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

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

On this episode of the writer's voice, we'll hear David Gilbert read his story, The Sightseers,

from the November 20th, 2017 issue of the magazine. Gilbert is the author of the story collection Remote Feed

and two novels, and Sons and the Normals.

Now here's David Gilbert.

The Sitesiers

While Paulette was getting ready upstairs, Robert took charge of dinner, which entailed

pouring the sparkling water and calling for the children, after which Kiki appeared with the

halibut and Brussels sprouts, spinach salad on the side.

Looks delicious, Robert said, placing his phone face down on the table and then interlacing

his fingers, as though this public denial of electronics were commensurate with saying grace.

Right, guys?

Thank you, Kiki, Lana said. Thanks Kiki, Friedrich said. Yes,

thanks, Robert concluded, with a warm conspiratorial smile. Kiki, whom he paid on the books, Kiki from Tibet.

My goodness, the calm essence of those people, the work ethic. Plus, she happened to be an

excellent cook, almost better than Chef Gary. Where you going tonight? Lana asked. The Harrisons,

Robert said. Will Flip be there? I suppose so. Lana disappeared into her shoulders, her body nowadays like an overcoat,

the wind and the rain kicking up from across the table, the turmoils of seventh grade.

Over the past year she had bulked up, perfectly natural, the pediatrician had told Robert and

Paulette, rocket fuel for the coming

launch into puberty, though, just in case, Paulette had eliminated bread and dairy from her diet,

...