“. . . home is where our stories are, and that’s not just a question of ethnicity or even country . . .” —Joy Kogawa, Itsuka Alberto Fujimori caught the world’s attention in 1990 by becoming the first person of Japanese descent elected to lead Peru—or any nation outside of Japan. His extravagant campaign and…
Translated from the Korean by Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton 1 An ordinary-looking man was not what I expected. He was of average height, at five feet six inches, and had a compact build. His body was marked with scars and blemishes but bore no tattoos. I detected none of the anxiety and fretfulness that convicts…
They met on the night train to Budapest and seemed drawn to each other by the fascination with how different they were—her from Brussels, a place he’d only seen on the map, and him from Draper, Utah, a place she’d clearly never imagined was on any map. That’s why I wanted to get away from…
Gabrielle said I was always pining over a white girl, which wasn’t true, except for that night, when I was in fact pining over a white girl named James. Though none of us were girls anymore. Gabrielle and I were twenty-nine. That’s what I hated about being close to someone who had known me since…
1 So this your real, ehm, body? The real you? No silicone for Ms. Velvet Lace? I say it’s really me, of course. I say it pleasant as can be, like I’m still working the register at Key Food, even though these men don’t look like nobody I know or want to know. It’s two…
Hannah didn’t realize her father was a person who needed to be married, like a philopatric sea animal, until after the divorce. “He’s a nurse shark,” her mother explained. “No matter what, they always go back to the Dry Tortugas.” Hannah didn’t know what her mother meant, but she suspected her father now preferred his…
Ema used to say our village sat on a “butte” of possibility—on hilly land, though not an isolated hill, swollen with water and limestone. He was our self-appointed geography expert. At least he was effusive about things—such as our distance from the Atlantic Ocean, how our rubber trees and mahogany were disappearing—until his father’s death….
Every winter, Mrs. Botho Kennekae’s husband took time off from his driving job in the city and spent three weeks at the cattlepost, where he did whatever men did there—presumably offer the softness they withheld from everyone to their cattle, for the cattle were the great loves of their lives: so beloved the men called…
I wriggle my tights up my legs, feel them squeeze at my thighs and bite at my waist. They’re a size too small but my sole pair without a run. My whole body feels sour, all tight and tucked into Capezio. I’d much rather be wearing the loose pants and draping tops of my New…
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