Shrinking

Jessica Williams always goes to bed laughing.

“Everything’s so sad,” the actor explains. “Not taking yourself seriously is the only way, because otherwise I would just be upset, especially as a Black woman in the year 2026. I hate when people are on ‘The Bachelor’ and they’re like, ‘I love laughing,’ but it’s true. I really love it.”

Williams, 37, knows a thing or two about making others laugh. A three-time Emmy nominee for supporting actress in a comedy series for her work on “Shrinking,” she’s made an art of it. On a show about grief and mental health, Williams is often on hand to bring the funny.

Curled up in a chair on the top floor of The Times’ offices in El Segundo, looking down on the runways of LAX boiling in the late July sun, Williams gives runway fierceness against the beige office walls. She is just like the pop of bubblegum pink polish on her toenails as she strikes a pose in a chic all-black linen ensemble — a delightful burst of cheer in a subdued environment, something effervescent amid so much inoffensive sameness. She’s always been that way.

I would know; I’ve known her since we were 12 years old, awkward adolescents in Marcia Barryte’s Dodson Middle School drama class. As we catch up, I remind her of a PG-13 scene she caused in eighth grade science class during an earthquake drill. (To be fair, the drama students were asked to play standardized patients, and she was assigned “hysteria.”) While the class collected our backpacks, she broke into an award-worthy performance, wailing about not wanting to die a virgin.

“No!” she gasps, covering her mouth but unable to hide the mischievous grin that’s broken across her face at the memory. “That’s very inappropriate. I love that.”

Under slightly different circumstances, it’s a storyline that could belong to her “Shrinking” character, Gaby Evans, a therapist who brings her sunny demeanor, audacious sense of humor and enviable stores of energy into every room. That’s partly because so much of who Gaby is has been carefully honed by the writers and Williams to align with the actor’s voice.

“We can write almost anything and Jessica can make it sound like it has stemmed from Gaby,” says series co-creator Bill Lawrence. “She’s in charge of Gaby’s voice — and it’s a tremendous safety net for us as a writing staff.”

Jessica Williams in “Shrinking.”

(Apple TV)

Williams agrees this has been her experience, one she’s grateful for in an industry often dead set on ignoring perspectives like hers. “At the end of the day, white guys are in charge of this business,” she says. “Progress in film and TV requires them to go to bat for us. I feel really lucky to be on a show where Bill pulled me aside and was like, ‘If I’m doing my job right, the first couple episodes, we write these stories, and then, there’s a moment where it switches to being your character and you are the shepherd of her.’ It made it really collaborative and a safe space for me to play.”

Three seasons in, the set has become the world’s best playground. For instance, the writers gave Williams ample runway in a scene where Gaby turns the tables and proposes to her boyfriend, Derek (Damon Wayans Jr.), after discovering an engagement ring in a desk drawer (and getting it stuck on her finger). “Look, if you’re a television writer and you have a proposal scene and you don’t let Jessica Williams run with it, you’re cheating yourself,” quips Lawrence.

That mutual trust doesn’t mean that Gaby and Williams are the same person — just that Williams’ lived experience has shaped who Gaby is. “The point of a scene is we don’t know what it’s going to be,” she says. “We learned our lines. We’re going to show up. The director’s here. They have an idea. We’re going to make this thing together. We’re going to ‘Yes, and?’ until we get the scene up.”

Her ability to take the ball and run with it is what caught Lawrence’s eye in the first place, discovering Williams as a correspondent on “The Daily Show.” “She works very hard at making it seem like it’s off the cuff,” he emphasizes. “She is quick to call the writing staff with questions and is always looking to improve things. That’s not always the truth with everybody. She works her ass off.”

Jessica Williams. (Ryan Pfluger / For The Times)

That work ethic was essential for her Season 3 arc, which found Williams facing some of the toughest acting challenges of her career. Gaby bonds with a new, albeit reluctant, patient, Maya (Sherry Cola), only to be devastated when Maya takes her own life. It’s the heaviest storyline of the season — and a heartbreaking look at the realities of suicide, loss and trauma in the lives of mental health professionals.

