Hur’s new novel offers a suspenseful search for family secrets, populated with ghosts and Korean folk stories.

Not being able to go home again resembles the nature of trauma: it can be located, but it cannot be solved.

When Henry enters a Walmart to steal medicine for his sick child, he glances up to see an American flag dangling from its side, “turning its stripes into prison cell bars.” With thirty-eight cents in his pocket, he struggles to focus on his mission while being enticed and overwhelmed by the abundance of goods on […]

Nors achieves exquisite interiority in these narratives, burrowing so precisely into a character’s memory and revealing its ever-present nature in the mind.

Missaghi’s book maps the city and its dead, maps the way women move and act in public and private spaces in the city, maps history and overlaps it with a present.

The seventy-one pieces in this dexterous, surprising collection are often weird and unexpectedly weighty, particularly for such trim stories, like Lydia Davis by way of David Lynch.

The approach feels organic, echoing the experience of families receiving letters from Vietnam “in lots of three or more.” The missives are read “straight through and out of order.”

Boyles has written stories of surprising range, while maintaining a focus on how human beings—particularly men—are imperiling our planet through careless exploitation and short-term economic goals.

Laynie Jackman darts across the country “taking leave of the dead” by dispersing the belongings of lost loved ones.