Many of the writers are women. Margaret Atwood posits it is time to update the gender of werewolf narratives. Aminatta Forna shatters the silences which supposedly ensured her safety as a woman of color walking in public space. Power must often be seized. The narrator of Lan Samantha Chang’s short story finally wrenches control of the family’s finances from her husband only to make a fatal mistake. Meanwhile the hero of Tahmima Anam’s story achieves freedom by selling bull semen. Australian novelist Josephine Rowe recalls a gallery attendee trying to take what was not offered when she worked as a life-drawing model. Violence often results from power imbalances—Booker Prize winner Ben Okri watches power stripped from the residents of Grenfell Tower by ferocious neglect. But not all power must wreak damage. Barry Lopez remembers fourteen glimpses of power, from the moment he hitched a ride on a cargo plan in Korea to the glare he received from a bear traveling with her cubs in the woods, asking—do you plan me harm?
Featuring work from brand new writers Nicole Im, Jaime Cortez, and Nimmi Gowrinathan, as well as from some of the world’s best storytellers, including US poet laureate Tracy K. Smith, Franco-Moroccan writer Leïla Slimani, and Turkish novelist Elif Shafak, Freeman’s: Power escapes from the headlines of today and burrows into the heart of the issue.
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“When sharks fuck, they bleed. At least, the females do. To show their interest, male sharks bite female sharks in various places, and once mating begins, they bite the female’s pectoral fins in order to keep her in place.”—Nicole Im, “On Sharks and Suicide”
“At first, I don’t understand why it is news that a man who has a woman doing all his housework is finding himself productive. But then I think, maybe this is progress. Maybe what is news is that now we are calling this domination, when we used to just call it marriage.”—Eula Biss, “Service”
“There was something running from my eyes, but it definitely wasn’t tears. Somehow, they didn’t deserve to be called tears. Whatever it was, they were stickier than tears, and gave off a strong smell. And anyway, I certainly wasn’t crying.”—Kanako Nishi, “Burn,” translated from the Japanese by Allison Markin Powell
“I came up with names for things that didn’t exist until they existed. The world is made of strangers, of odd parts and simple objects that strive to be in a space, to be gathered into a whole, like words, like sentences.”—Aleksandar Hemon, “Histories”