translated by Rebecca Morris and Pamela Casey A young Tibetan sits in the sand by Zha Ling Lake. He is skinny and about eighteen. The throbbing sun scorches his thick dark hair. The lake is silent before him, a steely blue. The Kunlun Mountains reach up beyond the lake, iced snow coating the tops, peak…
Molly’s father was a physicist, and not the garden-variety kind. He had been in one of Orion’s college textbooks as the Eisenstat Principle of something or other. Matter? Motion? Orion didn’t remember, although it was assumed he knew which. The Eisenstats assumed many things. "I take it the two of you are planning to get…
Mrs. Venkataraman had never seen a black man before. There they were in the arrival lounge at Murtala Muhammad Airport, with their coal-black skins and eyes, pawing through their passports, looking for the residence visas her husband’s university had obtained for them, shaking their heads and laughing loudly, saying Eh-hehn Eh-hehn over and over again….
A Romance Novel in Ten Short Chapters Chapter One One day—taken by the lilt of his wrists and the most beautiful hands she had ever seen on a man—she impetuously threw in her lot with a deaf and dumb mechanic who’d been deaf and dumb from birth. She fell in love as she was watching…
She is standing in the doorway of the barn loft, swaying backwards and forwards. Both her hands are over her head and flat against the inside of the lintel; her heels come off the floor on her forward motion, and she keeps her toes down on her backward motion, curling them around the rough…
I stood on Mr. Silvia’s porch with my last thirty-six dollars rolled in a rubber band tucked between breast and belly fat. I remembered the house from when I was a kid. Back then it was a gap-toothed barn where we played while birds flew in and out above us. Now it was a…
from House of Widows Like most men under the right circumstances, my father could walk on water. In fact, he did it often, and sometimes he took me along. Together we stood on the frozen whitecaps of Cape Ann looking back at the lights of our town on the Massachusetts north shore. Even half a…
April 1995 With his ear for a tune and facility with languages, Chaim Traum should have excelled at eavesdropping, but he did not. Something went wrong in the step between deciphering and understanding, a failure to move inside the conversation and string all the fragmented phrases together. His wife was more skilled. Through their daughter’s…
Diane holds the map in her hands and turns it counterclockwise. She notices how awful her dry, broken thumbnails look, and she tilts the palms of her hands upward to conceal them. "This is the park where we were dropped off, so I think we are here somewhere." Diane taps Zhonglu Road with her index…
No products in the cart.