In The Language of Elk, men and creatures stagger in a no man's land between wildness and domesticity, jealous, cracked, burning to be acknowledged. Like the flaming projectiles his protagonists often launch into the sky, these stories crackle with energy and violence and a furious beauty. Benjam...
The war in Iraq empties the small town of Tumalo, Oregon, of men—of fathers—leaving their sons to fight among themselves. But the boys’ bravado fades at home when, alone, they check e-mail again and again for word from their fathers at the front.Often from fractured homes and communities, the you...
His eyes are red-rimmed, watery. His forehead, the broad plain of it, is road-mapped with wrinkles. His skin is a yellow shade of pale. His hair has almost as much gray in it as brown; his wife says it makes him look extinguished. His lips appear pinched and they shudder now and then as if he wer...
The glass doors split open. He grabs a cart and circles it through the fruits and vegetables, and then the bakery, spotting her there. She wears black fleece and blue jeans, her hair tied up in a ponytail that bobs when she walks. In one hand she carries a basket weighed down by oranges and banan...
Patrick has not answered the phone, though Malerie has called him more than a dozen times in the past few days. Three voice mails, the first cheery babble, the second a long sigh, the third asking him what the hell was going on. “Patrick? Seriously. You better call back.” Here her voice grew crue...
Lewis bathes until his toes and fingers wrinkle. He drinks until his stomach aches. The horses splash along the banks and feast on grass, and when Lewis walks past his own mount, she whickers and nuzzles his neck and stares at him with her soft black eyes and he pets her and can’t help but smile....