The King Is Always Above the People. Daniel Alarcon

      

      

       Copyright

      4th Estate

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.4thEstate.co.uk

      This eBook first published in Great Britain by 4th Estate in 2018

      Copyright © 2017 Daniel Alarcón

      Cover design by Heike Schüssler

      Cover images © plainpicture/Mira/Conny Ekstrom

      Daniel Alarcón asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      The following stories have been published previously, in slightly different form: “The Thousands” (McSweeney’s); “The King Is Always Above the People,” “The Provincials,” and “The Bridge” (Granta); “Abraham Lincoln Has Been Shot” (Zoetrope); and “República and Grau” (The New Yorker).

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins

      Source ISBN: 9780007517367

      Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780007517374

      Version: 2018-01-02

       Praise for The King Is Always Above the People:

      ‘Alarcón is an empathic observer of the isolated human, whether isolated by emigration or ambition, blindness or loneliness, poverty or war. His stories have a reporter’s mix of kindness and detachment, and perhaps as a result, his endings land like a punch in the gut … His purpose isn’t to approve or condemn, or to liberate. He’s writing to show us other people’s lives, and in every case, it’s a pleasure to be shown’

       NPR

      ‘Superb … Throughout the collection, Alarcón writes with a spellbinding voice and creates a striking cast of characters. Each narrative lands masterfully and memorably, showcasing Alarcón’s immense talent’

       Publishers Weekly

      ‘Alarcón is a truly impressive writer’

       Boston Globe

      ‘Alarcón throws his characters into high-stakes situations to draw out humanity where it seems little hope is left’

       Washington Post

      ‘Polished and poetic’

       Vanity Fair

      ‘Elegant’

       San Francisco Chronicle

      ‘Smart, political and incredibly engaging … Alarcón introduces readers to countless unforgettable characters along the way’

       Nylon

      ‘Dynamic novelist and journalist Alarcón delivers a collection of loosely affiliated short stories, each buzzing and alive … Alarcón’s gift for generating real, tangible characters propels readers through his recognizable yet half-real worlds’

       Booklist

      ‘Showcases his talent as a master storyteller’

       Buzzfeed

       Dedication

       FOR THE THREAD™

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Praise for The King Is Always Above the People

      Dedication

      The Thousands

The Ballad of Rocky Rontal

The King Is always Above the People

Abraham Lincoln Has Been Shot

The Provincials

       Extinct Anatomies

       República and Grau

       The Bridge

       The Lord Rides a Swift Cloud

       The Auroras

       Acknowledgments

       About the Author

       Also by Daniel Alarcón

       About the Publisher

       THE THOUSANDS

      THERE WAS NO MOON that first night, and we spent it as we spent our days: your fathers and your mothers have always worked with their hands. We came in trucks, and cleared the land of rock and debris, working in the pale yellow glow of the headlights, deciding by touch and smell and taste that the land was good. We would raise our children here. Make a life here. Understand that not so long ago, this was nowhere. The land had no owner, and it had not yet been named. That first night, the darkness that surrounded us seemed infinite, and it would be false to say we were not afraid. Some had tried this before and failed—in other districts, on other fallow land. Some of us sang to stay awake. Others prayed for strength. It was a race, and we all knew it. The law was very clear: while these sorts of things were not technically legal, the government was not allowed to bulldoze homes.

      We had until morning to build them.

      The hours passed, and by dawn, the progress was undeniable, and with a little imagination one could see the bare outlines of the place this would become. There were tents made of tarps and sticks. There were mats of woven reeds topped with sewn-together rice sacks, and sheets of pressboard leaning against the scavenged hoods of old cars. Everything the city discarded we’d been saving for months in preparation for this first night. And we worked and we worked, and for good measure spent the last hours of that long night drawing roads on the earth, just lines of chalk then, but think of it, just think … We could see them—the avenues they would be—even if no one else could. By morning, it was all there, this ramshackle collection of odds and ends, and we couldn’t help but feel pride. When we finally stopped to rest, we realized we were cold, and on the soft slope of the hill, dozens of small fires were built, and we warmed ourselves, each taking comfort