In photography class, you had learned to control your breathing, to narrow your focus and attention and direct it at one external object outside of you.
My father and his younger brother tried to make me a man by forcing me to learn how to fish. Towards the end of my fourteenth winter, as soon as the lake thawed, my father wanted his father to begin training me.
I don’t believe that I will ever like Michelle, even though I love who she is when she is my brother. I want to accept the arrangement, but I am still having trouble processing the fact that the person I rely on is not him.
When your great-grandparents grew up in Stalin’s terror-famine, your grandparents in the Holocaust, and your parents in a straddle between totalitarianism and democracy, you grew up confused about pain. Were you entitled to it? Was it real?
No doubt the reason we knew the animals so well was because my father was a vet, and so his life and our livelihood were fundamentally entangled with the lives of other creatures.
Stories-within-stories is a classic Middle Eastern format with roots much deeper than The Arabian Nights. Your book marries these traditions and implodes them.
No one knew where the FTs came from. Like the basketball that hit you in the nose out of nowhere, they just materialized in front of us and walked into our life with their long legs.
Everyone joked about how the two brothers’ names had become their destinies. Sihai, four oceans. A man forever moving. Weijia, settle down. A man who makes a home.
My dad and I don’t know what to say to each other, or how to cut through the choking weight of the day, or where to begin with the information. So, one day we decide to book a flight and go to the Daintree—to bird-watch.
“We didn’t have sex then.” Luisa paused. “I just…made it up.” She kissed her sister’s shoulder through the cloth of her nightgown. A relief invaded Amaia; the force of it embarrassed her slightly.
In an excerpt from her memoir Negative Space, Lilly Dancyger writes about moving back to New York City as a teenager and grappling with her father's death.
At your wedding, you set out on a two-person expedition toward a place you try to envision but have never seen. Later, you may wake one morning alone under an alien sky and wonder how you ever came to be here.
The astrologist’s question has nothing to do with star-crossed lovers. Rather, she tells me, the positioning of the planets suggests a terror within me.
Inside these sounds, she’d said, people’s lives either became richer than what they usually were, like fruits ripened by good weather, or fell flat, like dry leaves.
Officially, B.A. Ehikhamenor was an uneducated farmer. Privately, he was a devoted scribe, a relentless keeper of records and photographs that preserve intimate memories of Nigeria’s tumultuous post-colonial transition.
Believing she had fallen asleep, he was about to stretch across to switch off the lamp on her nightstand but found she was lying with her eyes open looking at him over the top of the book. Her gaze was quite calm, yet there was something about it he found unsettling, something distant and simultaneously searching.
Your son will smile with half his mouth because he is seventeen and unaware of what sorrows lie ahead of him, and also because a girl in his Advanced Topics in Social Justice told him he looked cute doing so.
Emilio was hesitant at first, sure, but two hundred bucks was a lot of money for anyone, even for Stewart, and how bad could it be to get a five-minute blow job?
An excerpt of the novel by Simon HanNovember 6, 2020
Before long, he grew desperate. After consulting in secret with a village grannie who still carried on with the old beliefs, he traveled west until he found a woman known as the Queen Mother.
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