The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Gish Jen Reads Grace Paley

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

Selina, You Should See Richards Still. He's in Spain

Anne's son Richard is in spain. He used to call every day for a week, mostly to give orders to his brother but also to say how he was doing. Anne: "The kids tatare all the same" The night abbey died, when the police called and told me, that was my first night's sleep in two years."

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