When I found out that a Bosnian family had moved into our neighborhood, just across from my place, I was thrilled. I had left Bosnia seven years before, and I hardly ever saw anybody from there

On a scale of one to ten, with ten being childbirth, this will be a three.

A three? Really?

Yes. That’s what they say.

Never was there such a ship. From the marshes, where it rests parallel to the river, the hull rises above the advancing crowd like a black, iron cliff. It forms an escarpment that blocks the people's view

During the course of last year's Lake Como weekend conversazione on the subject of crime writing, it was suggested that the participants might enjoy (not that there wasn't enough to do given the 

This day, a nation turns out for its own wake. The air is raw, but scrubbed by last night’s rain. Sunday rises, red and protestant, over the Potomac.

I am a lady drone and a big eater. I eat for the tribe and I eat well. How I gorge, grinning back at my spare teeth on the wall, knowing the tribe depends on me! My chewing does not deviate from regulation

I'm writing this letter to tell you some things you might not know about your writer-in-residence, Henry Marks. Some you may already know. If you've read Private George Johnson, his first novel, 

The gray square above is meant to stand in for a photograph of my dead wife, may she rest in peace. For a photograph, that is, of my wife dead and in her coffin, which I took during the first moments of the 

The man driving the truck is called Cipriano Algor, he is a potter by profession and is sixty-four years old, although he certainly does not look his age. The man sitting beside him is his son-in-law, Marçal Gacho, and he is not yet thirty. Nevertheless, from his face too, you would think him much younger

Walking the dog for Margaret (that yappy bastard, Tyde), Henderson had been going along the bike path in the park, clutching a paper bag (Oh, will you be a dear and get some of those, whatsit almonds, those smoky things? and the gin, of course), so enjoying his solitary bits of merriment,