We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article.
In Brando Skyhorse’s novel “My Name Is Iris” (Simon & Schuster), a Mexican-American woman confronts anti-immigrant prejudice in a dystopian society shaped by Silicon Valley technology, hate-driven violence, and a mysterious wall emerging from her own front yard.
Read an excerpt below.
“My Name Is Iris” by Brando Skyhorse
Prefer to listen? Audible has a 30-day free trial available right now.
After the funeral, two young girls, aged nine and seven, accompanied their grief-stricken mother back home. Though they were saddened by their father’s death, they didn’t have a deep attachment to him. He was an airline pilot, and both girls preferred it when he was away working. The girls had picked up on his own preference for being away. This happened in the 1970s, when air travel still carried a sense of glamour. Philip Lyons, the girls’ father, had flown 747s across the Atlantic for BOAC until he passed away from a heart attack, not in the air but rather while having breakfast in a hotel room in New York. The airline transported his body back home free of charge.
The girls’ attention was focused on their mother, Marlene, who was unable to cope with the loss. Throughout the funeral service, she didn’t shed a tear. She remained numb, huddled in her black Persian-lamb coat, small and delicate, wearing dark glasses and sporting muzzy liquorice-brown hair and red Sugar Date lipstick. The girls suspected that their mother had a vague understanding of the events taking place. It was January, with patches of snow scattered over the cold ground and the graves in a desolate cemetery in the Thames Valley. Marlene had never attended a funeral before, and the girls hadn’t either, but they quickly learned from television that dark glasses were appropriate attire for the graveside. They had rummaged through their mother’s drawers in search of sunglasses, which were now their territory, liberated from the possibility of their father ever returning home.
The reception after the funeral was scheduled to take place at their paternal grandmother’s home. Charlotte, the older daughter, could see the desperate pleading in her mother’s eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses. Marlene quickly and furtively whispered to Charlotte, “Oh no, I can’t. I can’t meet all those people.”
Excerpt from “After the Funeral and Other Stories” by Tessa Hadley, copyright 2023 by Tessa Hadley. Published by Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.
Get the book here:
“My Name Is Iris” by Brando Skyhorse
Buy locally from Bookshop.org
For more info:
Denial of responsibility! VigourTimes is an automatic aggregator of Global media. In each content, the hyperlink to the primary source is specified. All trademarks belong to their rightful owners, and all materials to their authors. For any complaint, please reach us at – [email protected]. We will take necessary action within 24 hours.
