Nonfiction | June 01, 1992
This essay is not currently available online.
J. had gone to a meeting in Washington; I had begged off for once and was revelling in the quiet mornings at home, and the chance to work undisturbed on a novel I was writing. Then he telephoned to say he had forgotten to tell me that I would be getting a visit from someone named Yan Zhang, or Zhang Yan, who was coming to San Francisco, and could we put up this Yan Zhang for a couple days?
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?Subscribe Today
SEE THE ISSUE
Aug 19 2021
On Defeat and Diego
On Defeat and Diego Alexander Ramirez Once, while I was training at the Police Athletic League in Oak Park, Diego “Chico” Corrales walked into the gym holding a trophy half
Aug 19 2021
Oil Town Overture
Town Overture Dave Zoby At five AM I smell coffee through the floorboards. Carter only drinks organic. He set up his own kitchenette down there. I hear the clink of
Editors' Prize Winner
Jun 02 2021
Opera House By Robert Stothart Everything seemed married to everything else. —Gustave Baumann, printmaker, Santa Fe Overture A mere 7,918 miles in diameter, Earth, our home together, travels a minuscule