One of the show’s consultants had experienced a similar loss, and their insights helped the writing staff find dramatic resonance. For Williams, it was a chance to showcase what she always believed she was capable of. “For women, people of color, queer people, any minorities, we just want the opportunity to show what we can do,” Williams says. “I was rubbing my hands together. Like, ‘F— yeah. Let’s go.’ But I was also really nervous. Sometimes when I get scenes that are a bit more difficult, I wake up and I wonder if I can do it. Every single time it’s proving to myself that I can. It felt like I didn’t get to rest last season in a way that was really nice. Most times I feel like I’m just goofing, but that felt like, ‘Oh, I’m an actor.’”

That’s an inevitable side effect of appearing on a Bill Lawrence show. His blend of humor and pathos demands a high-wire act from his ensembles. “With Bill, you have to have the acting chops to be able to do the drama, but then be able to turn a joke very quickly,” says Christa Miller, who’s been married to Lawrence since 1999 and played major roles on “Scrubs” and “Cougar Town” before “Shrinking,” in which she stars as Liz. “You really have to be able to do it on a dime.”

Lawrence clocked early on that Williams had the chops to hold her own against heavyweights like Harrison Ford. “We knew comedically she would crush it. The only question mark was about who she was as an actress,” says Lawrence. “But she was great from the second she set foot onstage. It would’ve been a massive mistake not to let her showcase that stuff.”

The storyline also pushed Williams to reopen an old wound. In 2019, she lost her longtime boyfriend to a heroin overdose. “He had a therapist who had come recommended from my therapist,” she says. “I don’t remember that time that much because it was so intense and traumatic. I do remember my therapist was helping me work through it, but she was also like, ‘I’d like to check in with his therapist and see how he’s doing.’ That was the first place I went when they told me about that storyline. It was a good opportunity to work through that a little bit.”

Even though her grief was readily accessible, it also churned up emotions that Williams often tries to quiet. “There’s always something when someone dies, whether it’s suicide or an accident, where you feel guilt,” she reflects. “‘What could I have done?’ It was something that I’ve processed and am still processing, and it was easy to transfer that into Season 3. Grief is so ongoing. It’s a wound that I have forever, and I would give anything to not have it. But now I have it, and I live with it. It’s like an old friend.”

Williams describes the days filming those scenes as different for her, harder to shake. Driving home from the set in Burbank, she’d often take side streets back to her house in Eagle Rock, getting lost in music and her environment. “It felt like trying to shed it,” she explains. “I really felt it. But so many people responded to it in a way that was what I wanted. It’s such an intimate thing, this job, and to be able to portray something [that resonates], that’s the whole point.”

One emotion the work generated that she wasn’t expecting? Embarrassment. “I’m usually not embarrassed doing comedy,” she says. “I’m like, ‘There’s no rules. We can try anything.’ It doesn’t feel as vulnerable, whereas acting, there’s something fundamentally so indulgent about it.”

It’s a surprising admission; though I haven’t spent substantial time with Williams in years, she always seemed fearless to me. Willing to do whatever it took to get a laugh. It’s why our drama teacher invented an entirely new role for her in our spring musical, to showcase her generational comedic talent.

Williams agrees she was a cutup in class, but she never got the chance to do any capital-A acting in middle school. “I would get a part, and then I wouldn’t be able to do it,” she recounts. “Mrs. Barryte would have to call my parents and be like, ‘She did not do her homework. She has bad grades. She can’t do the play.’ I let people down. I remember feeling really sad about it.

“That taught me I’m a part of a team,” she reflects. “I have to be professional. I have to be ready. But I’m glad I don’t have to do my math homework to be able to perform. Public school’s tough — you had to be an awkward Black girl and get good grades to do the musical.”

That all changed when Williams found improv, joining the ComedySportz team at Harbor City’s Narbonne High (she continued on the college team while she was a student at Cal State Long Beach). “I cared about improv so much that I wasn’t not going to do my homework,” she says. “It just affected my life profoundly. I’m getting misty thinking about these programs that are underfunded, that s— really matters.”

Williams has also found reassurance in the response to her character. “She makes me more confident,” she admits. “Just seeing the response to Gaby. A lot of that is amazing writing, directing and an amazing crew, but it’s also my instincts.”

“The first time I was like, ‘Whoa, what the f—?’” she says of her three Emmy nominations for the role. “Second time, it was like, ‘OK, it wasn’t a fluke.’ And then the third time you’re like, ‘Oh s—!’ All the actresses that I admire are in this category, so I’m honored. But these are my peers too. So it’s like, ‘Oh, they see me.’ Gaby means something to people, it feels like — and that’s really nice. It encourages me to keep going.”

