Is this, then, the torture? Is this what they have cooked up to inflict on me? Other photos are plastered here and there the whole length of the street. From some of them, the message has been clawed off; from another, my eyes have been scratched out. The persons who mutilated the photo surely did so wishing they could gouge out my eyes in actuality. It is moreover probable that they would, if they could. They would do that and more. Who would prevent them? . . . Examples of this same photo are pasted or nailed everywhere: the stores, the restaurants, the banks, the bus stations, inside and out. They have been distributed throughout all the other cities.

  - Mohammed Chourki

Summer Issue, 1998

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The Literary Review: An International Journal of Contemporary Writing has been published quarterly by Fairleigh Dickinson University since 1957. Its many special issues have introduced new fiction, poetry, and essays from many nations, regions, or languages to English readers. Issues focus on such topics as contemporary Portugese literature, Iranian exiles, the Jewish diaspora, North African authors, and Russian women writers. Works from issues devoted to writing in English have won awards and been reprinted in many collections.

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