Speaker 1: Hey there, it's Ruby Jones. All week we're sharing our
Speaker 1: favorite episodes from our sister podcast, Read This. It's the
Speaker 1: show where editor of the Monthly and book lover Michael
Speaker 1: Williams talks to some of the best and most respected
Speaker 1: writers from Australia and beyond. Today we're hearing his conversation
Speaker 1: with the award winning British Turkish novelist elf Chavak. But
Speaker 1: first his host, Michael Williams. Hi, Michael, Hi Ruby. So Michael,
Speaker 1: this is not the first time that you've spoken to
Speaker 1: Elif Schavakh, is it.
Speaker 2: No. I got to chat to her a few years
Speaker 2: ago as part of Adelaide Writer's Week. She didn't appear
Speaker 2: in person, that was down via zoom, but she was
Speaker 2: so charismatic and carried the kind of love and attention
Speaker 2: of the audience that it was like she was there.
Speaker 2: And part of that is she's written more than twenty
Speaker 2: books at this point and people really adore her combination
Speaker 2: of folklore and realism deeply kind of romantic hard, as
Speaker 2: well as a passion for questions of human rights. You know,
Speaker 2: she is a campaigner on that front, and she just
Speaker 2: tells these amazing stories about kind of human beings who
Speaker 2: are destroyed by the system or lost in the world.
Speaker 2: I think my favorite of hers is her twenty nineteen
Speaker 2: novel Ten Minutes thirty eight Seconds In This Strange World.
Speaker 2: It's set, as that title would suggest, the final minutes
Speaker 2: of the life of a woman who's dying. And it's
Speaker 2: pretty haunting stuff. A shortlisted for the book when it
Speaker 2: came out, and it's fantastic.
Speaker 1: And as you say, she's not just a writer, she's
Speaker 1: also a campaigner, human rights advocate. Can you tell me
Speaker 1: a bit more about what she does in that space.
Speaker 3: Yeah.
Speaker 2: As you'll hear in the interview, Ellaf is more or
Speaker 2: less exiled from her home of Turkey because she's an
Speaker 2: outspoken public intellectual. You know, she talks about human rights,
Speaker 2: she talks about women's rights, in particular, freedom of speech,
Speaker 2: a whole lot of things that made her very unpopular
Speaker 2: in her home country. She spoke particularly powerfully back when
Speaker 2: some and Rushti was attacked in New York a couple
Speaker 2: of years ago. And one of the quotes from her
Speaker 2: that I love is the literary imagination is one of
Speaker 2: our last remaining democratic spaces. Her new novel is using
Speaker 2: that kind of idea using that democratic space and bringing
Speaker 2: ideas of water, ideas of the ways in which there's
Speaker 2: interconnectedness across history, across the years. And it's heard her
Speaker 2: very best.
Speaker 1: I'm looking forward to hearing more coming up in just
Speaker 1: a moment. The multiple belongings of Ilifshavak.
Speaker 2: Elif Shaffak's latest novel, There Are Rivers in the Sky,
Speaker 2: stretches across millennia following a single drop of water. Much
Speaker 2: as she did with the connective tissue of trees in
Speaker 2: her last novel, Elif explores the long memory of the
Speaker 2: natural world alongside the relentless figure of civilizations. Her drop
Speaker 2: of water is present at the building of a great library,
Speaker 2: witnessing the saving of the Epic of Gilgamesh from destruction
Speaker 2: for blasphemy. Much later, in nineteenth century Constantinople, it lands
Speaker 2: on Arthur, who's just arrived on an official mission to
Speaker 2: find a missing section of the epic that depicts a
Speaker 2: pre biblical flood, and in its third and final incarnation,
Speaker 2: the drop of water is the last in a bottle
Speaker 2: carried by twenty first century Yazidis who are fleeing from
Speaker 2: violent persecution into the mountains of Iraq. As with so
Speaker 2: much of Ellif's fiction, there are these multiple narratives converging
Speaker 2: to tell this larger story about connection and about climate.
Speaker 2: As she explained when we sat down for our conversation, it.
Speaker 3: Is a story of three characters who seem to be
Speaker 3: completely different. That first glance and two rivers, the River
Speaker 3: Thames and the River Tigris in the Middle East, and
Speaker 3: then one ancient poem, which is the epic of Gilgamesh
Speaker 3: three two one. But everything in this seemingly complex structure
Speaker 3: is actually based on a single small drop of water.
