perhaps the homeland I left behind would not constantly envelop me the way it does now. In my thoughts, my birthplace naturally surfaces, with or without reason, and its imprint is inevitably left upon my writing. This is an invisible pull of a thread that seems to reside, more or less, within almost all diaspora writers. If I may be so bold—as they are revered literary figures, and mentioning them as an obscure, emerging writer might seem audacious—I would like to look at Kazuo Ishiguro, Salman Rushdie, or Jhumpa Lahiri. They are all diasporic writers, even though their specific experiences and positions differ. Yet, if you notice, their native lands frequently peek through their work. The execution may vary, but the signs of cultural duality are clear. No matter where we settle after moving away from our roots, that primal pull remains, whether loudly or in whispers. My own writing bears that distinct mark.

 

That being said, it is not as though living in the United States has left no impression on my work. It certainly has. If the absolute prerequisites for writing are freedom of expression and peace, the United States offers them to me in full measure. Here, I have the liberty to write candidly whatever I wish to write. In my homeland, that was often not possible. Especially with the kind of writing I do lately, various obstacles, ideological constraints, and taboos might have turned into barriers. Here, I can write without having to worry about those constraints, which creates a peaceful environment—and as everyone knows, 'peace' is a vital component for a writer. This flow of free speech and peace helps me immerse myself in my work. 

 

Back home, even when I could write something in my own way, the chances of seeing it published were often uncertain. Various ideological sensitivities and institutional hesitations sometimes made publication more difficult than writing itself. Here, in the United States, the freedom to write is accompanied by the freedom to publish—and that combination has had a profound impact on my creative life. 

 

At the same time, the experience of living in this country and interacting with the locals teaches me to focus deeply on the subtleties and psychological depth of my writing.

 

On Bilingual Writing and Translation

EN: As a bilingual writer who works in both Bengali and English, and as a literary translator (including your translation of Toni Morrison’s Sula), how do you navigate the two languages? Are there things you can express more easily in Bengali than in English, or vice versa, and what has translation taught you about your own creative process?

 

Nahar Trina: There are many bilingual writers in the world who are immensely successful. My journey as a bilingual writer, however, is relatively recent. Most of my previous writing in English was confined to the pages of my personal diaries. Personally, I like to think that if the Bengali language is my maternal home, English is like my in-laws' home. Both homes are dear to me, and both are essential. Therefore, my movement between Bengali and English is not a conscious effort to maintain a balance; rather, you could call it an attempt to capture the natural rhythm of my current life through my writing.

 

I think, feel, and write in both languages. It is as if the two languages open different doors within me. Bengali offers me the warmth of a mother’s womb, memories, and the raw scent of the soil and its people. On the other hand, English extends its hand as a bridge to close the gap of distance, providing analysis, structure, and sometimes, a necessary detachment. Which emotion flows more easily into which language depends entirely on the very nature of that feeling.

 

There are certain things that feel incomplete if not expressed in Bengali—such as the bond with one's mother and motherland, the village, childhood, deep wounds, and nostalgia. In these realms, Bengali feels much more tangible and visceral to me. Conversely, certain thoughts, especially abstract ideas, philosophical musings, or the subtle layers of complex emotions, sometimes attain a sharper clarity in English. Both languages grant me distinct depths, and I continue my pursuit of writing within these two dimensions.

 

More than anything, translation has taught me humility in my creative process. While translating a novel like Toni Morrison’s ‘Sula’, I realized that language is not merely a collection of words; it is history, the repository of a community's culture and lifestyle, their pain, their shadows, their silence, and occasionally, their resistance. Re-creating a sentence in another language makes you realize that to carry the original author's voice, you must step back and quiet your own voice as a translator. This experience helps me become more cautious, attentive, and restrained in my own original writing. 

Translation has shown me that every language possesses its own inherent ethics, and writing has taught me that standing between two languages means carrying the light of two different worlds simultaneously. Furthermore, when my original writing faces a creative drought, translation serves as a vital exit route, keeping my momentum alive. This is precisely why I rarely have to grapple with the dreaded ‘writer's block.’ 

