Susan Sterling


There used to be a restaurant in Waterville called “The Silent Woman.” Its sign depicted jolly men raising their glasses at a plank-like table. Behind them, carrying a serving tray, hovered a buxom woman with no head. The restaurant advertised in the back of The New Yorker. “Someday,” read the ad, “you will find yourself in Waterville, Maine.”

The text proved prescient.


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