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

Elizabeth Strout Reads "Motherless Child"

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

The New Yorker

Arts, Yorker, New, Newyorker, Fiction, Authors

4.32.3K Ratings

🗓️ 30 July 2019

⏱️ 49 minutes

🧾️ Download transcript

Summary

Elizabeth Strout reads her story from the August 5 & 12, 2019, issue of the magazine. Strout is the author of six books of fiction, including "My Name Is Lucy Barton" and "Olive Kitteridge," which won the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. A new book, "Olive, Again," will be published in October. 

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Transcript

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0:00.0

This is The Writer's Voice, new fiction from The New Yorker. I'm Deborah Treasman,

0:12.1

fiction editor at The New Yorker. On this episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear Elizabeth Strout

0:17.3

read her story, Motherless Child, from the August 5th and 12th, 2019

0:21.5

issue of the magazine.

0:23.8

Stroud is the author of six books of fiction, including My Name is Lucy Barton and Olive

0:28.4

Kittridge, which won the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

0:32.3

A new book, Olive Again, will be published in October.

0:36.2

Now here's Elizabeth Strout.

0:39.6

Motherless Child. They were late. All of Kittridge hated people who were late.

0:46.9

A little after lunchtime, they had said, and Olive had the lunch things out, peanut butter

0:52.2

and jelly for the two oldest kids, and tuna fish sandwiches

0:55.6

for her son, Christopher, and his wife, Anne. For the little ones, she had no idea. The baby was

1:02.9

only six weeks old and wouldn't be eating anything solid yet. Little Henry was over two,

1:08.4

but what did two-year-olds eat? Olive couldn't remember what Christopher had eaten when he was that age.

1:14.4

The phone rang, and Olive quickly answered it.

1:17.8

Christopher said,

1:19.1

Okay, Mom, we're just leaving Portland. We had to stop for lunch.

1:23.2

Lunch, Olive said.

1:25.1

It was two o'clock in the afternoon.

2:02.2

Through the window, the late April sun was milky over the bay, "'which shone with a steely lightness. "'No white caps to-day. "'We had to get something for the kids to eat, "'so we'll be there soon.' "'Portland was an hour away.' "'Auliffe said, "'Okay, then? "'Will you still be needing supper?' "'Supper,' Christopher asked, "'as though she had proposed "'that they take a shuttle to the moon. "'Sure, I guess so.' "'In the background, Olive heard a scream. "'Christopher said, "'Anabel, shut up. "'Stop it it right now. Annabel, I'm counting to three.

2:06.0

Mom, I'll have to call you back. And the phone went dead.

2:13.4

Oh, Godfrey, Olive murmured, sitting down at the kitchen table. She hadn't yet taken the pictures off the wall, but the place looked remarkably different, as though, as was the case, she would be

...

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