Presented here for the first time in English, the cult writer Charles Chahwan—"Lebanon's answer to Charles Bukowski"—tells a tale of rival militiamen euphoric with violence.   Under the gentle afternoon sunlight, Serge’s body appeared limp and more slouched than usual as he rested against the back seat of the shared taxi, a Morris Princess. He was the sole passenger in the service as it made its way down the coastal highway, as if other potential...

In this short story from Kim Bong-gon, a Korean student in Kyoto saves his professor from scandal, then finds himself on the verge of creating a new one.   Professor Shibata’s publishing class, with all its good intent, was slightly unrealistic. “A good writer makes a good editor, and vice versa.”  Her very first statement sounded like a fine opening, but upon giving it more thought, one began by asking “Oh, yeah?” and ended with a “Like...

A student meets her first androgyne and makes a startling discovery in this chapter from a futuristic novel by Lee Jong San.   My feet were wet when I met Ahn. It was the day before the Entrance Ceremony. The snow, which started falling the night before, had lasted till morning, and everything outside had turned white. For me, the ankle-deep snow was so exciting and new that I walked around in it outside for quite some time before returning to the dormitory. I opened the door to...

In this short story by Afro-Puerto Rican author Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro, a tough preteen girl fights for acceptance and finds unexpected kinship.   1 I've come to the conclusion that purple is the color of secrets. In art class, the teacher insists on teaching us that colors have meanings. Red means passion. White is purity. Green seems to be the color of hope. Nobody speaks of purple but I encounter it so often, accentuating the skin, cheeks, and knees of so many classmates...

An anxious college student falls for a blue-collar man in Matteo Bianchi’s short story.   La stagione dell’amore viene e va   all’improvviso, senza accorgerti  la vivrai, ti sorprenderà. Love’s season comes and goes until suddenly you realize to your surprise, it is your life. —Franco Battiato The absurd heat of a May afternoon insinuates itself through my bedroom window to the accompaniment of Electronic’s mongrel mix...

A village tailor, a lonely client, and the shy apprentice caught in the middle, from a novel by Lu Min​.   Listen to Lu Min read "Scissors, Shining" in the original Chinese.   I was extremely devoted to studying Master Song’s craft, surrounded by swaths of cloth and bits of thread, whiling away a boyhood like a plant dyed an unnatural hue, brightly colored, but sick inside, silently suffering. I would go home once a week, and my parents would poke fun at...

A famous French writer recalls the affair that led to the secret of her success, from a novel by Céline Minard.   I drew up my first will as I was getting deeper and deeper into my third decade and my sales were increasing like an upwelling in a sea of oil, in order to stave off any potential plundering—postmortem or otherwise—and all havoc that could result from implied rights, from all the legal consequences that might arise should I have left everything...

In the grip of obsession, a man turns an open relationship into a triangle in an excerpt from a novel by Kári Tulinius.  Listen to Kári Tulinius read "Abel's Autobiography" in the original Icelandic.   Life never chooses the right moment to unveil love to you for the first time, when you’ve not yet experienced it—not, for instance, at a moment when the days are lumbering by at a crawl, like station wagons in bumper-to-bumper traffic—but...

Montenegro’s Stefan Bošković on a writer, his editor/lover, and a double dumping.   I look at the clock again. Forty minutes separate me from dinner. I’m nicely dressed. Elegant, in gray. Perhaps I’ll change my shirt. He’d like to see me in garish colors. I have orange shoelaces, at least. I sit at the computer and listen to the ocean. Photos of the sea in slideshow are supposed to bolster the feeling. It doesn’t help. I’ll jerk off...

In this excerpt from a novel by Kim Hye-jin, a struggling daughter moves back home and brings her lover, forcing her widowed mother to face facts.   The waitress brings out two steaming bowls of udon noodles. My daughter’s face seems a little tired, a little gaunt, and a little aged as she rummages through the utensils box for spoons and chopsticks. Didn’t you get my text message, Mom? she asks me. I did. I kept telling myself I should call you but then I...

