by Graham Swift
from the November 21, 2022 issue of The New Yorker

I have been really enjoying Graham Swift’s work over the past several years, and I’m glad we’re still getting regular stories and books from him.

One morning in April, their father, Ted Holdroyd, suddenly died and a few days afterward Annie and her older brother, Ian, both still a little dazed, went to see the minister who, as Annie put it, was going to “do” their father’s funeral. There was surely some better word than “do,” but Annie couldn’t, for the moment, think of it.

I hope you’re all having a nice November, easing into the end of the year. Please let me know what you thought of this story in the comments below.

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