Folded Sky

Near the end of the three-hour drive, the car packed to bursting with clothes and Ikea shelves and collapsible laundry hampers and extra towels and chargers and everything else a freshman in college could possibly need, we stop in Milford, Connecticut. We get sandwiches at a Subway. It's just my mother and me. The bridge… Continue reading Folded Sky

Turning From the East

My compass rose is a one-story green house on a street called Prospect, with a red mailbox and three bushes and a Japanese maple out front. Above the square white garage door are mounted three white tiles with a ribbon pattern and the numerals 4, 7, 5, beneath gutters that invariably clog with leaves in… Continue reading Turning From the East

On Compost and Mambas

My family has always promoted the organic-free-range-no-high-fructose-corn-syrup lifestyle. I say “my family,” but really I mean my parents; I was usually an unenthusiastic participant in the community gardening and Tom’s of Maine toothpaste purchasing. In keeping with middle-class environmentalist philosophy, we kept a delightfully putrid compost pile nestled in the pachysandra shrubs of our New… Continue reading On Compost and Mambas

The New Scarlet Letter: Hester, Donald, and the Failure of Shame

In a moment, however, wisely judging that one token of her shame would but poorly serve to hide another, she took the baby on her arm, and, with a burning blush, and yet a haughty smile, and a glance that would not be abashed, looked around at her townspeople and neighbours. On the breast of… Continue reading The New Scarlet Letter: Hester, Donald, and the Failure of Shame