The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Ling Ma Reads Nicole Krauss

The New Yorker: Fiction

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The Film's Ending

The film ends with a shot of Arshadi falling asleep in his grave. The last line of the film is spoken as Louis Armstrong's mournful trumpet starts to wail. It was not until sometime after she had laid her father in the ground and shoveled the dirt into his grave herself that Romi recalled Arshadi. So many intense things had happened to her since she had walked home full of joy in the twilight that she hadn't had time to think about the film again. She'd stayed on in London to take care of her father's things and when there was nothing left, remained in the nearly empty apartment for months. At night after mark came home from work he would

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