A conversation with Terese Svoboda about her latest book, Hitler and My Mother in Law, and how writing through uncertainty and using humor to face the unbearable truths history leaves behind.

“His face was haggard, scattered with gray stubble and damp with sweat. In the air between them was the musky odor of bourbon. “I am weary with my moaning,” he moaned. “All night I make my bed swim.” He looked at her, and even as she looked away, Kate was sure his gaze was lingering on her breasts.”

“In high school and college, Uma Shastri was good at math and economics because she studied hard. But with a field hockey stick or a tennis racquet in her hand, her body slid to all the right places without conscious thought.”

“Even if it’s just a small piece of me, it’s good practice for the trillions of years yet to pass in which I will not exist.”

“Born with so much blackness, I spent my life adjusting / puffy eyes to a new light, missing her darkness”

“One thing I like about the Aliens series is the fact of its many, many, pregnant men.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“under tables with green fire. / we are thinking / who's the child”

“One of us remembers the honeyed ink / in the waiting womb…”