In the waiting room as we checked into the hospital, his father sat next to my mother and I remember the image of him exactly: olive skin, broad face, and long shiny hair, his head held in his big hands as if it had cut loose from his body.

NPR: Excerpt: 'Warm Springs'

Before he could reply, I had reached his side and sat down on a lounge chair next to him, a striped one.

NEWYORKER: While the Women Are Sleeping