TO BE CONTINUED

Getting Kicks on Route 66

Officially decommissioned in 1985. old Route 66 (the "Mother Road") is no longer a single, continuous highway. However, roughly 85% of its 2,448-mile original alignment—running from Chicago, Illinois, to Santa Monica, California—is still drivable today, preserved via state highways and local roads. The photos here are  courtesy of America's Photographer Gary Firstenberg, who is travelling the Mother Road as we celebrate America's 250th birthday. 

The first portion of this historic road was paved with cobblestones the day after the Colonies attained their independence in September 1783 with the signing of the Treaty of Paris. Once subservience to Britain was in the rearview mirror, their eyes turned West. 

OK, that last paragraph was fiction, but Route 66 is not. Here's proof.

One of America's great highways. 

Another is Highway 61, the Blues Highway.

Sometime soon we'll take a little trip down that one as well.

Thank you, Gary.

See more by Gary Firstenberg:

www.firstinphoto.smugmug.com

Want to Know Your Dad Better? Ask Him Questions.

Final resting place for my father's ashes.

A FATHER'S DAY REFLECTION
 
My father's passing 20 years ago is still very fresh in my mind. A Father's Day NYTimes article brought these memories to mind.

The call came at three in the morning. Calls at three a.m. are seldom packed with good news. My mom wanted each of us, the four sons, to know that dad was in the Bradenton Hospital and was dying. Miraculously, three of us arrived at the Tampa Airport within a half hour of one another, having flown in from three different airports.

As I remember it (memory is always subject to being a little unreliable) Dad's heart had gone into a-fib, quivering at 300 beats per minute. Though we'd been told he was unconscious, when we arrived, he was actually awake, though intubated and couldn't talk initially. 

Robert, my youngest brother, was there for the first few days but had to leave on Friday. On Saturday my brother Ron had a cold, and because Dad was vulnerable, Ron didn't come to the hospital that day. So it was Mom and I, taking turns being with Dad who at this point was quite exhausted. 

I'd bought a Mad magazine that morning, in part because of a very early connection with my father. Mapletown, a suburb of Cleveland, was having a sidewalk sale and we'd all gone together to see what bargans we could find. Dad bought me my first bike, for $20, and we also got a whole box of back issues of Mad magazines for a dollar. 

That Saturday in Bradenton Dad was weary, sometimes awake and sometimes sleeping, my mind grappling with things to say when he was half alert. At one point he initiated a conversation about the time he and Mom visited Susie and I in Mexico.

In the early summer of 1981 my parents visited us when we were working at an orphanage south of Monterrey. On one occasion the four of us took an afternoon to visit Horsetail Falls nearby. Dad and I went for a walk to explore a trail that ran along a creek below the falls. I was a little ahead him. I jumped off a wall of rocks down to the creek bed and continued along the path when I heard a loud thump and a groan. Where Dad jumped down, the path was slippery below. His feet slid forward out from under him and he slammed to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. As I leaned over him, he regained his breath and I helped him to his feet. He was in pain, rubbing his lower back, but no broken bones. He mentioned that a rock must have been sticking out of the ground which struck his lower back muscles, producing a deep muscle bruise.

25 years later, at the Bradenton Hospital, Dad said that the place where that rock bruised him still hurt.

I loved my dad, but in retrospect I wish I'd seen the following article from the New York Times before that day. There are a lot of questions I wish I'd asked. I'm sharing this with the hope that you'll take advantage of the opportunity to get to know your own dad better while you can. When he's on the "other side" it's too late. This goes for your mom, too. 

Want to Know Your Dad Better? Ask Him These 25 Questions.
This Father’s Day, open up a new channel of communication.

Follow this link and copy all the questions that may be useful for you:
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2026/06/18/well/family/fathers-day-questions.html?campaign_id=190&emc=edit_ufn_20260622&instance_id=177573&nl=from-the-times&regi_id=123953394&segment_id=221885&user_id=c5de7e4b28d36066d31878b87617b3c2

Burnout

This is something I wrote to someone who went through a very hard experience which, for lack of a better word, has been labelled burnout.

Sounds like you went through a major crash and burn. Glad you found your way through.

I think burnout can have a range of dynamics at play. My brother, who is a psychologist, would probably say that burnout occurs when we get our work/life balance out of balance.

I like Richard Nelson Bolles' Three Boxes of Life model. Many people separate school, work and play in this manner: They go to school/college first, then work hard so they can play when they retire. Bolles recommends an alternative. He says we learn for life, work for life and play for life simultaneously. 

