“Now that he had left the Northwest for good, he thought of that shore country often. He started on Route 101 and swam north in his mind, following the gray surf past the privately owned peninsulas to the white rocky coast of Tacoma, where Berryman, tequila-drunk, once leapt from the deck of Kingfishers, going for a gull into the Sound. Then past Seattle, the islands, across the border past Vancouver, into the vast, petroleum emptiness of Horseshoe Bay.” 

—From Christopher Howard’s dazzling new short story collection The Prince of the World (Seven Stories Press, January 8)



Published: January 2013

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