This is the writer's voice, new fiction from the New Yorker. I'm Deborah Treisman, fiction

at the New Yorker.

On this episode of the writer's voice,

we'll hear David Means read his story,

Are You Experienced, from the October 21st, 2019

issue of the magazine. Means is the author of the novel Histopia and five story collections including the spot and instructions for a funeral which was published earlier this year

Now here's David Means which was published earlier this year.

Now here's David Means.

Are you experienced?

They dropped late in the morning and then sat for an hour, silently waiting for the kick in Billy's boarding house room,

the grove of aspen trees on the edge of the field

outside quivering in the summer breeze.

The house was situated along the old road to the beach, not much more than 10 miles from Lake Michigan.

Inside, she sat looking at the poster Billy attacked to the wall, a cartoon figure with a big leg

extended, presenting an oversized shoe and below the heel, the words keep on trucking.

She was waiting for it to move, which it did eventually,

dancing in a way that seemed remorseful, trying to lure her in

until it turned into an aberration that somehow meered Billy himself,

thinning out into a slim boy with a never-ending array of plans,

brilliant with his own energies, performing a little gyrating dance, the heavy shoes

falling away, becoming dainty little feet, because Billy did have small feet, the hand

waving at her to come on in to join the fun, the way you'd expect

...