John krich biography
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- John Krich is a novelist, travel writer, columnist, critic, feature writer and journalist.
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John Krich is a novelist, travel writer, columnist, critic, feature writer and journalist. His first novel, about the private life of Fidel Castro, shared the prestigious PEN/Hemingway Award and his groundbreaking anti-travelogue, renown for its sub-title Around the World In A Bad Mood, helped spark a boom in American travel literature. He has contributed to numerous major U.S. publications and was the main food columnist for the Asian Wall Street Journal.
John Krich was born in Manhattan, the only son of poet/sexologist Aron Krich and socially-committed theatre scholar Toby Cole. He fleetingly attended the Fieldston School, Reed College and N.Y.U. Film School before joining a radical San Francisco Bay Area commune and completing a gargantuan novel, Big Mac: A Book Disguised As a Sandwich, at nineteen. Honing his craft with three more unpublished works in the Kerouachian tradition, he was finally published in the fine print Italian edition Chicago Is, and then Bump City, a tribute to the denizens of his adopted hometown of Oakland, California.
Beginning
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John Krich was raised in New York City, lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for 30 years before 20 years in Asia, some working as a feature writer and food columnist for the Asian Wall Street Journal. He now calls Lisbon, Portugal his home in expat exile. His books include Bump City: Winners and Losers in Oakland, A Totally Free Man: The Unauthorized Autobiography of Fidel Castro, novel One Big Bed, anti-travelogues Around the World in a Bad Mood: Music in Every Room, El Beisbol,Won Ton Lust, and Why is This Country Dancing? His travel writing has also featured in Conde Nast Traveler, Vogue, European Travel and Life, The New York Times, and The San Francisco Chronicle, as well as Travelers’ Tales anthologies. Among current completed works still seeking publication are: Lost: The Guidebook, a saga of Thai divorce hell told in the form of a Bangkok Baedeker; Donna Quixote, a novel about the last days of his Communist Mom; memoirs of 20 years of trying to love China; and a collection of interviews with famed chefs trying “to save the world.”
How did yo I despise guest books. You know, those large bound volumes, sometimes flowery, often unlined and large as artists’ sketchbooks, where travelers are invited to leave their salient remarks and summations of stays in hotels, b and b’s, or vacation rentals. Recently, my wife, daughter and I rented a charming one room cottage – appropriately, if not very romantically, dubbed the “Casa do Tanque – set amidst a glowing field of purple and yellow wildflowers down a peaceful ravine near mangrove fields along the lovely rolling topography of Portugal’s Alentejo coast. In three days there, we all got properly relaxed, doing as little as possible except hunt for various strange bugs and butterflies (in my eight-year-old’s case), read in hammocks, go for short hikes, have picnics, outdoor showers and barbeques each night. The only interruptions to mar this ordinary bliss occurred when we actually tried to do something. When back roads befuddled my GPS, and Portugal’s infamous scanty signage did its usual number, an expected twenty-minute drive to long empty Atlantic beach
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