Aug 10, 2024 | Fiction |
The sky in Rancy is the same as in Detroit, a smoky soup that bathes the plain all the way to Levallois. Cast-off buildings bogged down in black muck. From a distance the chimneys, big ones and little ones, look like the fat stakes that rise out of the muck by the...
Dec 31, 2022 | Fiction |
“Mother you held me on your knee. Mother you worked for me. Mother, you taught me to toddle. Mother, you fed me at your dear old breast.” His voice died away to a whisper and in the ensuing silence I looked round the tent at the dim, grave faces of the...
Dec 18, 2021 | Fiction |
Since her arrival at Imber she had not for one second seriously contemplated leaving. But now, driven by this fit of solipsistic melancholy one degree more desperate, she felt the need of an act: and it seemed that there was only one act which she could perform, to...
Jul 11, 2020 | Fiction |
Malcolm was yet in his suite. He was speaking to Susan on the phone. “Let’s eat food, for lunch,” she said. “Can’t do that.” “Let’s drink a drink in a bar.” “No.” Recalling certain past behaviors, she deduced he was in the grips of the hotel unwellness. In a patient...
Nov 23, 2019 | Fiction |
A five year-old in 1968 paints a picture. What’s in it? First, a mother, giver of paper and paints, saying Make me something beautiful. Then a house with a door floating in the air, and a chimney with curls of spiraling smoke. Then four Appich children in...
