The New Yorker

"A Refugee Crisis" by Callan Wink from The New Yorker


I lived in Livingston, Montana for two summers: 2006 and 2007. I loved it there. I worked a restaurant job, and had most of every day to myself to explore. I bought a book that described the 60 best hikes in the area, and would just flip to one and drive to the trailhead. I saw moose and bears and eagles almost daily. Sometimes I'd dip my feet in the always-cold Yellowstone River. 

So, to read Wink's story, which takes place in Livingston and mentions the bar attached to the restaurant I worked at, made me a bit homesick. The story itself feels a little "MFA" to me, but it's worth the read. I've never been able to talk about poetry within a poem, or the exercise of writing within a story. Wink pulls it off better than most.