Speaker 3: It is water that connects everything, and I think the
Speaker 3: moment we forget how connected we are, we only need
Speaker 3: to look at the journey of water, because it's the
Speaker 3: ultimate immigrants in a way, and it connects us and
Speaker 3: the water that flows in the river Thamps and the
Speaker 3: River Tigris, or the water in our glass, the water
Speaker 3: inside us, the tears that we shed, They're all the
Speaker 3: same water circulating. So it is a book that attempts
Speaker 3: to connect seemingly different pieces and destinies, But I genuinely
Speaker 3: believe as human beings, we are all deeply interconnected.
Speaker 2: A Kepe. Part of that interconnection in this book centers
Speaker 2: around a text, the Epic of Gilgamesh, and I wanted
Speaker 2: to ask whether you remember when you first came across that.
Speaker 3: I do roughly remember because I was in Turkey. I
Speaker 3: was a student in Turkey. But to be honest, that
Speaker 3: introduction was incredibly limited. All you know is just as
Speaker 3: it was an ancient poem and there was a hero
Speaker 3: in it, and that hero had some adventures and journeys.
Speaker 3: That's about it. Really. It took me years and years
Speaker 3: to dive deep. And then many years later I revisited
Speaker 3: the epic, but this time with a completely different eyes.
Speaker 3: And then the third reading, which was the real reading,
Speaker 3: that one really really changed me because what I found
Speaker 3: in the epic was a story that is quite relevant
Speaker 3: to our times, that is universally important. It is almost timeless.
Speaker 3: It's a story that does not have a hero in
Speaker 3: a traditional sense. If anything, it has an anti hero
Speaker 3: because Gilgemush is a terrible person at the beginning of
Speaker 3: the story, you cannot like him. But through losses, journeys, friendship,
Speaker 3: but also failure, by the time he comes back, he
Speaker 3: has not achieved anything. He has failed in everything. Through
Speaker 3: all of that, he changes and he becomes a wiser person.
Speaker 3: But also it's a story about climate crisis, about the
Speaker 3: search for youth immortality, you know, how do we deal
Speaker 3: with aging process? And I think it's a story about power,
Speaker 3: how power corrupts. So in so many ways, I find
Speaker 3: it a very very important and almost urgent and universal story.
Speaker 2: It does seem to me that as your work has
Speaker 2: developed from book to book, your love for your fascination
Speaker 2: with the natural world is something that has become increasingly
Speaker 2: to the fore that it's there even in your earliest works,
Speaker 2: But it seems to me, particularly in the last two
Speaker 2: or three, the ways in which we might better understand
Speaker 2: our human relationships if we were more open to understanding
Speaker 2: the relationship between elements of the natural world is a
Speaker 2: kind of recurring theme for you, and I'd love you
Speaker 2: to share with us how that passion, how that kind
Speaker 2: of focus came about for you.
Speaker 3: That is so correct. I think I'm also very interested
Speaker 3: in eco feminism, the kind of feminism that connects the dots.
Speaker 3: There are several threads that come together when we talk
Speaker 3: about nature and literature. And you're right, my interest in
Speaker 3: nature is increasing as I get older, and also older
Speaker 3: as a writer as well. But I think Basically, what
Speaker 3: I would like to remind myself and everyone is that
Speaker 3: we tend to think we are above nature, that we
Speaker 3: are superior to everything else, because we think we're very
Speaker 3: clever as human beings, and we have turned ourselves into
Speaker 3: consumers of nature. That is our basic relationship with the
Speaker 3: things around us, and that is a completely long and
Speaker 3: destructive relationship. We're destroying an entire ecosystem, and as we
Speaker 3: do this, we're destroying ourselves. So a different way of
Speaker 3: thinking which is actually not new but quite ancient, and
Speaker 3: many indigenous tribes, many ancient spiritual systems knew this. They
Speaker 3: were telling us that we are not above nature, but
Speaker 3: just a small part of a very delicate ecosystem. And
Speaker 3: you need to respect the trees, you need to respect
Speaker 3: the earth, you need to respect water. So we need
Speaker 3: to rewire our brains and rewire our relationship with nature.
Speaker 3: And I believe that is an important part of my work.
