David Small Books

Detroit in the mid-twentieth century was a booming city, but inside my family’s modest home, prosperity was measured not in warmth but in restraint. My father’s profession as a radiologist immersed our household in an aura of clinical detachment. He healed bodies but never touched hearts. My mother,...

From Stitches: A Memoir

My father’s profession shaped much of my fear. He brought home X-rays that glowed like ghostly images of trapped grief. I was often his subject, quietly placed beneath machines whose purpose I couldn’t understand. Those years of exposure would leave their mark later, physically and emotionally. The ...

From Stitches: A Memoir