Perhaps the most eye-catching was “Immigrant Girl from the End of the World” by Hannah Yang. […] More than anything, this story is a call to action even in the midst of circumstances that seem bleak—it’s the only antidote to apathy and despair.

The longing to reconnect with family is palpable in this all-too-real story. Also: magically migrating cities? Yes, please, let’s figure out how to make that happen.

It’s a tense but lovely story about this relationship and about the world facing its own annihilation, as people grapple with the illusion of control and the nature of humanity.

There’s a ton to admire about it on a craft level, but honestly what it boiled down to for me was that this is a story that Gets It about being an adult.

Every now and again, a short fiction author hits me with an opening line so striking I can’t stop thinking about it. Hannah Yang gave me one of those with “Now that I’ve failed as a woman, my punishment is to become a garden.” 

This one kicked me right in the chest. A woman is sentenced to transform into a garden because she “failed” to have children, and it’s just … it’s just really goddamn good. I was definitely threatening to Have Emotions, and Hannah Yang’s prose is, as always, direct and gorgeous.

That sense of strangeness and mystery is enough to easily sustain the tale’s scant 3,000 words, building to a finish with real emotional resonance and a sense of resolution that feels just perfect for the mystery at hand.

“Inheritance” by Hannah Yang is a beautifully constructed story about the relationship between a mother and daughter, told with snippets of memory. It had echoes of “The Truth of Fact, the Truth of Feeling” by Ted Chiang. As a father of two young children I’m extra susceptible to stories like this.

Some of the most terrifying horror I’ve ever read is a mere expansion of real-life phenomena. In this case: what happens when a mother’s love for her child goes too far?

I was so taken aback by this story when I read it for the first time that I immediately went back to the beginning to read it again. Yang packs a ton of weight into these 1,700 words. […] That and the ending, which comes as such a flash of light that the reader is momentarily blinded.

In true short story fashion: when you get to the end, you will want to read it again.

I remember gasping at the twist in this story, even though I knew something was coming. I remember the feeling of satisfaction at the main character’s final choice. I remember how this unlocked so many more possibilities about what “fantasy” could be. I owe a lot to Yang’s style, and I am excited to read more of her work.

If you are struggling with motherhood, especially in the past few crazy years, read this, and realize how far from alone we are.

“Eating Bitterness,” in which a mother swallows her family’s negative feelings with her second mouth, is Hannah Yang’s first foray into horror writing, and it’s a knockout debut. Beautifully innovative and horrifically poignant, this is one you just have to read.