I hoped to discover by means of an extended research project just how close the similarities might be, and where the differences lay. Such an endeavor could bring us nearer to an answer to the question, “What makes man human?”
A long time ago, my Persian mother became a prophet, like Tiresias, and she told me I would die. But what does she know? She was cursed for interrupting love, for not allowing it.
In our Spring 2018 issue, Frances McCue teaches American Literature in Marrakesh, Iman Mersal (translated by Robin Moger) searches for her mother in an old photograph, and Nahal Suzanne Jamir reflects on the dreams surrounding her mother’s loss of vision.
Fiction by Jane Bradley, Nicholas Delbanco, Ally Glass-Katz, and Fahima Haque.
Poetry by Benjamin Alfaro, Fady Joudah, Shane McCrae, David Mura, Nkosi Nkululeko, Jacqueline Osherow, Lena Khalaf Tuffaha, and Kamelya Youssef.
First, I should note that my subject is a topic civilized people rarely discuss. We are here to talk about money. The discussion will be crass. Incriminating details will be disclosed, actual figures cited.
A body is neutral, objective, a fact—no more meant to be interpreted than a rock or a car. Different bodies shouldn’t mean different things, and yet. Other people have different interpretations of my husband’s body: its intent, threat, capabilities, worth.