Speaker 2: What do you say is the relationship between that work
Speaker 2: and that subject, that area, and the business of literature itself,
Speaker 2: Because it seems to me there's something very fraud about
Speaker 2: applying words to natural phenomenon, to natural ideas, to ancient
Speaker 2: concepts where they run the risk of feeling inadequate or
Speaker 2: incapable of capturing the kind of richness of the natural world.
Speaker 2: And I know in your career there was a point
Speaker 2: at which you made the shift from writing your books
Speaker 2: in Turkish first to writing them in English first. And
Speaker 2: I've heard you talk about the way in which you
Speaker 2: can dream in multiple languages. But do you commune with
Speaker 2: nature in the same way in English and in Turkish?
Speaker 2: Does one language find the rhythms more readily?
Speaker 3: For you? That is such a brilliant question. And you
Speaker 3: made me think more deep there. Thank you. I think
Speaker 3: I need to go back to my childhood. I was
Speaker 3: raised by a grandmother in Turkey who was it was
Speaker 3: very spiritual, you know, in her own way. She was
Speaker 3: not religious, but she was spiritual. And in her own world,
Speaker 3: my grandmother was an oral storyteller. In her world, the
Speaker 3: mountains would speak, the trees would whisper, you know, water
Speaker 3: would say things, and that was that was not madness.
Speaker 3: There are these kinds of stories in Anatolia, in the Balkans,
Speaker 3: in the Middle East. I have never forgotten that. And
Speaker 3: it paints me that oral culture in general is looked
Speaker 3: down upon it because it's regarded as not intellectual enough,
Speaker 3: and sometimes I've heard people say things like, oh, it's
Speaker 3: just you know, tales by ignorant housewives. I've heard these things.
Speaker 3: So there's a part of me that wants to also
Speaker 3: take the wisdom because there are so many pockets of
Speaker 3: wisdom within oral culture that we need to tap into.
Speaker 3: So I want to bring those pockets of wisdom and
Speaker 3: connect them with written culture, or in other words, I
Speaker 3: would love my writing, to the best of my ability,
Speaker 3: bridge oral culture and written culture, because even when we
Speaker 3: talk about seemingly irrational things such as superstitions, there's a
Speaker 3: reason why those superstitions are there. You know. They reflect
Speaker 3: our most basic fears as human beings. There's something existential there.
Speaker 3: So I do pay attention to different ways of storytelling,
Speaker 3: not only to the European canon of the novel, as
Speaker 3: much as I love it, I am also connected to
Speaker 3: different types of storytelling, much more cyclical, much more oral storytelling.
Speaker 3: You know. With regards to language, it's a big, big
Speaker 3: question for me because language is a huge passion. I
Speaker 3: do not see it as an instrument that I use
Speaker 3: and then put aside. I think languages shape us. We
Speaker 3: breathe them, and you know, we dream in them. But
Speaker 3: at the same time, as you can hear in my accent,
Speaker 3: in my mispronunciation, I am not a native speaker in English.
Speaker 3: This is an acquired language for me. I'm an immigrant
Speaker 3: not only in England, in the UK, but also inside
Speaker 3: English language, and as a result of which I will
Speaker 3: always experience this immigrant anxiety. There's a gap between the
Speaker 3: mind and the tongue. The mind always runs faster, so
Speaker 3: you're as immiicantc You're always aware of the things that
Speaker 3: you're not able to say instead of the things that
Speaker 3: you are able to say. But I love it. I
Speaker 3: love writing in English. It gave me an existential freedom,
Speaker 3: perhaps an additional sense of freedom. Being a Turkish writer
Speaker 3: is sometimes very heavy, and being a Turkish novelist, female novelist,
Speaker 3: can be heavier. So when I write in English, I
Speaker 3: find another cognitive distance, and that distance helps me to
Speaker 3: feel lighter, and with that lightness I can maybe delve
Speaker 3: into more difficult subjects with a little bit more hutzpah,
Speaker 3: you know. So that's my relationship. Of course, my relationship
Speaker 3: with Turkish is more emotional, with English more intellectual, but
Speaker 3: in a natural all I can tell is still to
Speaker 3: this day, if my writing has melancholy, sorrow, longing, sadness.
Speaker 3: I find these things much easier to express in Turkish.
Speaker 3: But when it comes to humor, which I love, irony
Speaker 3: and satire are much easier in English.