I believe the Judeo/Christian concept of Sabbath is, among other things, specifically designed to keep us from getting burned out. Perhaps part of the problem for some could be their consumerism convictions. I need one more boat, one more ATV, one more car, a bigger house, which all creates extra stress when you have to moonlight to pay for it all.

In 1993 I worked full time, wrote a book and a Hollywood screenplay for a Disney producer. My wife wanted me to go house hunting with her and it literally made me suicidal for a weekend (Eastertime). I said my deadline for the book was August 1 and I would look then, but she could house hunt with a friend. I was aware of my limits. We signed paperwork for the house on Aug 7 and yes, moved before winter. I finished the screenplay in Oct but never repeated that year again. Just because we CAN accomplish more doesn't mean we SHOULD always push the speed limit. (I'm talking to my self here.)

Perhaps this is one reason God included the Fourth Commandment among the Ten. The Sabbath was not intended as a burden but as a gift. The God who made us knows our limits. He understands that machines can run continuously, but people cannot. Rest is not a sign of weakness. It is an acknowledgment that we are creatures, not the Creator. The Sabbath reminds us that life is sustained not merely by our labor, but by God's provision.

Burnout often comes from believing that everything depends on us. The Sabbath reminds us that it doesn't. For one day each week, we are invited to stop striving, stop producing, and remember that God is still God while we rest. The Fourth Commandment is not a restriction on our freedom. It is a protection against our tendency to drive ourselves into the ground.

Related Link

Richard Bolles' Three Boxes of Life

The Official 2022 Duluth Dylan Fest Trivia Contest: Let's Play 40 Questions

The Official 2022 Duluth Dylan Fest Trivia Contest  
For a number of years we included a trivia night as part of Duluth Dylan Fest. For those events we always created multiple choice tests so the general public would have at least a small chance of a getting batch of correct answers. Not so with this trivia contest. This a test for the diehards, and not an SAT. 

For the record, I stumbled across this in my Dylan folder and realize I'd never shared it. In retrospect, it could have been a lot harder. I'm sure many of you will find most of this pretty easy. Have fun traipsing down memory lane.

ROUND ONE

1. Who is the bass player who has become Bob Dylan's longest running sideman? [Bonus: What year did he begin playing on the Never Ending Tour?] 

2. What year did Robert Zimmerman graduate from Hibbing High School?

3. Who was the Duluth Disc Jockey that Bob Dylan mentions in his book Chronicles, Vol. 1?

4. Which Duluth hospital was Bob Dylan born in and on what date?

5.  Which Dylan album featured Scarlet Rivera with her sizzling violin work?

6. What Dylan album was released on 9/11, the day the Twin Towers fell?

7. When the album Tempest came out, many people thought it would be his last studio album because its title was the same as what?

8. During the pandemic, Dylan released a 17-minute song about the assassination of JFK. What was the title of that song?

9. What Hibbing sweetheart is most likely the one Bob refers to in his song "Girl from the North Country." 

10. Where did young Robert Zimmerman attend kindergarten?

ROUND TWO

11. According to a Fond-du-Luth security guard who used to play Monopoly with him at Louis Kemp's house, what was Bobby Zimmerman’s favorite Monopoly piece?

12. The line “But even the president of the United States sometimes must have to stand naked” is from what song?

13. Woody Guthrie was one of Bob Dylan’s early influences and a hero to him. What was the name of the Woodie Guthrie book Bob used to carry around with him when he first went to New York?
 

14.    Bob Dylan lived in Woodstock for a while. What was he doing while the Woodstock music festival was taking place in 1969?  [No, he was not watching the moon landing.]

15.   Dylan originally signed with Columbia Records and produced most of his studio albums with this label. Two of his albums in the mid-70's, however, were with another label. What was that label?  

16.  Who was the New York Times music critic credited with giving Bob Dylan his first major career boost?

 
17.  Which album was the first to have one of Dylan’s own paintings on the cover?

18. Mick Jagger once called this Dylan’s greatest song. The opening lines make reference to the lynchings that took place here in Duluth just over a century ago. Name the song.

19. The song "Only a Pawn in Their Game" is about the assassination of what civil rights leader in 1963?

20. In 2022 the BBC censored this great civil rights song because it has the N-word in it. What was the name of the song?