As for what that future will hold, besides at least one more season of “Shrinking,” Williams is hungry to do a play on Broadway, having not done theater since high school. Somewhere in there she’d like to capitalize on her tendency to play erudite characters and embody a detective in a thriller (preferably a paranormal one like her childhood faves “So Weird” and “The X-Files”).

Mostly, though, she just wants to keep doing what she’s been striving for since we were kids — “I want, when you watch me, for you to feel like you’ve seen something magic happen.”

Well, abracadabra.

July 14 (UPI) — President Donald Trump has signed a pair of executive orders shrinking two southern Utah national monuments by more than a million acres each, sparking anger from environmentalists who say the moves will open the formerly protected lands to exploration.

The executive orders reduce the size of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument from 1.87 million acres to about 181,500 acres and the Bears Ears National Monument from 1.36 million acres to 121,100 acres. Both are located in redrock country.

Trump signed the orders on Monday in the Oval Office while surrounded by Utah’s Republican leadership, including Gov. Spencer Cox, Sens. Mike Lee and John Curtis and several GOP House representatives.

“This is a big day for Utah,” Cox said.

The executive orders mark the latest development in the nearly decade-long tug-of-war over the size of the monuments, though Republicans have opposed Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and its 1.7-million-acre boundary since President Bill Clinton designated it in 1996. The Bears Ears National Monument was designated by President Barack Obama in late 2016.

During his first term, Trump shrunk both monuments — Bears Ears by 85% and Grand Staircase-Escalante by almost half — only for President Joe Biden to restore both of them to their previous boundaries in 2021.

Republicans, including Cox, argue that the monuments violate the Antiquities Act, which limits the designation to the smallest parcel of land necessary for the proper care and management of the objects to be protected. In a White House fact sheet on the executive orders, the Trump administration argues that the term “objects of historic or scientific interest” has been stretched to include landscapes and biodiversity.

“Now, we care. We definitely care about protecting these antiquities and will continue to do so. The problem is with these giant monument designations, there are resources that come with those,” Cox said at the White House press conference.

“We’re grateful that the president has made a determination that we need to rightsize these monuments.”

He added that this will not remove protections already in place, but will make “the monuments more manageable so that we have the resources necessary to continue to protect these antiquities.”

Trump criticized the size of the monuments, saying the designations prevented the public from using the land.

“You can’t go hunting. You can’t go fishing. You can’t do anything. You can virtually not even walk on it,” he said, though the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources states that people can hunt and fish in both monuments.

Environmental groups have been fighting to maintain the size of both monuments since Trump originally shrunk them, pointing to the fact that Grand Staircase-Escalante was designated due to its wide array of scientific and historic resources and Bears Ears was created following a proposal by five Tribal Nations.

Scott Braden, executive director of the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance, said Monday’s executive orders make clear that Utah is the “epicenter of Republican efforts to dismantle and obliterate America’s system of public lands.”

“These two landscapes deserve to be protected for current and future generations of Utahns and Americans, not opened to exploitation,” Braden said in a statement, adding that the group would challenge the executive orders in court.

“We are confident that President Trump’s reckless and unlawful acts will be rejected and the monuments restored.”

According to the Center for Western Priorities, the executive orders may open the land formerly part of the monuments for sale or lease to oil, gas, mining and logging companies within 60 days.

“The people of Utah and the entire country have spoken with one voice: These lands belong to all of us, not Mike Lee, President Trump or the mining companies his kids are in business with,” CWP Executive Director Aaron Weiss said in a statement.

“Life was good back then. We had everything in abundance.” 

When Jummai Usman says this, she is anchoring herself to a version of Geriyo, a community in Yola, Adamawa State, in northeastern Nigeria, that younger generations in the area may never know. 

Born and raised on the shores of Lake Geriyo, she considers this place her ancestral home. Her parents were fish traders, and she married a fisherman. Her husband would catch the fish and bring them to her to roast and sell to traders, and for decades, this trade sustained them and their children.

Jummai, then married, was 16 years old when the Federal Government of Nigeria established the Lake Geriyo Irrigation Project in 1976. The 24-hectare initiative was managed by the Upper Benue River Basin Development Authority (Upper Benue RBDA) in Yola, under the Federal Ministry of Water Resources. 

It began with 52 registered local farmers, offering them irrigation water and modern agricultural extension services, with water pumped directly from the River Benue. Residents were excited about the project at the time, Jummai recalled, and considered it a means of advancement. Farmlands were carved out and assigned to registered farmers, and an office was established to oversee these activities.

