Lydia Millet

You could almost call them a squad—sometimes as many as seven, when they all pitched in. They were reliable for plumbing, basic carpentry, minor electrical fixes, and digging holes. They liked to dig holes. They liked it a lot. Twice she’d ordered a bunch of seedlings for ...

He came to see me at my Atlanta office, after his move back to Plains. It was a slow afternoon and the day’s sessions were already over when the Secret Service men stepped into my foyer. I wasn’t expecting company; my first thought when I opened the door on them—with their ...

When I was in grade school in the late Seventies, all the other girls used to get together during recess to talk about which Charlie’s Angel they wanted to be. The überbabes tended to view themselves as Jills, flipping their hair back à la Farrah, while the submissive but ...

Animals don’t have it so good. It’s no secret. One thing’s clothes: you won’t see a goat browsing in Petites on Saturday afternoon. You won’t see a goat exercising her rights as a consumer. I’m not saying they can help it, I’m just saying it bugs me. I mean it just ...