Jul 1, 2025 · 49 min · 16 segments
Souvankham Thammavongsa joins Deborah Treisman to read and discuss “The Size of Things,” by Samanta Schweblin (translated, from the Spanish, by Megan McDowell), which was published in The New Yorker…
Deborah TreismanHostNo entities detected.
I knew that Enrique Duvall had inherited a lot of money, and also that though he was sometimes spotted with women, he still lived with his mother.
On Sundays, he cruised around the plaza in his convertible, self-absorbed, never looking at or greeting any of his neighbors, and then he'd disappear until the following weekend.
I'd kept the toy store I'd inherited from my father, and one day I caught Duvall in the street peering dubiously in through the display window of my shop.
I mentioned this to Mirta, my wife, who said that maybe I'd got him confused with someone else.
Yes, on some afternoons, Duvall stood outside the toy store for a while, looking in through the window.
The first time he came inside, he seemed irresolute, as though he were ashamed and not at all sure what he was looking for.
He played with his car keys for a bit, and finally he asked for a model plane kit.
Then he came inside and asked for the next model plane in the series.
One night, I went outside to close the store's shutters, and there he was, alone in front of the window.
It took me a minute to recognize him, to understand that this trembling man with a red face and weepy eyes could really be Enrique Duvall.
I didn't see his car, and for a moment I thought it had been stolen.
"Here? What about your mother?" I instantly regretted my question, afraid I'd offended him, but he said, "She locked herself in the house with all the keys.
I knew that Enrique Duvall had inherited a lot of money, and also that though he was sometimes spotted with women, he still lived with his mother.
On Sundays, he cruised around the plaza in his convertible, self-absorbed, never looking at or greeting any of his neighbors, and then he'd disappear until the following weekend.
I'd kept the toy store I'd inherited from my father, and one day I caught Duvall in the street peering dubiously in through the display window of my shop.
I mentioned this to Mirta, my wife, who said that maybe I'd got him confused with someone else.
Yes, on some afternoons, Duvall stood outside the toy store for a while, looking in through the window.
The first time he came inside, he seemed irresolute, as though he were ashamed and not at all sure what he was looking for.
He played with his car keys for a bit, and finally he asked for a model plane kit.
Then he came inside and asked for the next model plane in the series.
One night, I went outside to close the store's shutters, and there he was, alone in front of the window.
It took me a minute to recognize him, to understand that this trembling man with a red face and weepy eyes could really be Enrique Duvall.
I didn't see his car, and for a moment I thought it had been stolen.
"Here? What about your mother?" I instantly regretted my question, afraid I'd offended him, but he said, "She locked herself in the house with all the keys.
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