“We paid a fine back then, but I don’t remember how much. My husband paid for it. We called it the water and land levy,” Jummai, who is now 66 years old, said.

Over time, more people flocked to the area, and the lakeside settlement gradually expanded. The site has since grown to cover 429 hectares and now accommodates more than 2,000 farmers.

Among them are people like Ali Usman*, who built his life around Geriyo Lake. He moved to the area at the age of 15 and has lived there for about 25 years, farming and fishing along the lake. “I rent three hectares of land annually. I used it to harvest 100 to 120 bags of rice combined,” he said.

Now a father of seven, Ali fears he may no longer be able to provide for his family, as farming and fishing around Geriyo are becoming harder for thousands who depend on the lake for survival. 

Long credited with improving livelihoods in the area, the Lake Geriyo Irrigation Project is now at the centre of a slow-moving crisis: a shrinking lake, years of institutional neglect despite millions of naira in rehabilitation funds, and a community that has lost its home. HumAngle spoke to several of the residents, who described losing their livelihoods to years of neglect that have left the lake overwhelmed.

‘Geriyo Lake is dying’

The ecological collapse of Geriyo Lake did not happen overnight. Residents have watched it shrink steadily over the years, especially over the past five years, as its waters have receded, its fish have become scarce, and its capacity to sustain farming and fishing has diminished season by season.

Jummai, who has seen the lake in its glory, says it is dying. She believes the shrinking is responsible for the decline in fishing in the area. “Even when we were living by the riverbank decades ago, the place barely got flooded,” she said, adding that the lake had depth back then.

The heavy rainfall on May 18 in Yola brought much-needed relief to farmers in the area, marking the start of the farming season. However, it also stirred fear and concern among the residents of the Geriyo community. Residents say that if the rain continues at this intensity, their homes and farms may be submerged, and farming will come to a standstill. 

Since farmland is usually flooded during the rainy season, some residents told HumAngle they had stopped farming in the area. Others, however, still take the risk, even though the results are often catastrophic.  

While this fear lingers in the hearts of farmers who are yet to harvest the crops they planted during the dry season, some fishermen seized the opportunity to cast their nets, as they haven’t done so in a while due to the shrinking lake. 

“Fish are scarce. We don’t get it like before, so we take advantage of every water channel across the lake to cast our net,” a fisherman in the area told HumAngle, adding that the shrinking lake has affected his trade in the area, making what was once a regular activity only an occasional one. 

Bala Abubakar*, another fisherman in the area, said that overfishing, the shrinking of Lake Geriyo, and poor regulatory practices all contribute to the challenges faced by fishermen. Even though regulations stipulate that only registered fishermen are allowed to fish in the lake, and guards have been stationed to secure the lake at night, Bala said some fishermen still bypass these rules by paying a token fee to the guards.

To control fishing in the area, HumAngle learned, the Geriyo Lake is often declared closed by the Upper Benue RBDA and then reopened for a limited period – typically during the dry season when the lake dries up. 

“At the time the lake will be opened, there will be a leader for each group, and the leader will present the list of his group members, and they might say the group will pay a hundred or ₦200,000 as a passage fee. It depends. And when the lake opens, the group members will go and catch fish for specific months,” Bala explained.

An environmental assessment by researchers at the Federal College of Education, Yola, in 2024 found that fish populations in Lake Geriyo are declining due to largely unregulated fishing practices. The researchers stated that severe pollution of the lake, caused by urban waste and agricultural runoff, has also displaced the fish. The effects are visible in the market. 

Rukaiyatu Sani, a resident of Geriyo and a fish seller, says her business has suffered over the past few months. She noted that when the fishermen make a catch, they sell the fish at a higher price because they have other water levies to pay. “For instance, we used to buy a basket of fish for ₦20,000, but now we buy at either ₦40,000 or ₦45,000,” she said. 

Bashir Abubakar, a professor of environmental resource management at Modibbo Adama University, Yola, corroborated the researchers’ findings. He attributed the shrinking to “a lot of things”, including siltation. “There are encroachment and unsustainable land uses, overfarming, overfishing, tree cutting, and sediment erosion from urban expansion activities around the lake. So all these are inimical to the survival of the lake itself,” he said. 

Bashir explained further that the recurring floods in the Geriyo area stem from its close hydrological relationship with the Benue River — itself under severe stress. 

