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              Deluge by Jack Somers

              A single fat droplet hit the singed crown of Maximilian’s scallop, spread into a glassy oval, and dissolved. Maximilian swallowed the remnants of crostini he was languidly munching and glanced up at the ceiling.

              Book Reviews

              Portrait of Sebastian Khan by Aatif Rashid

              One of the most striking qualities of Aatif Rashid’s debut novel, Portrait of Sebastian Khan, is its ability to lay bare misunderstanding, in the moment it appears.



              Proving Ground by Lori Barrett

              Phoebe sat up to look. Four days of driving across the country, warm air blowing in the windows, had weaved the hair on the back of her head into a ball. White and yellow lights dotted the darkness on her mom’s side of the car.

              Book Reviews

              Prodigal Children in the House of G-d by Yermiyahu Ahron Taub

              Taub’s characters, though rooted in religious and cultural specificity, convey a sense of mon humanity in all its plicated glory.



              Lost Girls by Nicole Simonsen

              The window sill in Louisa’s bedroom has fallen off again. She is about to push the sill back in place when she notices that the wall is hollow. A feeling es over her, a voice whispers put your hand inside.

              Book Reviews

              If The Ice Had Held by Wendy J. Fox

              Fox brings to the family saga a poet’s eye for those details that convey the hidden mass of the iceberg and its ineluctable momentum, and her incisive prose cuts a channel through the ice of family silences to show us the choppy waters of lore, of secrets, of hidden loves from which we all emerge.


              Research Notes

              Jessica Handler on The Magnetic Girl

              In order to travel back in time, a writer needs a map. Not a GPS, redirecting and redirecting as it evaluates traffic from a satellite. No mechanized voice from my phone, scolding me to take a left in fifty, forty, thirty feet. When I traveled to 1880s America, I used a physical map.



              Evidence by Anna Mantzaris

              As a child I thought the name was pity helmet, which is what my mother called it each time she spotted our neighbor — a divorced man with custody of five — wearing one.



              My Job by Mikan Ai, tr Marissa Skeels

              Book Reviews

              Girl Zoo by Aimee Parkison and Carol Guess

              The book burns hot for the entirety of its read-time, and ultimately, leaves the reader with a puzzling-yet-fitting finish.



              Afflicted by Ellen Rhudy

              Not all girls leave a slime trail wherever they go; but the ones who do, Martine’s aunt says, are uniquely beautiful.