Speaker 2: I just want to pick up on making the point
Speaker 2: about recognizing the oral traditions beyond just that kind of
Speaker 2: European traditions of literature. And it seems to me that
Speaker 2: perhaps a writer of Turkish heritage is singularly well placed
Speaker 2: for that multiplicity of influence. But of course modern Turkey
Speaker 2: is very uneasy with that duality. Does that represent a
Speaker 2: kind of additional thing to navigate?
Speaker 3: That is so true? I mean, Turkey in so many
Speaker 3: ways is a place of in between them. It's a
Speaker 3: very liquid city. It's constantly becoming shifting. It hasn't settled yet,
Speaker 3: even though it's a very very old city. And that
Speaker 3: liquid world is something that always makes me think more
Speaker 3: carefully about memory, identity, heritage, ancestors, What does it mean
Speaker 3: to be from the East or from the West. I
Speaker 3: think for a long time with good intentions, no doubt,
Speaker 3: but many people in media and academia adopted a very
Speaker 3: dualistic approach. They thought that some countries were quite solid
Speaker 3: and safe and steady, and that was the Western world.
Speaker 3: And they also thought that in those solid countries, democracy
Speaker 3: had been achieved, women's rights had been achieved, LGBTQ rights
Speaker 3: had been already achieved, so you didn't have to worry
Speaker 3: at all about the future of democracy. But it was
Speaker 3: the liquid countries over there outside the Western world that
Speaker 3: had to worry about such things. Now fast forwards, in
Speaker 3: the year twenty twenty four, we do know that there's
Speaker 3: no such thing as solid countries versus liquid countries, and
Speaker 3: we're all living in liquid times. And even in those
Speaker 3: countries that seem so solid, actually things can go backwards,
Speaker 3: and it can happen very fast, so we all need
Speaker 3: to worry about the future of our democracies.
Speaker 2: After the break, Elif reveals the Virginia Wolf novel, which
Speaker 2: she returns to again and again. We'll be right back.
Speaker 2: The Financial Times called the Elif Shafak one of Turkey's
Speaker 2: most important writers, but back in two thousand and six,
Speaker 2: her book The Bastard of Istanbul saw Eliff prosecuted for
Speaker 2: the crime of insulting Turkishness, though she has later acquitted
Speaker 2: and has received a lot of support from Turkish readers.
Speaker 2: Elif and her family were forced into voluntary exile in
Speaker 2: twenty thirteen. They're now based in London. This sense of
Speaker 2: displacement runs through all of her work, and it's especially
Speaker 2: present in There Are Rivers in the Sky. How do
Speaker 2: you manage to scaffold the extent to which grief and
Speaker 2: anger at the nature of loss and exile they inform
Speaker 2: your work, but they don't overwhelm your work. And I'm
Speaker 2: interested in whether that's a discipline you have to apply,
Speaker 2: whether you have to say, I see that's there, and
Speaker 2: I'm going to leave that at the door, or I'm
Speaker 2: going to make that the focus here because it's in
Speaker 2: everything you write, but it's handled with such grace.
Speaker 3: That's an amazing question. I'm no stranger to anger, depression, anxiety.
Speaker 3: I think we need to talk about these things also
Speaker 3: mental health. How do we struggle with difficult emotions? Exile,
Speaker 3: not being able to go back it makes it harder.
Speaker 3: At the same time, I have found a home in
Speaker 3: the UK, in the English language as well, And at
Speaker 3: the same time I see myself as a citizen of humanity,
Speaker 3: as a citizen of the world. So I'm someone who
Speaker 3: very much believes in multiple belongings. That said, like everyone
Speaker 3: I believe who cares about what's happening in the world.
Speaker 3: There are days when I feel so sad. There are
Speaker 3: days I feel an almost existential fatigue. All of that
Speaker 3: is human, and I think we should not be ashamed
Speaker 3: of our emotions or feelings. Feelings are not a sign
Speaker 3: of weakness, just the opposite. They are a source of energy.
Speaker 3: The question is not whether we feel angry or not.
Speaker 3: The question is what do we do with our anger?
Speaker 3: Can you turn it into something much more positive? The
Speaker 3: only thing that worries me, There's only one emotion that
Speaker 3: really really troubles me, and that is the lack of
Speaker 3: all emotions, which is numbless. The moment we become numb,
Speaker 3: you know, if I stop caring about your story, if
Speaker 3: you stop caring about my story, or about what's happening
Speaker 3: elsewhere in Afghanistan, in Gaza, in Sudan, in Ukraine and
Speaker 3: everywhere around the world, I think that is a very
Speaker 3: dangerous world. You know.
