Rachel Kushner had warned me that there might be snakes and one very mean turkey on the farm. There would also be mud; she recommended rubber boots. And, as far as she remembered, there was no cell service.
The property in Delaware County, N.Y., belonged to her cousin, who did not want to be named in this article but greeted me with a saxophone performance on the porch of a green cottage. Across the way was the house where Ms. Kushner, a novelist whose work often explores society’s gritty margins, was staying for a few days early this summer.
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