~
I'm not talking about François and Hélène Erard, of course; I have never been in a home more pleasant, welcoming, intimate, warm and happy than theirs. But, in spite of everything, my idea of the perfect evening is this: I am completely alone; my housekeeper has just put the hens in their coop and gone home, and I am left with my pipe, my dog nestled between my legs, the sound of the mice in the attic, a crackling fire, no newspapers, no books, a bottle of red wine warming slowly on the hearth.
—From Fire in the Blood, a novella by Irène Némirovsky, translated from the French by Sandra Smith (Knopf hardcover, 2007; Vintage paperback, 2008). Originally published in Paris, France, as Chaleur du sang by Denoël in 2007.
Now I am a mother and a married woman, but not long ago I led a life of crime. My brother and I had been orphaned. Somehow that justified everything.
—From A Little Lumpen Novelita, a novella by Roberto Bolaño, translated from the Spanish by Natasha Wimmer (New Directions, 2014). Originally published by Mondadori as Una novelita lumpen in 2002.
He opened Poets and Painters to the classifieds. "Look here," he said, handing me my reading glasses. The right lens was greasy with chocolate wax. I soldiered on. This too is marriage.
—From "My Husband Told Me to Write a Story," a story by Marcie Malone, Fiction Attic (December 17, 2025).
Finnish mothers get given a baby box by the state, and it's great. You get clothes, blankets, diapers, condoms . . . / and the box doubles as a safe bed for your baby. / Since the 1970s, the state has also given you a poster to remind parents to smile through the pain.
—From Single Mothering, a graphic novel by Anna Härmälä (Nobrow, an imprint of Flying Eye Books Ltd., London, 2024). I know this isn't the focus of the book, but there are some notable differences between having a baby in Finland vs. the US, as evidenced in this segment (from page 47), where Mia is given a box of supplies.
At the rear of the shop, down a dim hallway, was a studio where the manager lived with his wife, separated from the kitchen only by a curtain of wooden beads. They had worked for my grandparents for as long as LaLa could remember. I was introduced to them the way we were to all adults: "ShuShu" for men and "Ayi" for women. I never knew their real names.
—From Where Are You Really From, a collection of six short stories and a novella by Elaine Hsieh Chou (Penguin Press, 2025). I listened to the audiobook, which was narrated by Joel de la Fuente, Imani Jade Powers, Katharine Chin, and Natalie Naudus. This segment, which appears on page 7, is from "Carrot Legs," which was previously published (in a slightly different form) in Guernica.