The story of my family. . .changes with the teller.

- Jennifer Haigh

The human heart: its expansions and contractions its electrics and hydraulics the warm tides that move and fill it. For years Art had studied it from…

- Jennifer Haigh

Writing fiction, like reading fiction, is a practice in empathy.

- Jennifer Haigh

That renunciation of human closeness, of our deepest instincts: is it, in the end, simply too much to ask? Good men-sound, healthy men-can't make the…

- Jennifer Haigh

I wanted only a familiar voice, someone who knew me. Not some earlier, larval version of myself. . .

- Jennifer Haigh

It was a lesson most people learned much earlier; that even friendship could have an undisclosed shelf life. That loyalty and affection, so consuming…

- Jennifer Haigh