Jellyfish have eyes, but what do they see? Are they able to think? If so, what do they think about? Questions like these preoccupy government research scientist Ricardo Sztein following the death of his beloved wife, Lillian.

Haunted by his promise to find a cure for the disease that killed her, Ricardo heads for Puerto Rico. He knows medical relevance is the rule of the game, as well as Lillian’s final request, but cannot curb his curiosity about jellyfish.

Accidental discoveries can lead to breakthroughs, but government funds are scarce. Will Ricardo’s supervisors – and his conscience – allow him to pursue his research?

Available soon in English, Spanish, French & Portuguese from Adelaide Books. 

What confusions would result if life and death could overlap, blurring the distinction between the two states, or if we did drift too close to the species barrier? Notes Going Underground considers porous borders. An essay probes what’s alive; a dead man gives his own eulogy at his funeral; a living man believes he’s dead; a dead man acts as if he’s alive; and a man drowns in his dry jail cell when he imagines he’s a jellyfish.

The original drawings by Ismael Carrillo have been awarded the 2020 Communications Arts Award and the 2020 American Illustrations award.

Enter through the open door and eavesdrop when a shy lawyer and lonely secretary fantasize about each other, when yearning lingers in a little boy punished for talking in class, and when a young journalist picks love over career. Marvel when banning mirrors prevents an image shaping a presidency, and when a woman discovers that her fiancé has been compressed into a diamond.

Take a spin through this “brilliant and vibrant collection of stories that spans the breadth and diversity of literary fiction, from grave to funny to poignant and all points in-between. ” (Quote by James Mathews, Author of Last Known Position, Winner, Katherine Anne Porter Prize in Short Fiction)

Featuring original illustrations by Ismael Carrillo.

Before I knew anything about science, it loomed as mystery and beauty, a view that never completely left me during my almost 50-year career at the National Institutes of Health.

I pursued a career in science in part to enter my own realm; to step out from the shadow of my famous father and to meet the irrefutable expectation of excellence set forth by my mother, a high-achieving heiress to the Rothschild fortune and a vast collection of art. Straying from the well-trodden scientific career path to examine the eyes of jellyfish and other little-studied species, I learned that science, like music, had its poetic aspects, but it also required meticulous discipline.

I also learned that widely held beliefs about the nature of things could be refuted as new evidence floats into our field of vision under the lens of a microscope. Keeping our eyes open to paradoxes and possibilities, we can ask seemingly absurd questions that may someday have answers, such as: “What about the speed of dark?”