This is The Writer's Voice, new fiction from The New Yorker. I'm Deborah Treasman,

fiction editor at The New Yorker. On this week's episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear

Hon Ong read his story Ming from the January 20th, 2025 issue of the magazine.

The recipient of a MacArthur Fellowship and the Berlin Prize, Ong is the author of more than a dozen plays and two novels, Fixir Chow and The Disinherited.

Now here's Han Ong.

Ming.

Thaddeus had never offered to take Johnny Mac out for a meal before.

This is new, Johnny Mac says, grinning.

For 25 years, Johnny Mac worked as a tenant rights lawyer.

He is a fount of varied and surprising knowledge. Thaddeus orders a burger, fries, and a Coke, just like Johnny Mack. Remember around 2015, 2016, when I was poet in residence at NYU Langone?

Thaddeus asks, the Cancer Ward, a section of the Cancer Ward.

Johnny Max smiles.

Not firsthand, but I've heard from the others.

This is Thad with the 101 stories about cancer.

What others?

Who have you been talking to? Ed? Johnny Mack says.

Liddell? Ed is dead now. Has been dead for three years. Liddell, who knows where he is. He disappeared

from the meetings around 2018. Rumor has it that he took classes in coding and is now working for

Google out in California.

What could they have said? I never told them much. They were just wording to the wise,

since you're not a ray of sunshine, even without cancer. Don't let Thad bring up the cancer word.

So, what happened in 15, 16? Thaddeus ignores this news about his unwelcome talk.

...