On December 11, 2025, I received an article submission from Sara Mansfield Taber, a writer who had, over the course of the past decade, published several pieces in the Scholar. “Since 2021, when the Taliban took over Afghanistan,” Sara wrote in her cover note, “I have found myself unexpectedly, uncannily, and passionately absorbed in work with Afghan girls and women living both in Afghanistan and in nearby countries of South Asia. My dedication to this work of leading writing workshops and mentoring the young women far surpasses [what] I have felt with respect to any work I have ever before taken up. Some might call me obsessed.” The essay, called “Why Afghan Girls,” was thoroughly engaging, but we didn’t have room to print the work in its entirety. I was, however, drawn to the section in which Sara told the harrowing story of her parents’ experiences in wartime Vietnam. On January 5, I asked whether we could publish this extract as a standalone piece in our Summer issue. A week later, she responded enthusiastically but added this ominous line: “I am facing a very serious illness so I appreciate your expediting this review if possible.”
I didn’t probe, not wanting to intrude. But I quickly got to work, and not long after, I sent her my edit. On January 27, Sara responded that she was pleased and wanted to proceed. Then, on February 10, I received an email from Sara’s daughter, Maud, who informed me that her mother’s condition had worsened to the point where she could no longer respond to emails.
The next day, Sara died. Only later did I learn that she had spent her final months working furiously to complete an epic poem based on Aeschylus’s Oresteia, a project that had occupied her for years. Sara had a doctorate from Harvard in human development and a master’s degree in social work. She was as conversant in Virgil as she was in the behavioral patterns of the southern right whale. She was forever interested in her father’s life as a CIA case officer, and it is this material that forms the basis of the posthumously published piece in this issue (“Any Way You Can,” p. 8). It is a remarkable account, as well as a glimpse into the rich and sensitive mind of a most accomplished woman, one whom we will dearly miss.
