Jun 29, 2009 | Fiction |
– I’ve spoken to Mary, he said to me. She and I agree that it’s more important to speak the truth than to make money. Harrison laughed at that, but cut himself short, remembering the sadness of the occasion. My son John was there, he said, looking at...
Jun 24, 2009 | Fiction |
Jachin-Boaz traded in maps. He bought and sold maps, and some, of certain kinds for special uses, he made or had others make for him. That had been his father’s trade, and the walls of the shop that had been his father’s were hung with glazed blue oceans,...
Jun 22, 2009 | Fiction |
Because the white man has power, we too want power, he said. But when a black man gets power, when he gets money, he is a great man if he is not corrupted. I have seen it often. He seeks power and money to put right what is wrong, and when he gets them, why, he enjoys...
Jun 8, 2009 | Fiction |
“You know what’s funny,” I say, “the thing I was most worried about when I was down there, in the South Side, driving around and talking into the tape recorder? I was worried that after I was shot near the lake, that the murderer, who really...
Jun 1, 2009 | Fiction |
Sadness and fear and hate, how they well up in the heart and mind, whenever one opens the pages of these messengers of doom. Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children...
Jun 1, 2009 | Fiction |
Though he was going to be a writer, the kind of writing he was going to do was traditional. While at Tokyo University he had published some short stories in a prominent magazine and on the strength of this auspicious debut he had been pleasingly identified as one who...