“When the River Benue becomes full as a result of heavy rainfall, Lake Geriyo also becomes full. When there is a reduction in the size or volume of water in the River Benue, naturally, Lake Geriyo too becomes relatively dry,” he said, adding that siltation, climate change, population explosion and pollution are the basic issues affecting Geriyo.

“More than 70 per cent of what used to be the river Benue is now land with evidence of permanent vegetation, which shows water has not been reaching those places. So this one affects Lake Geriyo, too,” the professor said.

We used a combination of planetary mapping tools in Google Earth Engine to track the lake’s footprint over more than two decades. We pulled historical data from NASA and the USGS’s Landsat 9 satellite to map Lake Geriyo as it was in 2000, and contrasted it with high-resolution imagery captured by the European Space Agency’s Sentinel-2 satellite in 2026.

From high above, satellite images of Lake Geriyo reveal a vital ecosystem being choked to death from the bottom up. As the lake loses depth, it accumulates soil over the decades through soil erosion, causing loose soils to progressively fill the lake’s deep basin with mud.

The satellite imagery shows that the visible water area actually climbed from 1.28 sq km to 1.91 sq km. Meanwhile, the terrain satellite explains why: the average slope of the entire lake basin is a mere 1.35 degrees, a gradient so low that the choked water has nowhere to go but out, creating a shallow basin detrimental to both aquatic and life near the banks. 

While fishermen in the area are grappling with a changing environmental landscape, farmers are also bearing the brunt of Geriyo’s degradation, which leads to annual flooding and loss of soil fertility. 

For instance, Ali, who used to harvest over 100 bags of rice from his combined three hectares, now barely makes half that amount. “If I get 50 bags, that means I am lucky,” he said. 

The Lake Geriyo Irrigation Project, established primarily to provide irrigation and agricultural extension services to local farmers in the region, appears to be falling short of its mandate to supply water. While some locals attribute this to the lake’s shrinking, others believe the rise in fuel prices is to blame. 

Farmers say they pay a standard levy, but not all of them have access to the same level of service. The higher the service fee paid, the higher the quality of service one can expect from the Upper Benue RBDA office at Geriyo, according to local sources.

“I pay ₦4000 per bed, which only covers the rent fee for land. Those who pay higher enjoy access to irrigation services from the office. Their farms are supplied with enough water, and their harvests are always bountiful compared to ours,” he said.

The complaints about unequal access to irrigation come despite significant public spending on the project in recent years. 

Records on GovSpend, a civil society-run platform that tracks and analyses federal government spending, show that ₦32,827,212 was paid to Dect Engineering Limited for “refurbishing, services, lubricating, and installations of M&W pumps at Lake Geriyo Project” on Nov. 18, 2024. Another ₦56,365,196 was paid to South Belgride Oil on Sept. 5, 2024, for the supply of “45,000 litres of diesel” to the site. Both payments were made under the supervision of Upper Benue RBDA. 

Despite these investments, farmers say the benefits are not evenly distributed. In Geriyo, the irrigation plant operates mainly between December and May annually, the area’s peak irrigation season, with water pumped two to three times a week. While this suggests that the system is functional, access to the pumped water remains unequal. Consistent with earlier complaints, farmers who pay higher levies receive water directly from the irrigation network, while lower-paying farmers often have to fetch water from the lake themselves.

The disparities extend beyond water access. HumAngle learned that land allocation is also linked to rental costs, with more expensive plots generally regarded as more fertile. Ali said he pays between ₦70,000 and ₦100,000 per year in land rent, while others pay more. Since all fingers are not equal, low-income farmers suffer most from environmental degradation. 

The sudden notice to vacate

The ecological crisis, devastating as it is, has been compounded by a series of state decisions that have left the community with nowhere to turn.

In 2023, locals living along Geriyo Lake received a notice from the local office ordering them to leave the area. While some residents left within weeks of the notice being issued, others remained. For Jummai, Geriyo is the only place she has ever known, so she had nowhere else to go. 

“We were told that the place belonged to the Adamawa Emirate Council, so the government came to take over,” Ali said. “When they noticed that we were not willing to leave our homes, they gave us a total sum of ₦5 million, which was shared among every household that was yet to vacate the area back then. Each household got ₦57,000, and since people were hungry, we took the money, packed the items we could carry and left our homes.” Jummai’s family also received the money.

