This is the writer's voice, new fiction from the New Yorker. I'm Deborah

Treisman fiction at the New Yorker. On this episode of the writer's voice, we'll hear

Fiona McFarland read her story demolition from the May 25th 2020 issue of

the magazine. McFarland is the author of a novel The Night Guest and a story collection, The High Places,

which was awarded the International Dylan Thomas Prize in 2017.

Now here's Fiona McFarland.

Demolition.

Demolition.

The bigger house is coming down, Gerald said.

Finally, he took the tray from Eva's lap.

That lovely house, Eva said. With a finger Gerald lifted one slat of the horizontal blinds. He held

the tray in his other hand and peered out the window. What's lovely about it, he said, and the tray tilted.

Gerald Eva called, and he wrided the tray without looking at her.

The Japanese maple with the crimson leaves. They dug it up already, Gerald said.

With a fortune, a tree like that.

Eva wheeled herself to the window.

I'll pull the lines, Gerald said,

but he went away first, into the kitchen with the tray and until he came back

She studied the dust on the edges of the blinds the very thin rim of it

But who could fault Gerald who was tremendous with their housework and had said,

what's wrong with curtains? Blinds alone the catch the dust, and still let her have them installed.

Now he came back and leaned over the couch the way you had to and fiddled with the strings

...