The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Ben Lerner Reads John Berger

The New Yorker: Fiction

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You May Meet the Dead Anywhere, She Said.

An actress accompanied by three men and wearing a backless dress makes her entrance into the lounge. On one of the trio's sofas reclines a woman with platinum hair. Her skeletal legs are crossed and a shoe is dangling from her arched foot. She might be Cersei's sister Pasifé, who had an affair with the bull of Crete and gave birth to the Minotaur. The waiter brings Tyler a bottle of white wine in her nice bucket and a silver stand of sandwiches decorated with parsley. During this conversation, Tyler sips his wine and doesn't glance in my direction for a second.

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