Laos


The Coroner's Lunch (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #1)
Lost in Yaba: Down and Out in Laos
Thirty-Three Teeth (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #2)
How to Pronounce Knife: Stories
Disco for the Departed (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #3)
Curse of the Pogo Stick (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #5)
Anarchy and Old Dogs (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #4)
Run Me to Earth
The Latehomecomer: A Hmong Family Memoir
The Merry Misogynist (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #6)
Love Songs from a Shallow Grave (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #7)
Mother's Beloved: Stories from Laos
Slash and Burn (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #8)
The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down: A Hmong Child, Her American Doctors, and the Collision of Two Cultures
The Woman Who Wouldn't Die (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #9)
The Ghost Bride by Yangsze ChooThe Years of Rice and Salt by Kim Stanley RobinsonNeuromancer by William GibsonAcross the Nightingale Floor by Lian HearnBridge of Birds by Barry Hughart
SF & F Atlas - Asia
118 books — 22 voters

The Boy and the Dog by Seishū HaseInuYasha Ani-Manga, Vol. 1 by Rumiko TakahashiBronze Dog by Jian LiThe Strange Tale of Doctor Dog by Norman Hinsdale PitmanDugga by Rajiv Eipe
Dogs in Asian Fiction
23 books — 3 voters
Death on the Nile by Agatha ChristieMurder in Mesopotamia by Agatha ChristieThe No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall SmithAppointment with Death by Agatha ChristieCrocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters
Death in a Warm Climate
323 books — 107 voters

C'est un retour sans joie. Le monde que nous avons laissé derrière nous n'existe plus. L'Indochine française s'est effacée. Le Royaume du Laos a basculé. Une république communiste s'est emparée des terres et des esprits. Nous avons rompu avec ce système-là. Notre pays imaginaire te hante, je le sais. Par mon ignorance, je suis préservée de son emprise. Moi, je n'ai que des hypothèses. Mes fictions claudicantes sont bien inoffensives. Elles ne génèrent aucun regret, aucun sentiment coupable. C'es ...more
Loo Hui Phang, L'Imprudence

A si predstavljaš? sem v prvi zarji še ves zjagan razpredal Romani. Steklenica viskija za pol dolarja in zjutraj nič ne boli glava! Pol dolarja in vsaj za dolar sem ga spil ... Nekje sredi poti proti jugu pa sem planil čez njo, avtobusno okno se je odprlo le zgrda in komajda sem zvozil, da nisem bruhal po ubožici, vsej nedolžni in zgarani od polnočnih reportaž. Plačal sem vse za nazaj in čez mejo prilezel kot stara kuzla z ohceti; še dobro, da so me tako zdelenaga sploh spustili v nov državo...
Zvone Šeruga

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