The first time I made a wish, I wished for a tin frog that made a loud clicking sound when you squeezed it, which I’d seen lying around at a friend’s house.
In Lana Bastašić’s tale of two school friends who meet after several decades to drive across Bosnia, a phone call from an old school friend jolts Sara, a Bosnian now living in Dublin, backwards in time to the Balkan wars.
Are the other mothers working harder than she is, she wonders, so very much harder? Ought she to be ashamed?
Separated by seven decades yet unified by their living space, the real-life psychiatrist Frieda Fromm-Reichmann and the fictional psychotherapist Eliza Kline communicate across time in Frieda’s Song, a historical novel by Ellen Prentiss Campbell about the work of healing.
I will admit that my new novel, Darling at the Campsite, does not lend itself to a compelling elevator pitch. It’s basically this: an aimless thirty-something is still trying to get over his high school girlfriend.
Before a place can become a place, it must have secrets.
One could be tempted to describe Spirits of the Ordinary by Kathleen Alcalá as a family saga, set against the backdrop of social unrest at the US-Mexican border in the 1870s, but it feels more accurate to depict it as the deeply existential account of a set of remarkable characters torn between the mandates of gender, mysticism, their personal aspirations, and a schism between the cultural (and political) hegemony of Catholicism vs. their own Jewish ancestry.
“Just merge, the other drivers will make room for you,” my therapist said from the passenger seat as I entered the freeway, hands slick with sweat, heart pounding.
Badal had choreographed many fierce duels in his time. Take for instance the battle between his chestnut-brown pheasant and a gray rooster of foreign breed that his opponent bought at a high price.
Two authors discuss their recently published second books and the routes they took to write them.
In Cuba in 1993, daily life was a series of mathematical calculations. There were the calculations of rations, of loved ones who had emigrated and the percentage of friends who remained (for now) and, above all, of the odds that things would ever improve.