Month: May 2023

  • Short Story Review: “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari (Translated, from the Italian, by Brian Robert Moore.)

    (The short story “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari appeared in the May 29th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (This story will be SPOILED, so beware!)

    Illustration by Guido Scarabottolo

    The old “losing your ball over the fence” story. It’s nice to know that boys in other countries have this issue as well. Seems like most kids grow up with this situation – the ball goes over the fence, and it is never seen again. Then the imagination takes over allowing wild stories to be created about the owner of the yard, and their dark evil soul, for only the vilest of humans would refuse to return a ball. I would say, “The Sandlot” comes to mind for most people when you talk about this situation. And it is a wonderful premise/structure/metaphor to address youth, nostalgia, coming of age, and a host of other ideas that writers have when they create stories about boys.

    Michele Mari’s story, “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz,” in essence is no different. Here the boys are in a boarding school playing soccer, and one of their goals abuts against a wall that belongs to Mr. Kurz’s backyard. When a soccer ball goes over the wall, Mr. Kurz, though polite about it, does not return the ball. Out of complete frustration, the boys hatch a plan to send one of their own over the wall to retrieve the balls.

    Though a predictable plot, Mari’s story does rise above the cliché. This narrative exists in a world of nostalgia, and I wouldn’t say the narrator is unreliable, but he does take some liberties with the truth, and in a very funny speech given by one of the boys, acknowledges this liberty. What this creates is a very charming world that these boys exist in, where their desire to have a fair and regular soccer match becomes the most important concern in their lives.

    I did have two minor issues with the story. First was the delivery of backstory, especially the rules that govern how the boys acquire new soccer balls. Most of this story, information is given directly to the reader from the narrator, but in this one situation, the boys explain the rules to each other. It felt clunky, and didn’t fit with the overall flow of the story. The second, and this is very nit-picky, is that I don’t know a single European male who speaks English that calls “soccer” soccer; it’s football. In Italy, the term is “calcio” which means “kick.” This makes me believe that this was a translation decision. Soccer is an American used term, and in this setting, it left a taste in my mouth that the story was “Americanized.”

    Now, what drew me in with this story was the well-executed climax. One of the boys does go over the wall late at night/early morning only to discover what Mr. Kurz has been doing to the balls, as well as how he spends his time in that yard. I’m trying to not spoil this, so forgive my vagueness, but when this boy receives a new ball from his father, and does what he does with it, all of the threads of this story are tied nicely together. I appreciated that Mari used that final moment to show this boy’s new understanding of the world. How the boy is essentially still the same, but his viewpoint of the world had expanded. That this boy knows he is now part of a moment in time.

  • Questioning Everything, Still (Unedited)

    There are some things that I don’t like about getting older, but I have mentioned my unfathomable dissepiment of ear hair already. But, I’m not here to speak of that.

    I, like most people, was an angsty teenager, and my distrust of anyone over the age of thirty was a pretty solid foundation in what I considered to be my character. I didn’t like the world that was around me, and I wanted desperately not to be the type of adult that reinforced the status quo. I challenged the ideas behind institution and conventions. Over my seven years of university education, I felt that continued in my questioning ways, and though I can admit that I came to no life changing conclusions, I did adopt the philosophy of looking to alternatives first.

    Then something happened in my thirties, and into my forties; I started to accept the way of things, and in some situations I would even get very angry at the way things had. I started to use phrases like, “That’s just how it is,” or “What are you gun’na do” way too often. I believed I was being a realist, seeing the world as it is, but in reality I was just giving up.

    I don’t say this lightly, but I gave up. I stopped trying. I started to look at life as something that I had failed at. That I had played, and lost, and I should just go away – Watch my tv, eat my chips, complain about the music being too loud.

    And I started to wonder; is this what it’s like getting older? Just being angry all the time? That sounds awful, but I began to ponder about it. How many people are out there are really angry that things didn’t work out the way they through they would? How many of those people are middle aged men? How many of these men are just projection their self-disappointment?

    Am I on that path right now? Can I still get off of it?

  • What I Taught My Kid

    What I Taught My Kid

    My daughter learned how to do this. I felt it was important that she understood the brilliance of “The Ministry of Silly Walks” sketch.

  • ODDS and ENDS: End of the Season, No Room, and 25-5

    (All This Can Be Yours…)

    Tottenham has two matches left to the season, and I think the best that they can do is 6th place. I predict that Spurs will lose to Brentford, and then end with a win against Leeds. There is still a chance that Tottenham will qualify for the Europa League, or the Europa Conference League next season, but being how tough the last several matches have been, they could burn out easily. I would like to see them win a trophy next season, any trophy. But all of that will depend on the next manager and if Harry Kane sticks around.

    I’m running out of room for books in my apartment. And, I have about nine file boxes in storage of more books that the wife and I have collected. I refuse to get rid of the books. That just feels like abandoning your child. Yet, I also feel compelled to go book shopping this weekend.

    I should get a move on, you know. I was able to write these first to sections of this post rather fast, and now, for the past hour I have been trying to come up with a third paragraph. Not sure why I hit this block all of a sudden. I started looking out the livingroom window, and everything just ground to a halt. I was thinking about the kid at school, and how close Summer is, and if we were going to be able to get a vacation up to Maine this year. (Rather late in the year, so I’m thinking not.) Just random idea after random idea, but nothing solid that would lend itself to a narrative. Has anyone heard of the 25 – 5-minute rule? You work for 25 minutes, and then give yourself a 5-minute break. It’s supposed to help you stay focused and not burn out. Huh?

  • What Does Malcolm Gladwell Know, Anyway…?

    I will be house husbanding it today.

    I also think the words, house husband should be spelled “house-husband,” but autocorrect disagrees with me. English is a strange language which never stops evolving.

    And when I say that I will be house husbanding “it” what that really means is I have a bunch of errands to run around the city for the family. Every now and then, a day like is emerges and I have to put a bunch of other things that I would like to do on the back burner. Life is about trade-offs, and today, I will be living the trade-off.

    But, one thing that I won’t let myself skip out on is putting down at least 250 words daily. I have been a little lax on the blog since the start of the year. I would post Monday through Friday, with occasional holiday breaks. But since the start of the year, it has been closer to four post a week. I still journal every day, which is how I normally hit my 250-word quota. A good day is 1,000 words, and bad day is 250.

    You know, I started all of this back in 2019. I’m four years into this plan. Outside of my marriage, this is the longest commitment I have ever maintained. I started to think the other day that I should be closing in on my Gladwell 10,000 hours. Now if I do some simple math, like saying that I write about 3 hours a day, on average for 21 days a month, for four years now which means…

    I’ve put in 3,024 hours…

    So… I guess I’m still in my beginner phase.

    You know, Gladwell said that the 10,000 hours was just a guideline, not a hard rule.

    Yeah…

    I need to get going on my errands.