Excerpt from Weather by Jenny Offill, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

But sometimes Eli cries if he's left in that loud scrum of people. He doesn't like having to walk alone from one side of that huge cafeteria to the other. Once he froze in the middle until some aide grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him toward his corner.

So today we make a run for it and dart past her to his assigned assembly point. His friend is at the table and has animal crackers, so I make it out of there without tears, but not before the bullhorn woman screams at me. "No parents! No parents may accompany their children!"

God, she loves that bullhorn. Something shoots through my body at the sound of her voice, then I'm out on the street again, telling myself not to think.

I'm not allowed to think about how big this school is or how small he is. I've made that mistake after other drop-offs. I should be used to it by now, but sometimes I get spooked all over again.

…

All day long cranky professors. I swear the ones with tenure are the crankiest. They will cut past other people in line to check out a book or set up their hold list. Studies have shown that 94% of college professors think that they do above average work.

They gave us a guide the other day. Tips for Dealing with Problem Patrons. The professors weren't mentioned. There were the following categories.

Malodorous
Humming
Laughing
Defacing
Laundering
Combative
Chattering
Lonely
Coughing

But how to categorize this elderly gentleman who keeps asking me to give him the password for his own email? I try to explain that it is not possible for me to know this, that only he knows this, but he just shakes his head in that indignant way that means, What kind of help desk is this?

…

There's a poster of Sylvia at the bus stop. It says she's coming to give a talk on campus. Years ago, I was her grad student, but then I gave up on it. She used to check in on me sometimes to see if I was still squandering my promise. The answer was always yes. Finally, she pulled some strings to get me this job even though I don't have a proper degree for it.

On the way home, I listen to her new podcast. This episode is called "The Center Cannot Hold." They could all be called that. But Sylvia's voice is almost worth the uptick in dread. It's soothing to me even though she talks only of the invisible horsemen galloping toward us.

There are recognizable patterns of ascent and decline. But our industrial civilization is so vast, it has such reach ...

I look out the window. Something in the distance, limping toward the trees.

…

The door opens and Eli hurls himself at me. I help him peel some rubber cement off his hands, then he goes back to his game. This is the one that everyone likes. It is a 3-D procedurally generated world, according to my husband. Educational.

It's fun to watch them play. They put together buildings block by block, then fill the rooms with minerals that they have mined with pickaxes they have made. They assemble green fields and raise chickens to eat. "I killed one!" Eli yells. "It's almost night," Ben tells him.

There are bills and supermarket flyers. Also a magazine addressed to a former tenant. The cover promises tips for helping depressive people.

What to say:

I'm sorry that you're in so much pain. I am not going to leave you. I am going to take care of myself, so you don't need to worry that your pain might hurt me.

What not to say:

Have you tried chamomile tea?

Excerpted from Weather by Jenny Offill. Copyright © 2020 by Jenny Offill. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.