Creative nonfiction by Emily Costa, plus six short stories: two by Phebe Jewell that’ll take the paint off the walls, plus Amber Baird, Francesca Leader, Ruth Brandt, and prior fave Andrew Bertaina.
Inside a Black Hole by Andrew Bertaina
Bertaina writes about anxiety and guilt so well — I think about his piece On Shame all the time — and that comes through in a couple ways in this story. It’s about new parents trying to find buy a house, and the one that checks their boxes also has a black hole in a closet.
Long before he travels through the black hole, ripping the fabric of his life, they are looking for the perfect house, the sort of place you could raise a family on modest salaries. First, they have to say goodbye to their dream of a back yard large enough for a trampoline. Their daughters have been begging for it, wheedling and cajoling, teary-eyed. They both love their daughters in the oppressive way of modern parenting. But the taxes are too high on the houses with lush yards, large privacy fences, cone flower and tiger lilies ringing the bright green lawns. Barrel-chested robins hop about on the grass and light feathers the leaves of the oak. The idea of the trampoline now gone, the wife gazes at the oak.
We could put a swing on it, she says.
Someone else will, he answers.
The Dog and the Giraffe by Ruth Brandt
A story told from the perspective 9-year-old Cara, about getting used to a new family arrangement. Brandt channels the child’s point of view so well.
Frankenhooker (1990) by Emily Costa
Emily Costa’s memoir starts off almost funny, but deepens into something extremely raw and personal. It’s about coming to terms with her dad’s life and work, and reconciling guilty cinematic pleasures. And it includes lines like this:
This was also the year we all noticed my dad was actually more similar to a sex-crazed alien broccoli than we’d previously thought.
Unleashing the Dogs by Phebe Jewell
All of the content warnings on this one, but it’s a doozy of a short read. First line:
You tell yourself you won’t put the gun in your mouth while your mother is alive.
Liberations by Phebe Jewell
A short, weird horror story that’s full of metaphors about aging and childhood that leave a lot to interpretation:
For generations, the children of Malia’s town freed their animals during the annual Fall Festival before they started school. Some cried as they said goodbye, but most were like Max, Malia’s brother, who couldn’t wait to be rid of the loud bear thumping inside him.
The Wizard of Ozempic by Amber Baird
I don’t want to spoil any of this story. The narrator has an eating disorder and is looking for help with it, and then it gets absolutely wild. The narrator’s voice is so distinct and foreboding:
Pizza, every kind: floppy New Yorks and Chicago casseroles and California thin crusts and midwestern squares with cured pork toppings and healthy mozzarella pulls.
If she wasn’t already dead, along with the rest of my family, I’d trade my grandma for any of the above.
Now You See Him by Francesca Leader
A story with footnotes for days, this is a story about a bad boyfriend that spirals out into all kinds of interesting directions.
I could use a smoke before I go in—I mean, yeah, I knew what I was doing. Got pregnant on purpose. Knew I’d be aborting it and everything. But I’m no psycho! Some girls eat. Some starve. Some shop. Some cut themselves. I guess killing my ex-boyfriend’s baby is just my version of that.