trans. Arabic James Kenneson with Soad Sobhi and Essam Fatouh 9. At home and in the alley, you hear the gossip over and over. A neighbor asks my mother, "Oh, by the way, did you hear the strange news?" My mother begs her to go on. The woman says, "About Tawheeda, daughter of Um Ali…
"I don't believe it, not a bit of it," Esco Mize said. "I've heard about them kind of preachers all my life and I ain't seen one yet that wasn't holding a snake with one hand and reaching in your pocket with the other. Lord, he must think wer're just a bunch of hicks here."…
This is a chapter of a novel: TESTIMONIAL. Earl Loden, 52, gets cancer and he proceeds in a black humour type of way to try to redeem a messed up life. This particular section deals with his first night home from the university hospital after undergoing three weeks of chemotherapy. Lynda is his wife. Hal…
My family had moved to Hong Kong because Tak-nam, my older brother, was very sick. He had bad heart and lung problems, and we thought that Hong Kong, with its warm climate and ocean air, would help him. We lived in a cottage on top of a small hill overlooking a bay. The water was…
Her journal was stolen. More correctly, her car was stolen and the journal was in the trunk in a tote bag. It happened three weeks ago, the day after she made the long drive from Portsmouth to Pennsylvania to spend Thanksgiving with her mother. She had just broken off a lingering love affair by changing…
His father had died at Auschwitz in July of 1969, quite probably the only Jew to have done so in twenty-four years and unquestionably the only one who'd been flown from there from what seemed like halfway round the world to begin his trip to dust in the quiet earth of Mosstown. Not to mention…
the darkness of love, in whose sweating memory all error is forced. – Amiri Baraka DAY 1 When Handle woke at ten in the morning, he got up and walked to the far window. Hungover, he half expected the sound of traffic or the fading drone of an airliner as he lifted the window….
trans. Italian Ruth Feldman After an hour spent in the desert, I try to set down in writing everything that I have learned. When walking in the desert you have to keep your gaze on the ground all the time so as to study the position of each step; under your eyes you always have…
In memory of Barbara Loden Sometimes, when I see people like Rose, I imagine them as babies, as young children. I suppose many of us do. We search the aging skin of the face, the unhappy eyes and mouth. Of course I can never imagine their fat little faces at the breast, or their cheeks…
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