This month we celebrate our tenth anniversary with compelling new work by some of our favorite writers from the last decade. In two tales of the afterlife, Sakumi Tayama’s fraudulent mediums channel unexpected spirits, and Marek Huberath’s grieving widower bids a prolonged farewell. Eduardo Halfon finds the ghost of his grandfather in a Guatemalan bully, while Iraq’s Najem Wali, in Lisbon, commemorates lost cities and loves. Mazen Kerbaj slips into a reverie; Évelyne Trouillot's bourgeoise is jolted from hers. Nahid Mofazzari talks dual existence with Goli Taraghi; Carmen Boullosa traces historical theft in Mexico; Can Xue portrays the decline and revitalization of a revered leader. We hope you’ll join us in saluting these writers and the many others we've presented throughout the years. Elsewhere, we present writing on the Rwandan genocide by Kelsy Lamko, Esther Mujawayo and Souâd Belhaddad, and Michaella Rugwizangoga, introduced by Elizabeth Applegate.

Writing from Rwanda

From “A Butterfly in the Hills”

Before the chaos came, the whole world knew me.

A Coward’s Repentance

Genocide works because, inside of you, genocide never ends.


Rwanda, today, lets me tread on its soil.

Cyarwa cya nyarwaya

Your stories flow in the blood of my dear ones

Book Reviews

Mircea Cărtărescu’s “Blinding”

Together, these texts form an ecstatic and elegiac epic, in which the reader travels across the body of a butterfly (literally and figuratively), from the begining to the end of time.

Sergio Chejfec’s “The Dark”

At his best, the Argentine Sergio Chejfec carries the torch of the great ambulatory writers, from De Quincy to Sebald.

White Sand, Black Stone

Your passport, señor, expired last month.

Between Two Worlds: An Interview with Goli Taraghi

Dealing with censorship is a game of hide and seek.

From “Texas: The Great Theft”

The truth is that the gringos took advantage of several things

Spirit Summoning, Part I

It was Yoko who made me become a fake medium six months ago.

My Cloud

With practice I managed to fix stars.

Balm of a Long Farewell

"I thought it was a game, but they ripped my heart out."

The Old Cicada

He saw the leering youth approach.

The Sad Portuguese

At that exact moment, more than sixty jets flew overhead.


How could anyone let people live in such conditions?