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The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker

Bryan Washington Reads “Foster”

The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker

The New Yorker

Newyorker, New, Authors, Fiction, Yorker, Arts

4.32.3K Ratings

🗓️ 8 June 2021

⏱️ 43 minutes

🧾️ Download transcript

Summary

Bryan Washington reads his story from the June 14, 2021, issue of the magazine. Washington is a winner of the Ernest J. Gaines award, the International Dylan Thomas Prize, and the Lambda Literary award. His story collection, “Lot,” was published in 2019, and his novel, “Memorial,” came out in 2020.

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Transcript

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0:00.0

This is the writer's voice, new fiction from The New Yorker.

0:09.0

I'm Deborah Treesman, fiction editor at The New Yorker.

0:12.0

On this episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear Brian Washington read his story, Foster, from the June 14th, 2021 issue of the magazine.

0:20.0

Washington is a winner of the Ernest J. Gaines Award,

0:23.5

the International Dylan Thomas Prize,

0:25.8

and the Lambda Literary Award.

0:28.1

His story collection lot was published in 2019,

0:31.1

and his novel Memorial came out in 2020.

0:34.6

Now here's Brian Washington.

0:42.3

Foster.

0:47.3

He isn't any kind of cat that I've ever seen.

0:51.3

The paws look like something out of his storybook, and his fur shines in IKEA bag blue. Some Googling tells me this means he is a

0:56.4

short hair, maybe, but my older brother's letter just called him a stray. You have that in

1:03.7

common, my brother wrote. It'll give you two something to talk about, he wrote. So that's what I think of him as.

1:12.9

A fucking stray.

1:16.1

A woman I can't responsibly call my brother's girlfriend

1:19.1

dropped the cat off at my apartment in Montrose.

1:22.4

Literally tossed him on the sidewalk.

1:25.1

She didn't wait for me to stumble outside before she drove off. There was a crumpled

1:29.5

note, along with a food dispenser, and then this cat in his box. I let him stew there while

1:36.3

I hauled everything into my place, folding myself into the sofa to squint at my brother's

1:41.1

cursive. We were born four years apart. Hadn't spoken in six. He'd been

...

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