Review of a short story from the Nov. 25, 2019 issue of The New Yorker... This story is so multi-layered and complex that I did something I rarely do with short stories in The New Yorker : I read it twice. I'm a firm believer that if a story truly "works" on it's own, you should be able to feel it's full impact (whatever that is) on the first reading. Not that we shouldn't go back and re-read things, or even study them in-depth, but I feel like no writer should be so pretentious or disrespectful of their readers' time as to assume the reader will go back and re-read or study the work in order to find the "deeper" meaning or "get it." On the other hand, sometimes a story is packed with so much meaning and texture that it simply demands to be read again. Such is the case with "Arizona," by John Edgar Wideman. This story is written in the form of a letter to Freddie Jackson (yes, Michael Jackson's brother) but is really
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