“Wednesday’s Child”
by Yiyun Li
from the January 23, 2023 issue of The New Yorker

This story is clearly destined to have some woe. I love Yiyun Li’s work, though I haven’t read as much of it as I’d like. I keep thinking it’s time to sit down and get everything collected and just go through it all. That likely won’t happen soon, but I’m glad to have this chance to dip into her work again.

Here is how this week’s story begins:

The difficulty with waiting, Rosalie thought, is that one can rarely wait in absolute stillness. Absolute stillness?—that part of herself, which was in the habit of questioning her own thoughts as they occurred, raised a mental eyebrow. No one waits in absolute stillness; absolute stillness is death; and when you’re dead you no longer wait for anything. No, not death, Rosalie clarified, but stillness, like hibernation or estivation, waiting for . . . Before she could embellish the thought with some garden-variety clichés, the monitor nearby rolled out a schedule change: the 11:35 train to Brussels Midi was cancelled.

Please feel welcome to comment below. Did you like the story? Do you like Li’s work? I hope all is going well with you!


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