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Podcast: Anu Kumar on “The Woman in the Well”

July 22, 2022 Podcast, Podcasts & Audio

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Anu Kumar speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about her essay “The Woman in the Well,” which appears in The Common’s spring issue. Anu talks about the vivid memories from childhood that inspired this essay about ghosts, fear, family dynamics, and violence against women in India. She also discusses the revision process for the essay, her interest in writing women’s untold stories, and her current writing projects.

New to Liberty: A Conversation with DeMisty D. Bellinger

May 16, 2022 Interviews

DeMISTY D. BELLINGER interviewed by AMY REARDON

One of the best things about interviewing the poet, professor, and novelist DeMisty D. Bellinger, Ph.D., is how she drops a book recommendation into every answer. Another is the transparent manner in which she speaks of her work: her writing is so intentional that the scenes and characters seem to crawl inside the reader and live there. Once seen, the characters in Bellinger’s debut novel cannot be unseen. Released on April 19, 2022, by Unnamed Press, New to Liberty tells the stories of Sissily, Nella, and Greta, three lives sewn together by Dust Bowl-era Kansas, tragedy, and their own longings. Amy Reardon and DeMisty Bellinger spoke via phone and discussed whose experience gets centered in literature, how to give voice to the unvoiced, and Bellinger’s desire to write from questions to figure out how the world works.

Landscape with Cheetah Going Seventy in the Serengeti

May 2, 2022 Issue 23, Issue 23 Poetry, Poetry

By DAVID HERNANDEZ

That’s what that russet brushstroke is
below the skyline—her spots
lost in the open plains. That’s hunger
that blurs her. We cannot see
what she is chasing, but we can
imagine it. Zebra. Gazelle. Impala.
Antelope. The eyes of the animal
large in its sockets. I like that lone
acacia tree back there—it has this
bonsai spirit to it. This calm.
And the trio of almost imperceivable
stars in the upper corner, those light
pink grains, which remind me we are
also traveling quick around the sun—
957 times faster than this cheetah,
not to mention the speed of the sun
inside the Milky Way, and the Milky Way
through cold, dark, soundless space—
1.3 million mph, last time I checked.
Astronomers and physicists did
the math for us, but little did they know
what it would do to human minds
or hearts—mine is going
pretty fast now, just thinking about
our velocity, our spiraling out.
Here, place your palm against it.
Over my sticker that says Visitor.

Pastoral

May 2, 2022 Issue 23, Issue 23 Poetry, Poetry

By MICHAEL DUMANIS

Spin

May 2, 2022 Fiction, Issue 23, Issue 23 Fiction

By CHERYL COLLINS ISAAC

The mind works like a solar system, an interplanetary medium to keep things running smoothly. Moses speaks in a memorized whisper, his voice soft, like the warm towel he places on her forehead.

Hawa closes her eyes, drifts with the sensation of rocks pounding palm nuts open, small fingers reaching inside for kernels. They are teenagers again, and he is her caring boyfriend who brings her palm kernels for snacks when she lies sick with malaria. She heals and they celebrate with dance: the small of her back supported by his palms as she melts into a ballet fondu. They dance under the palm tree, pretend they are ballet partners at school, performers onstage. If only things were that simple again.

The Birthday

May 2, 2022 Fiction, Issue 23, Issue 23 Fiction

By EIDER RODRÍGUEZ

Translated by JULIA SANCHES

At the end-of-year meeting, the teacher had informed me that Izadi needed to take up a sport, “discover the strength she had inside her,” “meet people,” “socialize,” “work on her independence.” The teacher said these things and other things, just as he did at the end of every school year. I pretended to be surprised, but I knew all of that already. Usually, I was on top of her, and I figured that was a good thing, or maybe I didn’t know, I wasn’t sure. In any case, Izadi was special, and that was the price to pay for raising her with principles. I wanted to enjoy her company as much as possible—after all, I’d wanted to have her so badly. Before Izadi, I’d never taken care of anyone, at least not for such a long period of time, and it was more complicated than I’d thought it would be, much more complicated than just loving someone. Weekends, holidays, every single day… I took care of everything as if it were a lesson plan. I was tired; maybe that was why our relationship had deteriorated. So that summer I signed Izadi up for kayaking lessons even though she didn’t want them.

Oh, My Nana

May 2, 2022 Arabic Fiction, Fiction, Issue 23, Issue 23 Fiction

By SUHEIR ABU OKSA DAOUD

Translated by NASHWA GOWANLOCK

It was raining nonstop, and the flowing stream of rainwater collected anything it met along the dirt track. As if this apocalyptic scene weren’t savage enough for God, the rain brought with it thunderstorms and gales that threatened to uproot the streetlamp and thin cypress trees dotting the neighborhood.

It was freezing cold, and my grandmother crouched in a corner of the house near the dakhoon, which no one had lit, shivering under her black woollen shawl. From time to time, she muttered, “Oh, Mary, mother of Jesus, protect us!”

From Lockdown Garden

May 2, 2022 Issue 23, Issue 23 Poetry, Poetry

By ARVIND KRISHNA MEHROTRA

Left untrained,
the bitter melon’s taken over
the mulberry, dusting it

Granada

May 2, 2022 Arabic Fiction, Fiction, Issue 23, Issue 23 Fiction

By SUHAIL MATAR

Translated by AMIKA FENDI

“Let’s see if he’s working now. Yes, there he is.”

Ayed heard these sentences inside the shawarma shop where he worked on Calle Elvira. As he turned around, he recalled what had been uttered just previously, in the middle of the evening rush: “Assalamu alikun, Ayed!”

“Wa ‘alaykum as-Salam. How are you, Tony?” he answered in Arabic.

Antonio, Ayed’s friend, was an amicable young man who joked quite a lot in a manner that erred on the sexual side. He also was learning Fuṣḥa at one of the many language centers in Granada. Ayed liked him for his good nature and because he was Ayed’s umbilical cord to the happenings in Granada’s nightlife. Often Tony came accompanied by one girl, or several—for the most part, tourists—to say hi to Ayed at his workplace. He would then ask him, before throwing him a knowing wink, to join them after his shift. So, Ayed was puzzled when he saw that Antonio’s escort was a lanky, short guy. The guy’s face was smeared with an obvious awkwardness, camouflaged under a half smile. The young man greeted Ayed with a nod and said, “How’re you doing?”