Introducing Mulberry Bookshelf

Recurring editorial selection to highlight stories that provoke thought, stir emotion, and challenge us to see the world differently.

Some stories stay with us long after we’ve read them—whether through their deep emotional impact, masterful craft, or powerful themes about the human experience. That’s why I’m excited to introduce Mulberry Bookshelf, a recurring editorial selection where I highlight stories that provoke thought, stir emotion, and challenge us to see the world differently.

For this issue, I’ve chosen two remarkable pieces that explore transformation, identity, and the way we reconcile who we are with who the world expects us to be. 

These stories linger—not just in their words, but in the questions they leave behind. What does it mean to change? To be shaped by expectation? To hold onto or surrender pieces of ourselves? Schweblin and Russell offer us worlds where transformation is both beautiful and unsettling, and I hope their stories resonate with you as deeply as they did with me.

"Mouthful of Birds" by Samanta Schweblin

Samanta Schweblin is an Argentine writer known for her unsettling and surreal storytelling. Her novel Fever Dream was shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize, and her collection Mouthful of Birds, where this story originates, has been widely acclaimed for its haunting and poetic prose.

In "Mouthful of Birds", a father struggles to accept his daughter’s inexplicable nature—one that defies logic and his own understanding of love. The story is a meditation on the limits of acceptance and the radical act of embracing someone exactly as they are. Schweblin’s striking imagery and restrained storytelling leave a lingering emotional weight, reminding us that transformation often demands letting go of preconceived notions and stepping into discomfort.

Excerpt: 

Not far from the TV, beside the window, there was a cage. It was a birdcage-maybe a foot and a half tall-that hung from the ceiling, empty. "What's that?" "A cage," Sara said, and smiled. Silva motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen. We stood by the window, and she checked to make sure Sara wasn't listening. The girl was still sitting bolt upright on the sofa, looking out toward the street as if we'd never arrived. Silvia spoke to me in a low voice. "Look, you're going to have to take this calmly." "Come on, Silvia, stop jerking me around. What's going on?" "I haven't fed her since yesterday." "Are you kidding me?" "So you'll see with your own eyes." "Uh-huh... Are you crazy?" She told me to follow her back to the living room, where she pointed me to the sofa. I sat down across from Sara. Silvia left the house, and we saw her cross in front of the window and go into the garage. "What's going on with your mom?" Sara shrugged her shoulders. Her straight black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had thick bangs that hung down almost over her eyes. — Samanta Schweblin, "Mouthful of Birds"

"St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves" by Karen Russell

Karen Russell is an American writer celebrated for her wildly imaginative fiction. Her debut novel Swamplandia! was a Pulitzer Prize finalist, and her short story collection Vampires in the Lemon Grove cemented her as one of today’s most inventive literary voices.

"St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves" is a story of forced transformation. A group of girls—born to wolf parents—are sent to a strict reform school to be trained into human society. Through dark humor and exquisite detail, Russell explores the pain of assimilation, the loss that comes with change, and the question of whether transformation is always a choice—or sometimes a necessity. As these girls shed their wild instincts, they also lose pieces of their former selves, challenging us to reflect on what is gained and what is sacrificed in the process of evolving into different versions of ourselves.

Excerpt:

Our mothers and fathers were werewolves. They lived an outsider's existence in caves at the edge of the forest, threatened by pitchforks. They had been ostracized by the local farmers for eating their silled fruit pies and terrorizing the heifers. They had ostracized the local wolves by having sometimes-thumbs, and regrets, and human children. (Their condition skips a generation.) Our pack grew up in a green purgatory. We couldn't keep up with the purebred wolves, but we never stopped crawling. We spoke a slab- pidgin in the cave, inflected with frequent howls. Our parents wanted something better for us; they wanted us to get braces, use towels, be fully bilingual. When the nuns showed up, our parents couldn't refuse their offer. The nuns, they said, would make us naturalized citizens of human society. We would go to St Lucy's to study a better culture. We didn't know at the time that our parents were sending us away for good. Neither did they. — Karen Russell, "St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves

Call to Action:

I’d love to hear your thoughts—what stories have stayed with you long after reading? If you have a recommendation for a future Mulberry Collective Bookshelf selection, share it with us on social media or send us a message. Let’s keep the conversation (and the storytelling) going. Join the discussion & submit your recommendations: SocialGoodness@MulberryCollective.Org