A few days after the locals left, houses at the Geriyo Lake were destroyed. The site was declared a government property, and a wall was erected. During a visit to the area in May, HumAngle observed that the fence area is yet to be developed. 

Ali told HumAngle that since the sum each household received was insufficient to pay rent for large households or to secure new homes, the affected group went to an open field behind the lake, erected makeshift homes, and settled there so they could continue farming and fishing.

For Jummai, being dislodged from Geriyo Lake meant being stripped not just of her ancestral home but also of her access to a good life. “Before the government came with vehicles and levelled our houses, I lived with my husband and children in a decent home,” she said. Jummai now lives in a makeshift tent with her family.  They still fish, but occasionally. 

Bashir believes that humans are stewards of the environment, and that displacing them undermines the very interventions meant to save it.

“Whatever policy that the government or any agency is making in those areas towards curtailing or reversing what has already happened there, the human perspective should be taken much more seriously within the context of sustainability,” he said, adding that dislodging the dwellers strips every intervention of the human element needed to maintain the environment and sustain livelihoods.

₦500 million, and not so much to show

Another damning dimension of Geriyo’s crisis is not ecological, but administrative. 

According to EYEMARK, a government-run digital platform that tracks federal infrastructure projects, more than ₦500 million was allocated for the rehabilitation of Lake Geriyo, which was made by the Federal Ministry of Water Resources to the Upper Benue RBDA from 2019 to 2024, with the project listed as the Yola Reclamation (Lake Geriyo) Project. EYEMARK indicates that the project is ongoing and only 1 per cent complete. 

When HumAngle visited the site in May, there were no visible construction activities. 

HumAngle filed a Freedom of Information (FOI) request with the Upper Benue RBDA in Yola, seeking information and documents related to dredging, ecological restoration, irrigation, and other related development projects in line with the Lake Geriyo project. We also sought information on the funds appropriated by the Federal Ministry of Water Resources for the Lake Geriyo project from 2019 to 2024.

The Authority had not responded to the FOI request at the time of publication.

Residents around Geriyo, however, said the river has never been dredged. 

“One time, we got frustrated over the services and reported to the local office, but nothing was done. We even went to the local radio station to voice our grievances, but nothing has changed,” Ali said. 

According to Bashir, effective management of the Geriyo area would require collaboration between the governments of Nigeria and Cameroon, since the Ladgo Dam flows into the Benue River, meaning that what happens upstream has direct consequences for Geriyo’s downstream. 

“There is no strong commitment on the part of our government in terms of having a bilateral agreement with Cameroon as to the management of the river itself. So that is why we are always at the receiving end,” he said. 

Anxiety heightens 

The rainy season has just begun, and Geriyo residents are already on edge, particularly farmers who are yet to complete their harvest from the dry-season farming. 

Bashir, the environmental expert, warns of long-term risks if Geriyo Lake is not dredged and rehabilitation measures are not implemented. “The river is becoming shallower and shallower. So whenever we have a lot of water, the river will not contain the water. So you find that the entire floodplain is submerged, with losses of agricultural land, houses, and so on. So these are, of course, things that are increasing year in year out,” he said.

Bashir added that since the government has not taken technocentric measures such as dredging the river, residents can settle for local measures to protect the land and the river. 

“People should be encouraged to plant trees. If there will be massive afforestation within those areas, I’m very much sure it will go a long way in addressing the issue and reversing it to some level,” he said, adding that planting trees at the riverbanks and areas within the floodplain will help attenuate and reduce the effect of the rainfall. 

Two years on, households like Jummai’s continue to live in makeshift shelters behind Geriyo Lake. When the area floods, they gather their belongings and relocate to higher ground. Since the farmlands also flood, the men resort to fishing alone, but even that becomes highly competitive at times. “During the rainy season, when the sites get flooded, the area is left unregulated, and everyone can fish there,” Bala said.

Despite the degradation of the once-thriving Geriyo community, fishermen and local farmers still arrive in their hundreds every day at the lake, hoping to make a catch or bring in a bountiful harvest. 

But a far greater problem looms. A private individual and a construction company have bought the land where Jummai and her community members have erected makeshift tents. One day, they might be asked to leave.

*Names with asterisks were used to protect some of the sources. 

Satellite analysis and illustration by Mansir Muhammed.

