Excerpt from The New Earth by Jess Row, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Which was an odd phrasing, he thought at the time. Not my home or our home. What it did mean, absolutely, was what Naomi said when she'd packed the Subaru, filling every inch of the back with plants—most of the surviving plants from the front windowsill, in fact, some of which had been there for thirty years, growing rust rings around their bases, living on milky, striated apartment light, waves of radiator heat, and a baseline ambient degree of human pain. They'd probably had a slight anesthetic quality, these plants, the way the Northeastern US forests absorb carbon—not enough to make a difference, but a gesture, nonetheless.

Naomi said, "You know I'm not going to be back for a while."

"Yeah," he said, "I can tell."

"Simon's already circulating a rumor that Columbia's going to try to fire me. For moving the lab."

"Columbia can't fire you."

"I'm not saying they can," she said, "I'm saying they can see which way the wind is blowing, which for geophysicists is saying a lot."

And with that she gave him a good, substantial kiss, a schmack; passed a hand over his chest, patted him, as if to reassure herself that he still existed; and hopped into the driver's seat.

"Call me when you pass Hartford," he said.

"I'm not planning to stop," she said. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands now, staring straight ahead. "I'll call you when I get there".

Excerpted from The New Earth by Jess Row. Copyright © 2023 by Jess Row. Excerpted by permission of Ecco. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.