Just a quick link to a “creative nonfiction” piece in this quarter’s World Literature Review magazine.
Here is that link:
Our protagonist is ostensibly chatting to a gentleman at a party, but her mind is a million miles away: apparently knee-deep in white guilt and self-doubt over her parents’ roles in pre-94 South Africa.
Sheesh. I know, right?
I don’t want to give away the ending, but I do want to say that one of the photographs illustrating the piece is – in my humble opinion, at least – rather good.