“In this stunning excerpt of her in-progress novel, Simi Singh shows us that the best writing is not just about storytelling, but instead it is a deconstruction of what came before, an interrogation of one’s artistic inheritance, and a radical re-centering of tradition. Here, Singh places the artistic repertoire of fiction in the service of critique and metacriticism, offering an ambitious treatise on contemporary literature and its discontents. However, unlike most critical texts, which rarely showcase the beauty of language and lived experience, Singh’s novel excerpt is alive with evocative sensory details, incredible lyricism, and deftly crafted scenes. Singh’s debut novel, An Agreement of Wonder, is going to be extraordinary, and she is a necessary voice in international fiction.”
-Kristina Marie Darling
If Cookie Lyon found Jesus, she would be Pat Smith. Not really, Pat’s a steel Magnolia. I’ve never heard Pat utter a curse word or manipulate anyone, but what is it about her, like the fictional character, Cookie, that dazzles and slays? Why is Oprah taking note? Pat has a heart and tenacity, with impeccable manners, unlike I have seen in all my travels. She is a rare gem. As a mother to five children, who are now in school and college during the day, Pat is ready to expand her own Empire and live her career dreams.
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Ten days in Bali, and I am sick of the sunshine and green juice. I love the delicate cucumber and earthy spinach taste with a side of dirt. My hormonal changes decided to unpack themselves here before my yoga pants, so I am trying to have compassion for my perceptions in a trough of no estrogen.
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He could be my son: the oval face; the close-set dark eyes; the curly black hair; tall and lanky. My son was born in 1993, same as the Boston Bomber suspect. As a mother of a swarthy young man, I’m always vigilant about the similarities in appearance of a terrorism suspect, so that when I see virulent Facebook posts that call for an eye for an eye from people in my hometown, my heart aches. An extra layer is always added to the horror of the initial incident.
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When I was eight months old, my father left India and boarded a plane to the United States with two dollars in his pockets and the weight of his family's destiny. He was wearing a suit with a red tie that matched his turban. He left his wife and three daughters behind, promising we would reunite some day.
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In 2004, Salman Khan began tutoring his seventh grader cousin in math over the internet. The former hedge fund manager, MIT graduate, and Harvard MBA, then began recording lessons and uploading them onto the newly created YouTube from his Palo Alto closet. Along with dancing babies and cute kittens, Khan’s tutorials gained a substantial following and grew into the highly regarded not-for-profit Khan Academy “with the goal of providing a free world-class education for anyone anywhere.”
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The Sikhs gunned down today in Wisconsin could have been my parents. Besides my mother being the founder and president of every organization she can think of to organize and be president of, she is also a founding member of her Sikh gurudwara in Virginia. This is a story I wrote about how they first met and fell in love. I believe now more than ever we need to tell our stories.
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My sister emailed me her invitation to the White House to celebrate LGBT Pride. I had to take a pause. Never in my or my children’s lifetime would I ever have imagined that a sitting president would stand up and welcome her — that he would see her. I have issues with being seen...
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My parents had an arranged marriage. I can tell you the story about how they saw each other for the first time, in my sleep. I have heard it at every dinner party before the age of ten, and every road trip we have ever taken as a family. The details are always argued about.
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