Speaker 2: I like that you were talking before about liquid and
Speaker 2: solid countries, and I think, coming back to the role
Speaker 2: that water plays in this book, and that idea about fluidity.
Speaker 2: I know a book that is incredibly important to you
Speaker 2: as a reader and that you return to throughout your
Speaker 2: life is Virginia Wolfs Orlando. And I know that that's
Speaker 2: a book that you think of as a liquid book.
Speaker 3: That is so true because because it is, it's a
Speaker 3: water like book, and it's constantly evolving, shifting until reading Orlando,
Speaker 3: and I've read it multiple times throughout my life, but
Speaker 3: the first time I read it really struck me. Until then,
Speaker 3: I did not know you could write a novel without
Speaker 3: any constraints, you could fly that high so bravely, with
Speaker 3: such such a sense of freedom. And I think it's
Speaker 3: it's a book that I associate with a sense of freedom.
Speaker 3: Can you travel through time? Can a character live more
Speaker 3: than just a mortal life? Can a story go beyond
Speaker 3: boundaries of geography, time, gender, culture? She dared to do
Speaker 3: all of that and more so. It is an important
Speaker 3: book for me. But in general, I think novels have
Speaker 3: shown me so much. I love the broad canvas of
Speaker 3: a novel and the way it connects the seemingly small
Speaker 3: with the seemingly big, the way it connects us versus
Speaker 3: them to such a to such an extent that we
Speaker 3: realize there is no such a thing, there's no such
Speaker 3: thing as the other. So it does dismantle dualities, and
Speaker 3: especially in these times when everything is to a dualistic
Speaker 3: we need to go back to.
Speaker 2: Fiction with the book quite there are rivers in the sky,
Speaker 2: which is so kind of rich and layered and texted.
Speaker 2: How do you get the relationship right between if I
Speaker 2: can use your metaphor the solid and the liquid, the
Speaker 2: solidity of research and your sense of responsibility to real stories,
Speaker 2: real historical moments, real bits of knowledge that you want
Speaker 2: to impart on the one hand, and on the other hand,
Speaker 2: that sense that Virginia Wolf sense of possibility, of openness,
Speaker 2: of things moving fluidly from one state to another. How
Speaker 2: do you get that tension right.
Speaker 3: It's a massive challenge, especially as you go back in
Speaker 3: time and you tap into the forgotten stories and the
Speaker 3: silent stories of minorities such as the Yazidi minority in
Speaker 3: the Middle East. This is one of the most vulnerable
Speaker 3: and persecuted minorities across the world. Of course, in twenty fourteen,
Speaker 3: the entire world or the zd genocide in the hands
Speaker 3: of ISIS extremists but we should also know that it
Speaker 3: wasn't the first time that the Azids had been persecuted.
Speaker 3: The AzID lore talks about seventy two massacres at least,
Speaker 3: So how do you approach such a beautiful culture but
Speaker 3: also with respect, with dignity, but without forgetting that you're
Speaker 3: a novelist and you need to fly and you need
Speaker 3: to let your imagination free. I'm always aware of those
Speaker 3: of those challenges. The second challenge, especially in this case,
Speaker 3: was that the Azidi culture is mostly transferred from generation
Speaker 3: to generation, not through written culture, but through oral storytelling,
Speaker 3: so songs, ballads, folk tales. This is very important, a
Speaker 3: very important part. So I had to do a lot
Speaker 3: of listening, lots of interviews, especially with the Yzd elders.
Speaker 3: At the same time, there's a story of water in
Speaker 3: my book, so there's a scientific research. It was insane,
Speaker 3: to be honest, amount of books that I had to
Speaker 3: read and the range of books that I had to
Speaker 3: read for this novel, which also includes of course a
Speaker 3: very deep research about the epic of Gilgamesh, the ancient
Speaker 3: Akkadian rights and rituals. But I love learning. I've stayed
Speaker 3: in academia for a long time, and from political science
Speaker 3: to cultural history, but also to cookbooks. I love reading
Speaker 3: across the board, but there comes a moment when I
Speaker 3: know I have to let my intuition guide me.
