I know in a certain way, fiction writers have to be murderers. We have to be able to look into those dark corners of ourselves and the people around us. But there are ways to write into the dark corners ethically.
Dudu coughs a little harder, the way his dad has coughed since the flight. A cough he thinks his uncles would cough after their cigars, fiercer than the coughs he has mastered at his school’s nurse’s office.
FARAH ALI is from Pakistan. Her work has been anthologized in the 2020 Pushcart Prize as well as received special mention in the 2018 Pushcart anthol- ogy. Her stories have appeared in Shenandoah, The Arkansas International, The Southern Review, Kenyon Review online, Copper Nickel, Ecotone,
Announcing the release of MQR 60:3, Our Summer Fiction Issue Cover art by Eduardo Paolozzi, courtesy of UMMA and Diane Kirkpatrick Table of Contents Forward Polly Rosenwaike: Closer Fiction Farah Ali: Beautiful Felipe Bomeny: Tubarão Dounia Choukri: Black Bread Ye Chun: Anchor Baby Susan Muaddi
In my formative years, my perception of a future beyond my parents’ brick rancher was entirely divorced from the concept of intersectionality. Even when life did have certain movie-like qualities (the choppiness of certain flashbacks, the surreal acceptance of a death in the family), they were not the ones I was taught to expect.
