this showed up in the mail from amanda one day, totally unexpectedly. i had mentioned wanting to read a certain book of short stories by her that someone else recommended to me. this is a novel that apparently has the same themes of lives of exiles and immigrants living in the us. at ﬁrst i couldn’t believe i was reading another totally non-linear novel, but halfway through i hit that point that not every book has. suddenly i couldn’t stop reading and was in danger of missing subway stops. the last half went so fast and then just ended—exactly how i’d been hoping it would end. i was so convinced it wouldn’t end in a way that would leave me satisﬁed that even though it ended how i was hoping it would, i still felt unsatisﬁed. so vague, but i’m not giving anything away. i’m so bad at ruining stories. and then i found The Middleman and Other Stories at the library today, somehow ﬁve or six copies have been hiding out away from the library since the summertime.