Lauren Groff Reads “Dogs Go Wolf”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
The New Yorker
4.3 • 2.3K Ratings
🗓️ 22 August 2017
⏱️ 37 minutes
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Summary
What the storm had erased was the silence from the other cabin. For hours, there had been no laughing, no bottle caps falling, none of the bickering that the girls had grown used to over the past two days. This was because there were no more adults. They’d been left alone on the island, the two little girls. Four and seven.
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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 Treasman, fiction editor at The New Yorker. |
| 0:12.0 | On this episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear Lauren Groff read her story, Dogs Go Wolf, from the August 28th, 2017 issue of the magazine. |
| 0:26.5 | Groff is the author of the story collection Delicate Edible Birds and three novels, including Arcadia, which was published in 2012, and Fates and Furies, which came out in 2015. |
| 0:32.9 | Now here's Lauren Groff. |
| 0:35.8 | Dogs Go Wolf. |
| 0:38.2 | The storm came and erased the quiet. |
| 0:42.2 | Well, the older sister thought, an island is never really quiet. |
| 0:47.6 | Even without the storm, there were waves and wind and air conditioners and generators |
| 0:52.6 | and animals moving out there in the dark. |
| 0:57.1 | What the storm had erased was the silence from the other cabin. |
| 1:01.7 | For hours, there had been no laughing, no bottle caps falling, |
| 1:06.5 | none of the bickering that the girls had grown used to over the past two days. |
| 1:11.6 | This was because there were no more adults. |
| 1:15.0 | They've been left alone on the island, the two little girls. |
| 1:19.0 | Four and seven. |
| 1:21.1 | Pretty little things, strangers called them what dolls? |
| 1:25.1 | Their faces were exactly like their mothers. |
| 1:29.4 | Hoosies in waiting, the mother joked, but she watched them anxiously from the corner of her eye. She was a good mother. |
| 1:36.7 | The fluffy white dog had at least stopped his yelling. He had crept close to the girl's bed, |
| 1:42.9 | but when they tried to stroke him, he snapped at their hands. |
| 1:46.4 | The animal was torn between his hatred of children and his hatred of the wild storm outside. |
... |
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