To receive the newsletter, SIGN UP
For premium content and the print edition, SUBSCRIBE
Advertisement

The Joy of Agony

I am paid every month to be a 72-year-old woman. Though the payment is only on paper, so is her mode of expression. She is, in British parlance, an “agony aunt.” Dear Granny Gaijin, My name is Nathan and I am...

An Awesome Gap

Around the corner, the lot opened up and the asphalt smoothed out. The rough patches disappeared and Patrick glided along, gaining speed as he headed for a concrete barrier. A half dozen of them sat angled in different directions,...

Keepers

I know that on good nights they’ll drink a decent bottle of wine or two and sit on their kitchen counters and play Catchphrase. They’ll yell at each other with purple-teethed smiles and clap when someone has the insight...

Nathaniel

It was the year you turned fourteen and we found out Molly was allergic to olives. The year the snowmobile slid down the bank on its own accord, gliding across the frozen lake and falling through thin ice; the...

Far in the Hole

An out-take from the acclaimed novel Heat and Light. Jennifer Haigh: In drafting a novel, I give myself permission to follow every thread of story that fascinates me. This keeps the process interesting, and results in livelier, more surprising...
I unfolded the fading black and red dhurrie on the floor and placed my sitar on it. My grandmother shuffled to the sofa, sat and picked up one foot and folded it under the other thigh. I brought her...
1 When she turned the corner of the store, holding two gallons of paint in one hand and box of rainbow chalk in the other, I realized I’d dreamt about her the night before. In my dream, I was still...
April 15th, 1832 On the second day of our anchorage at the mouth of the Rio Santa Cruz, I led a party of sailors up to the summit of the hill where I’d stumbled upon an Indian grave. Two large...
Drunk and pensive, Chappy does not try and stop himself from calling his ex. Faced with her direct words, he looks, if only for a moment, at himself.

Parnassus

The year my father moved to Oregon, I asked Santa to bring me a puppy. When he didn’t deliver, I began my lobbying campaign. I had the perfect dog in mind—a Scottish terrier I’d call Blackie—and I drew pictures of...

Mum’s Dog

Dad never liked Mum's dog, but he only killed it by accident. He hit it with the car in our driveway, just as we got back home from football practice. He was telling me about the Dutch team in...

Jaguar

Bocas Del Toro, Panama 1931 In the house where Mama got sick, we five children, all under the age of twelve, waited for our fathers. Mama was a troupe singer and dancer. Dancer headwrap and dancer feet. Dancer fingers and...
Advertisement