Safine lay awake and wondered what Ojciec would be like, whether three bodies in space would disrupt the natural harmony that two created. When she looked at Matka, she could see she was awake, too. She wondered if she had the same worries. Morning lighted the windows, brought the clean but bare grayness of the room into focus, bunks full of Poles and other immigrants. Each bed was a breathing cell connected to its partners, in and out, and in a few hours, minutes, this vast system, this superhuman that sailed from Europe would be broken into little pieces, reassembling with others at factories, city blocks, places of worship. It overwhelmed, ached Safine to see the world in full, and when she opened her mouth to try and articulate the wonders of the world, she closed it, gauging her mother’s hard eyes, their drawn corners, the single-minded concentration of zeroing in on one cell in the sovereign city.To read more of part 3, go here:
“Jen Michalski’s second novel is an intense emotional commitment, but a worthwhile one.” – Ploughshares
“Jen is an astonishingly sensitive writer.” – HTML Giant
“Jen Michalski excels in subtlety that is made possible by her nuanced understanding of voice.” – The Rumpus
“Jen is a writerly heavyweight.” – Nate Brown, American Short Fiction
“We’re lucky to have Michalski before the rest of the world discovers her. But they will.” – Baltimore City Paper
7/3/13: Deleted scene from the Tide King, Part 3
here and part 2 here.