by Cynan Jones
from the May 6, 2024 issue of The New Yorker

I have heard a lot of good things about Cynan Jones’s work. I have a copy of his 2016 novel Cove, but I’m afraid I haven’t read it yet. That year was also when we got a piece of fiction in The New Yorker from Cynan Jones, so if you like “Pulse” you can go and read “The Edge of the Shoal” from the October 17, 2016 issue (and you can read response from some Mookse and Gripes folks here).

Here is how “Pulse” begins:

He footed off his shoes, the logs balanced on an arm, and tugged the door shut. Behind him the rain slanted into the open porch in tight, rattling crescendos. Pulsed with the crashing wind.

It’s foul out there, he called, but she wasn’t in the main room.

He saw the signs of water ingress in the planks below the cabin windows. A wet stain that caught the light.

I’m anxious to keep my momentum with these short stories, so I’ll hopefully get some of my thoughts up in the comments below soon. In the meantime, please feel free to share your thoughts!

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