Elizabeth Scarboro’s memoir, My Foreign Cities, opens with a great leap. It is summer and the author has scrambled up the rocks of Boulder Canyon with her boyfriend, Stephen, who quickly takes the plunge into the swimming hole below. Scarboro is more cautious. If she turns back, she will have to navigate the slippery rocks she has just scaled. She inches toward the ledge. She pauses, and then she jumps.
It’s an evocative introduction to Scarboro, a young woman who always wanted a life of adventure—ideally, as she writes in high school, “as an international journalist, moving ...
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