In the age of Ozempic, the buzziest hardcovers are getting smaller — and slip right into your Baggu. At Book Soup in West Hollywood, the bestselling hardcover fiction display is marked with laminated cards that denote the book’s place in the top 10, with each one cut snugly into the popular hardcover frame of 6-by-9 inches. But lately, more of the books rising to the top wear the placard noticeably looser.

I should know, I work at Book Soup so I spend a lot of time staring at this display and can tell you, the answer to this problem is definitely to print out smaller cards cut to the little sister “trim size” of 5-by-8 inches — or 5½-by-8¼ to be specific.

While the New York Times bestsellers from 2025 skew in favor of the 6-by-9 trim, the popularity of 5-by-8 books appears to be on the rise. Current utilizers of the smaller cut include the buzzy Vanderbilt heir Belle Burden’s “Strangers,” George Saunders’ darkly humorous “Vigil” Lena Dunham’s millennial-tinged tell-all “Famesick” and the infamously tablet-sized “Transcription” from Ben Lerner.

1/5

“Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage” by Belle Burden  (The Dial Press)

2/5

“Famesick: A Memoir” by Lena Dunham  (Random House)

3/5

“Vigil: A Novel” by George Saunders  (Random House)

4/5

“Transcription: A Novel” by Ben Lerner  (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)

5/5

“Lost Lambs” by author Madeline Cash  (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)

Gretchen Achilles is the director of interior design at Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Achilles recently implemented the 5-by-8 cut for one of this year’s breakout hits, “Lost Lambs” by Madeline Cash. “It’s a tone,” she says. “Smaller trim sizes have an intimacy. … You want to echo what’s going on in the text as an experience for the reader.”

According to Achilles, FSG frequently implements the 5-by-8 trim size. She said that length is the No. 1 factor when deciding to employ it, followed by genre. She listed literary fiction, memoir, biography, and essay collections as the defining genres of the smaller size books.

Caroline Mason is a writer in New York whose debut novel “An Endless Cycle of Evenings” from Hyperion Avenue is slated for 2027; she runs the Instagram account @literarycrushes. Mason described a 5-by-8 hardcover as shorthand for a specific book she seeks out when she is in a bookstore because it often signals a character-driven novel. “It’s my favorite kind of book,” Mason says. She adds that it’s also Instagram-friendly.

“Holding the book up to take a photo of it is easier,” she says with a laugh. “Although I do sometimes still drop it.”

Dahlia de la Vega is an L.A.-based Bookstagrammer who runs the page @ofpagesandprint. According to De la Vega, she finds the shrunken books more approachable. “When I sit down to read a small hardcover, it almost feels like I’m reading a journal,” she says. “Whereas when I read a large hardcover, it almost feels like I need a journal to jot down notes about what’s happening.”

Ethan Mann, my colleague and a supervisor at Book Soup, told me he remembers the place he was both mentally and physically when he purchased a 5-by-8 hardcover copy of “The Parade” by Dave Eggers. (Right before the pandemic struck at CSUN campus store at Cal-State Northridge). “It’s easier to attach relevance to the specific feel of [the book] because it seems one of a kind,” he says.

Mann adds that hardcovers are sometimes a tough sell on the floor. They are often derided for their cost, and customers declare they will wait till the paperback comes out. But the smaller hardcover has the benefit of fitting into nearly any bag.

Esther Margolis is a publishing veteran and the founder of Newmarket Press. She says that the 5-by-8 hardcover is nothing new. According to Margolis, the smaller trim size was previously the industry standard for U.S.-based publishing houses, and any fluctuation is due to the evolution of printing technology.

“Unlike for mass-market paperbacks, hardcover books were shelved, so it didn’t matter that the books were different sizes,” Margolis says. “They didn’t have to fit into a pocket.”

The popularity of the 5-by-8 hardcover is, at the very least, indicative of a shift in what I witness consumers at Book Soup seeking out. With social media making it easier than ever to connect over the act of reading, or looking like you are reading, cover design and presentation — and how it cuts through the noise of the attention economy— is perhaps a factor too.

“A small hardback is like a Labubu,” my co-worker Mann says. “ The feeling in your hands isn’t just about books — it’s about all cute things. … We like small things we can control.”

The success of the publishing industry could never rest on the tiny shoulders of the small hardcover. It may not even represent any changes in production. But on the bestsellers display at your favorite local indie, it represents the small pleasure of palming a near-pocket-size book in your hands.

And, yes, maybe Instagrammability too.

Messinger is a writer in L.A. who runs the Substack adumbmessinger.