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 Yiyun Lee read her story, Hello, Goodbye,

from the November 15th, 2021 issue of the magazine.

Lee is the author of two story collections and four novels, including Where Reasons End and Must I Go,

which was published last year. She won the Wyndham Campbell Literature Prize in 2020.

Now here's Yian Lee.

Hello, goodbye.

Nina held between her hands baby-shaped air, her left hand supporting an unseen head,

heavy for the supple neck, her right hand patting.

She had read somewhere that an infant found it calming when the mother's patting matched her heartbeat. Guitar? Ethan guessed. Nina shook her head. She changed her position, so the baby would be

upright. She had recently begun to pay attention to mothers with infants. Burping? Katie said.

Nursing? Nina blinked twice and switched back. "'Burping?' Katie said. "'Nirthing?'

Nina blinked twice and switched back to rocking the air.

"'Baby?' Katie said.

"'Inphant?'

"'The second word might be easier.'

Nina waddled around the ottoman.

Doug? Ethan said. Duckling? Baby duckling? Katie said. Baby duckling. That's what I would call

redundancy, Ethan said. His voice had a grating quality, like sandpaper, but Katie didn't seem to notice.

Perhaps even the coarsest sandpaper would leave no damage on a night smoothed by drinks

and useful optimism, Nina thought.

...