In this speculative fiction piece, there are as many universes as robots' dreams.    Panic There’s still some snow on the path. Last week, this same mountain went suddenly quiet. It was snowing. Just like in fairy tales, she had thought, slowing her pace, beautiful and sad. And so unlike today’s desolation: everything looks naked, cold, inanimate. Her breathing labored, she hurries forward. A mystifying anguish clings to her. Not far now. She...

When Genie wakes up after six years in a coma, she finds a disturbing new addition to the family.  Listen to Francesco Verso read "AIwakening and AIdolon" in the original Italian. AIwakening Mark is the first person I see, after so long.  “She’s awake. Come over here.” It must be Easter because, apart from some flowers, he’s holding an Easter egg.  “Hello darling, what year is it?” “Hello, Genie, it’s 2028.”...

Wistfulness meets indignation in Abdulaziz al-Omairi’s poetic meditation on abandonment and forgiveness.   You did not know that every time Fairuz sings to the dawn         on my way toward hurt  you emerge from the melody to reset sorrow ablaze only to depart like the years gone by taking my joy with you.   I waved my hand like a child whose mother vanished out of sight his feet rooted beneath the...

In these two microfiction pieces, a woman adopts an egg and a flower awaits a man to tend to her.    Bea’s Egg Bea returned from the intergalactic market with a smuggled mineral from the depths of the Universe. During the night, she heard a tick-tick-tick. She got up, turned on her bedside lamp and gasped. The light filtered through the rock, revealing its secret life.  “An egg?” Against the light, Bea saw a small winged creature. ...

In this excerpt from 2019 Man Booker International winner Jokha Alharthi's novel Bitter Orange, an Omani student dredges up her grandmother’s troubled past and grows entangled in the personal dilemmas of her fellow international students.   Fingers I open my eyes suddenly and see her fingers. One by one I see them, fleshy, wrinkled, the nails rough. A single silver ring; her thumb with its thick, tough black nail, preserving the traces of a bad injury that all but...

Badriya al-Badri’s protagonist, Suad, struggles to make a definitive gender transition, but tragedy ultimately strikes at another character’s doorstep.  

In this third installment of Sang Young Park's novella, two friends steal a microphone and discover their own insignificance. Read the first installment of the series here, and the second installment here. Oh flopped over the table. Flecks of black hair-loss-concealer powder fell upon the empty sashimi dishes. At least I won in terms of hair and alcohol. Not that it made me any happier. Oh, still prostrate on the table, mumbled about how he had to get to the Environmental Film...

In this short lyric piece by Alejandro Zambra, a bed sheet is a blank canvas and a record of family history.   It was before my dad set the house on fire. Fifteen or twenty days before.  There was a closet full of sheets, almost all of them white with red thread at the seams, Italian red. And one light blue set that was mine, patterned with blue letters or treble clefs.  My mother, from the window, her back to me, facing a white sheet; fifteen or twenty days before, back,...

In this short story, Alia Trabucco Zerán spins a tale of class, connection, and human cruelty in Chile.    Neither good nor bad. Neither nice nor unpleasant. Neither short nor long. It was life, period. The cloth wipes the grime. The broom gathers the trash. The water wets the soap. As I already said, the señora, the lady of the house, treated me well. If you ask her, she’ll say she considered me part of the family. Exactly which part I still don’t...

Boyhood friends meet again after years apart, sparking a trip through the narrator’s memory that leads to a forgotten—and harrowing—episode.  Listen to Eduardo Plaza read "Hyenas" in the original Spanish. 1 Miguel Rodewald and I were good friends. We knew each other because his family, who lived in Temuco, used to spend their summers in Coquimbo. When they were kids his father used to rent a house a few blocks from ours, in El Llano. We’d meet, five...