One of our favorite Monthly essayists explores the vagaries of fate that bound her to parents with whom she was tragically mismatched.

It’s not the brain tumor that wreaks havoc with the writer’s life; it’s the chilling medical lingo.

Twice a year, roughly coinciding with the summer and winter solstices, The Monthly offers local writers a chance to submit their personal essays—and readers a chance to savor the cream of the crop. In this, our Winter 2010 essay issue, we are pleased to publish seven compelling essays on the subject of one significant moment. Inspired by tumors, ghosts, sexual straying, pastries (yes, pastries) and more, these literary snapshots capture instants that forever shifted lives.

The dating advice I’m going to give you is simple. Don’t date your accountant. You may covet the...

The evocative sound of “summer” means different things to different people, from sticky county fairs to lazy afternoons by a lake to fog-filled coastal mornings. In our annual summer essay issue, seven East Bay writers offer work inspired by our “31 Flavors” prompt. Pour yourself a glass of lemonade, curl up in an easy chair, and let yourself relax into the sensual details of the season—not just the flavors, but the sights, sounds, and smells…and the way it gets under your skin.