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“Lu, Reshaping,” by Madeleine Thien | The New Yorker

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There were three pages to go, and it was already past midnight. Lu had asked her big daughter to edit her report for tomorrow’s Purchasing meeting. This daughter, who was eleven, excelled at things like that. “Mom,” the girl said, “why did you ask if a ghost hit the back of my head?” “Because you told your father I was home late, and I specifically told you not to do that. So why did you? Did a ghost hit the back of your head?” Madeleine Thien on immigrants’ loneliness. “Oh, ha.” By signing up, you agree to our User Agreement and Privacy Policy & Cookie Statement. This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply. They were whispering back and forth in two languages, the girl in English and Lu in Cantonese. Tomorrow was a school day, and Lu could guess what Husband would say if he woke up and found them still working. The girl yawned and made further corrections to the page. “This part here, where you say ten teapots and nine lids? That’s funn

Save this story Save this story Listen to this story Audio: Madeleine Thien reads. There were three pages to go, and it was already past midnight. Lu had asked her big daughter to edit her report for tomorrow’s Purchasing meeting. This daughter, who was eleven, excelled at things like that. “Mom,” the girl said, “why did you ask if a ghost hit the back of my head?” “Because you told your father I was home late, and I specifically told you not to do that. So why did you? Did a ghost hit the back of your head?” Madeleine Thien on immigrants’ loneliness. “Oh, ha.” They were whispering back and fo

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