Speaker 2: Are you someone who goes back to books, stories and
Speaker 2: rediscovers them as you yourself have grown, as you yourself
Speaker 2: have changed as a reader?
Speaker 3: I come from a country that has a very very
Speaker 3: rich history and a very complex history, but that does
Speaker 3: not necessarily translate into a strong memory. I think, in
Speaker 3: so many ways we are My motherland is a society
Speaker 3: of collective amnesia. So when we talk about the past,
Speaker 3: there are lots of silences and gaps, and I think
Speaker 3: literature is drawn to those silences. Personally, as a writer,
Speaker 3: I don't see myself only as a storyteller, but maybe
Speaker 3: as a silence teller as well. You know, I'm drawn
Speaker 3: to those silences. So the meaning of the past changes
Speaker 3: depending on who is telling the story and who is
Speaker 3: not allowed to tell the story. The moment you start
Speaker 3: asking questions about where were the women, Where were the minorities,
Speaker 3: or men who are not in positions of power, men
Speaker 3: from maybe poorer backgrounds, more disadvantage backgrounds, Suddenly there's a
Speaker 3: huge silence in history books, so I think literature can
Speaker 3: take a closer look at those silences.
Speaker 2: As a parent with your kids, how do you decide
Speaker 2: what stories to share with them and when? At what
Speaker 2: point the stories that matter to you get threaded into
Speaker 2: their lives and their understanding of the world.
Speaker 3: I've always been interested in how, especially in immigrant families
Speaker 3: or any family that has experienced some kind of displacement
Speaker 3: complex history, there are generational differences. Now I'm not talking
Speaker 3: about my family in this instant, but I'm thinking about
Speaker 3: many immigrant families that have experienced some kind of trauma
Speaker 3: on for instance, either side of the Atlantic. What stayed
Speaker 3: with me is when you talk to the elderly, the
Speaker 3: people have experienced the biggest challenges. They don't talk about
Speaker 3: the past much, which doesn't mean they have forgotten the past,
Speaker 3: of course they haven't, but they don't know how to
Speaker 3: talk about these things, so it stays in their chest
Speaker 3: and they don't know how to express those emotions. The
Speaker 3: second generation immigrants, they're usually not interested in that in
Speaker 3: the past as much, understandably because they have to be
Speaker 3: forward looking, future oriented. It's almost like tabolerasa. You need
Speaker 3: to build a new life, which leaves the youngest in
Speaker 3: these families. The third or fourth generations today are the
Speaker 3: ones who are asking the biggest, sharpest, deepest questions about
Speaker 3: their ancestors, stories, and heritage, and they want to know
Speaker 3: the family silences, not only the family stories. I've always
Speaker 3: been interested in that as a novelist. Now come to
Speaker 3: my experience personally, I try to talk more. I'm aware
Speaker 3: that family silences can shape people. But at the same time,
Speaker 3: I cannot claim that I'm doing such a great job,
Speaker 3: because it's one thing to talk about these issues intellectually.
Speaker 3: It's another thing to apply it in your life. But
Speaker 3: I think always communication is a better way, even when
Speaker 3: you talk about difficult subjects such as exile, you know,
Speaker 3: not being able to go back and so on. And
Speaker 3: many young people are actually more welcoming of the idea
Speaker 3: of having multiple belongings if we just let them be.
Speaker 3: But because of politics, because of the world we're living in,
Speaker 3: because we're constantly pushing them into boxes of us versus them,
Speaker 3: we're not allowing them to celebrate their own multiplicity. You know,
Speaker 3: we have to always remember what Walt Whitman so beautifully said,
Speaker 3: We do contain multitudes as human beings. So, whether it's
Speaker 3: the immigrant experience or any other experience, we all have
Speaker 3: actually multiplicity inside.
Speaker 2: Absolutely, Elif, thank you so much for joining us today.
Speaker 3: Thank you so much. This was such a joy. It's
Speaker 3: such a pleasure.
Speaker 2: Elif Shaffac's latest novel, There Are Rivers in the Sky,
Speaker 2: is available at all good bookstores now.
Speaker 1: Thank you so much for listening to this episode of
Speaker 1: Free This. We'll be back tomorrow with another episode, and
Speaker 1: you can hear all of read this by searching for
Speaker 1: it wherever you listen to podcasts.