ROUND THREE

21. What childhood friend did Dylan ask to head up his unconventional 1970’s concert tour known as the Rolling Thunder Revue?

22. Dylan’s song "All Along the Watchtower" was made famous by Jimi Hendrix. What Dylan album did the song originally appear on?

23. For several years after his motorcycle accident in 1966, Dylan stopped touring or doing big concerts. In 1971, his friend George Harrison invited him to perform in a benefit concert for what country?

24. The Live Aid concert was one of the largest productions ever to use the influence of rock stars for fund raising purposes. The two guitarists who performed with Dylan were from what famous rock group?

25. In 1979 Bob Dylan announced that he had become a follower of Jesus. His first album as a Christian was titled what?

26. Dylan won an Oscar for this song. It was written for the movie Wonder Boys. What is the name of the song?

27. What year did Dylan win his Nobel Prize for literature?

28. Sometime Bob has been called a jokerman. The song "Jokerman" is the opening track on what 1980s album?

29. Half the tracks on this gold album were recorded in Minneapolis because Dylan didn’t like the results of some of the recordings in New York. What was the name of the album?

30. The Minnesota musicians were not credited on the album cover for their work on the record because the album sleeves had been printed already. It wasn’t till more than 40 years later they got recognized when the Bootleg outtakes of this album were released. What was the name of this Bootleg set?

ROUND FOUR

31. Who was the Grateful Dead songwriter whom Bob Dylan collaboratd with on Dylan’s 2009 album Together Through Life?

32. What is the name of the only Dylan song that begins with a V?

33. What song does the line, “I’m not the one you need” appear in?

34. This album is comprised of songs written and recorded during Dylan’s reclusive period in Woodstock. Members of The Band were invited there and over a period of time created/recorded seemingly countless songs, both whimsical and serious. What year was their double album The Basement Tapes officially released?

35. Levon Helm, drummer for The Band, wrote an autobiographical account of his life growing up and performing with the band. The title of his memoir was taken from the last track on disc 2 of the Basement Tapes. What was the name of that song and his book?

36. This album was Dylan’s first to hit #1 on the Billboard charts. What was the name of the album?

37. Bob Dylan is an artist and an author as well as singer/songwriter. What was the title of his first book?

38. What is the brand name for Bob Dylan’s whiskey company?

39. Bob Dylan’s uncles owned theaters in Hibbing. When he was growing up he enjoyed going to movies. What’s the name of the song that mentions Gregory Peck? The song appeared originally on Knocked Out Loaded and later appeared on his Greatest Hits, Volume 3. 

40. The Answer, my friend, is what?

ANSWERS AT THE BOTTOM AFTER THESE DYLAN PAINTINGS

"Don't Look Back" -- Limited edition giclee print. 

Blonde On Blonde (NFS)

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1. Tony Garnier, 1999.     2. 1959    3. Pat Cadigan    4. St. Mary’s – May 24, 1941    5. Desire    6. Love and Theft    7. Shakespeare’s last play    8. Murder Most Foul    9. Echo Helstrom    10. Nettleton School, Duluth    11. Scottish Terrier    12. It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)    13. Bound for Glory 14.   Packing his bags to perform at the Isle of Wight concert the following week.   15. Asylum Records   16.  Robert Shelton   17.  Self Portrait   18. Desolation Row  19. Medgar Evers   20. Hurricane.   21. Louis Kemp   22. John Wesley Harding.   23. Bangladesh    24. The Rolling Stones.  (Keith Richards, Ron Wood)    25. Slow Train Coming    26. Things Have Changed    27. 2016    28. Infidels   29. Blood on the Tracks   30. More Blood, More Tracks   31. Robert Hunter   32. Visions of Johanna  33. It Ain’t Me, Babe   34. 1975   35. This Wheel’s On Fire   36. Planet Waves. 37. Tarantula  38. Heaven’s Door  39. Brownsville Girl  40. Blowin’ in the Wind

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Illustrations by the author. 
Top of page: Famous mid-60s shot projected onto background of a 1970s illustrated ink on illustration board mandala by Ed Newman inspired by Mark Tobey. 

"Don't Look Back" painting, 36" x 24" acrylic and latex pigment on panel.

"Dylan II" by the author. One of my personal favorites.

"Blonde On Blonde", 12" x 24"