新着

It is 2008. Sam’s dream publishing debut is three years behind him. Now he is a writer without a story. Desperate for inspiration, he takes the opportunity to ghostwrite an old Vietnamese solider’s memoir, only to find that his subject, Mr. Lan, is an intractable communist, whose amazing narrative is rooted in the vilification of Vietnamese emigres, the very people Sam’s debut celebrated.

“You are told to believe in one paradise / and then there is the paradise you come to know,” begins Rick Barot. What follows is an account of the rich and thorny valley between those poles. Moving the Bones dwells in liminal spaces—of love and memory, the pandemic’s singular domesticity, a serene cemetery of ancestral plots, dawn. In precise and tender verse, Barot captures the particularities of being in the middle of one’s life, reflecting on the joys and sorrows of the past and confronting the inevitabilities that lie ahead.

The Ibrahim family is facing a crucial moment: Their patriarch just lost his fortune as the result of a Ponzi scheme, and the family is picking up the pieces. At the family’s core is Asma—successful doctor and the long-suffering middle daughter who stepped into the family center after the death of her beloved mother years ago. Despite what the prying aunties think, Asma is living the life she has always wanted, fulfilling her childhood dream of becoming a doctor...or so she thinks. In walks Farooq Waheed, Asma’s college sweetheart whose proposal was cruelly rejected by Asma’s aunt and father.