Lionel Shriver’s “Kilifi Creek”

From The New Yorker's archive: a short story about a young woman's harrowing near-death experience while on vacation in Kenya.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences     Fiction "Kilifi Creek" "It was a class of moments that most adults stockpile: the times they almost died." By Lionel Shriver The novelist and journalist Lionel Shriver shrewdly plumbs the depths of the American psyche. The author of eighteen books, Shriver won the Orange Prize for Fiction, in 2005, for her novel "We Need to Talk About Kevin," which was later adapted into a critically acclaimed film starring Tilda Swinton. In 2013, Shriver published "Kilifi Creek," a short story about a young woman's harrowing near-death experience while on vacation in Kenya. Shriver follows her entitled protagonist as she takes advantage of an older couple's reluctant hospitality, enjoining them to indulge her capricious whims. One day, she decides to go for a late-afternoon swim, and events don't proceed quite as planned. "Liana continued to the right, making damned sure to swim out far enough so that she was in no danger of hitting another rock. Still, the cut had left her rattled," Shriver writes. "Her idyll had been violated. No longer gentle and welcoming, the shoreline shadows undulated with a hint of menace. The creek had bitten her." The novelist skillfully builds a quiet, foreboding tension as the story unfolds. It's a thriller of sorts, yet it's also a slow burn, allowing for the protagonist's attenuated unravelling as her predicament becomes clear. Nature is the one thing that we can't persuade or cajole; its mercilessness crystalizes every aspect of our senses. When Liana's ordeal finally ends, she is transformed—a diminished version of herself, both here and not here. Shriver ruminates on those pivotal moments when we shift from callow youthfulness to imperfect maturity, asking us to consider the nebulous distance between them. She presents us with a fable about an attempted escape, only to jolt us out of our expectations as the tale builds to an intriguing climax.   —Erin Overbey, archive editor More from the Archive     Profiles Lionel Shriver Is Looking for Trouble From 2020: The author's contrarianism has made her famous, but fiction is what she believes changes minds. By Ariel Levy     Fiction "The Man in the Woods" First Published in 2014: "Christopher had come into the forest at a crossroads, turning onto the forest road as though he had a choice, looking back once to see the other road, the one he had not chosen." By Shirley Jackson You're receiving this e-mail because you signed up for the New Yorker Classics newsletter. Was this e-mail forwarded to you? Sign up.   Unsubscribe | Manage your e-mail preferences | Send newsletter feedback | View our privacy policy    The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products and services that are purchased through links in our newsletters as part of our affiliate partnerships with retailers.    Copyright © Condé Nast 2021. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.