This is The Author's Voice, New Fiction from The New Yorker.

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

On this episode of The Author's Voice, we'll hear Paul Theroux read his story,

Upside Down Cake from the June 27, 2016 issue of the magazine. Theroux has written more

than 50 books of fiction and nonfiction, including the Mosquito Coast, the Great Railway

Bazaar, the Lower River, and Mr. Bones. His first story in The New Yorker was published in 1979.

Now here's Paul Theroux.

Upside down, cake.

Every visit to an aged parent is in the nature of a farewell.

When I got to save the date postcard for Mother's 90th, I thought, oh God. A birthday can seem like a kind of funeral.

Then I saw an opportunity and said yes, and made my arrangements, and looked forward to the event.

But the private function room at the Happy Clam was funereal, with bouquets and long faces, rose with her back turned,

Gilbert and Fred conferring, Franny fussing over her son jaunty. We all stood gaping and

glassy-eyed, as though we were about to bury mother. I had arrived on time resolved to see it

through. The spouses were rattled, Franny's husband Marvin, ill at ease out of his security guard

uniform, Fred's wife Irma, sighing and snatching at her hair.

Rose's husband Walter monkeying with a camera as a way of snubbing everyone else.

Jaunty's little girl, Jilly, was the center of attention. The adults shouting at her as

she ran back and forth. Run to Grandma, run to Grandma, Jonti called out. Jolie listened to me.

Mother recoiled as the child approached, then smiled slightly when Jilly tripped and fell. Jonti swept up Jilly who began howling.

I had a child named Angela, mother said.

She died.

...