I did not grow up in war-torn Lebanon. Quite the opposite, in fact: my childhood in the rural American West was downright cushy compared to the circumstances depicted here. But the story told in A Game for Swallows nevertheless depicts a night of anxieties that I resonated deeply with. As Zeina and her brother await their parents' return, their various neighbors gather with them in the apartment's foyer. They bake, they tell stories, they recite monologues; in short, they carve warmth and safety out of the rock wall of their worry. I did not grow up in war-torn Lebanon, but I did grow up with people who loved me and my siblings, and who worked to keep me safe when our parents couldn't be there. I am grateful that Ms. Abirached had that, too.