A Death in the Afternoon | The New Yorker

What stands out in Ernest Hemingway’s short stories is their humanity, their feeling for human fragility.Photograph by Lloyd Arnold / Hulton Archive / Getty
What stands out in Ernest Hemingway’s short stories is their humanity, their feeling for human fragility.Photograph by Lloyd Arnold / Hulton Archive / Getty

A Death in the Afternoon, By Tobias Wolff, February 20, 2021

On July 2, 1961, I was sitting in the parking lot at Convair Astronautics in San Diego, listening to music on the car radio while my older brother, Geoffrey, interviewed for a job with the company. Our father had been working there, but had suffered a breakdown and was hospitalized. Now it had fallen on Geoffrey, just graduated from Princeton, to support us for the next couple of months, until he moved on to a teaching post in Turkey and I began my new life at a boarding school in Pennsylvania. I had just turned sixteen and was largely uneducated, and Geoffrey had taken it upon himself to prepare me for the academic rigors of my new school. So he was applying to fill the vacancy left by our father.

Source: A Death in the Afternoon | The New Yorker

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