Author: Matthew Groff

  • Short Story Review: “Easter” by Caleb Crain

    (The short story “Easter” by Caleb Crain appeared in the September 26th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Photograph by Ana Cuba for The New Yorker)

    (I SPOIL EVERYTHING!)

    The short story “Easter” by Calen Crain is set in Ft. Worth, TX, so my interest in this story was peaked rather early. Set in the recent past, or at least before cd Walkmen players, this story has no reason to be set in the recent past, or in Ft. Worth, TX. It could take place anywhere, and take place as far back as 1967, if you replace the Walkman with a turntable.

    It’s not a badly written story, as it does contain one really great line in it, which I will point out in a minute, yet this work taps on just enough modern short story clichés that it did make me roll my eyes.

    The protagonist, Jacob, smokes pot, which appears to be the literary go-to action to show that a character is lost. Besides smoking pot, Jacob has a shake in his hand. Jacob is travelling from Houston, where he was visiting a Harvard classmate, to Ft. Worth to spend time with his mother, grandmother, and his retired doctor and elderly grandfather. Once all are together, granddad notices Jacob’s shake and offers to prescribe a drug to help him. After going to a specific pharmacy, and dinner, the family returns to the grandparents’ home, and settles in. Jacob is called to his grandfather’s bed, where the grandfather is unable to speak to him. In the morning, the grandfather has died in his sleep, and Jacob’s mother wants to know why there is a bottle of pills in the grandfather’s room with Jacob’s name on it. Then we jump to a new section where Jacob and his Harvard friend are driving out of Houston to go shoot guns in the country, because doing something new that might kill you is fun.

    Sadly, Jacob is the least interesting person in the story, and it isn’t a “charming” not interesting. Much time is spent on him being high, even showing that he is bad and hiding that fact when he is around people. (I guess pot has become the replacement cliché that drinking used to be in the 50’s.) He is detached from the world around him and just seems to float from person to person, but we are never given a reason why he is this way. (The hand? Maybe.) The grandfather seems very interested in giving Jacob an opportunity to become something more than himself, which is shown in the comment and the prescription for the drug to help with the shake. But, you can’t build sympathy for an apathetic character who has access to great opportunities in life; Jacob goes to Harvard, and it also appears that this is not a family struggling for cash, so Jacob is just lazy and spoiled. (Cliché) And the grandfather is old, and this is a short story, so we all know that he’s going to die. (Cliché.) AND then, this story does that, “last section has nothing to do with the climax, but recalls a recent event in the past that ties the whole story together” thing. (Cliché.) [For the record: This end of story literary trick with the new section that comes out of nowhere and tries to tie the story together, it should have a name to identify it. I propose “Chick in the Wastebasket.” It’s the last line in “Just Before the War with the Eskimos” which I think is the first story I know of that used this trick.]

    It’s too bad because Crain’s writing is good, and the story contained a few phrases and observations that stood out. My favorite was in reference to the grandfather: “…old people are sometimes a little ruthless about their pleasures – about taking from the world they have survived into tokens that remind them of what they loved about the one they grew up in.” That’s good. That’s really good, and I noted it the second I read it. But one line, even a really great one, can’t save the boat here.

    (I have returned to the short story reviews, and I need your help. If you enjoy these takes that I have, please give a like, leave a comment, or share this post. Eustace Tilley would approve.)

  • Sleep

    We are so tired in our home. Like, sleep isn’t working out for us. Lord knows I try to sleep, but my body just doesn’t want to go to bed. My wife is the opposite; she goes to bed early, but still wakes up tired. Though I feel like I could blame the kid on this one, it’s not her fault. She has started sleeping in on weekends, and even if she does get up early now, she’s old enough to work the tv and feed herself.

    Even when we were on vacation, and we slept hard, but it never seemed like enough. In fact, I don’t think I can tell you the last time when I was sleeping well. Somewhere in college, my grasp of getting restful sleep left me. Classes, long hours in the theatre department, building sets and costumes, rehearsing and performing plays, and then closing out the bar each night. Yup, I should have slept more.

    I keep thinking that someday, I will arrive in the promised land of sleep. That at 11pm, I will drift off, and then wake up at nice and early with the sun, feeling refreshed, and eager to take on the day. The only thing I am eager to do when I wake up is to go back to bed. I might need to start entraining the thought that there is no holy land of restful sleep for adults.

    Honestly, think about everyone you know. How many of them say that they get a good night sleep and feel refreshed in the morning? Now, be honest; deep down you know they are lying to you, right? There is just something unnatural about their behavior. It seems forced. Just like people who claim cross-fit is fun.

    Right now, the wife is sitting on the couch with me and we are both yawning. We are one little snuggle away from taking a solid nap. It won’t happen, but man, it is tempting.

    (Biddie-biddie-biddie! Give a like, or a share, or comment on this post, Buck! Or I’ll make more obscure references to old TV shows! Biddie-biddie-biddie!)

  • Where I work

    I work on the couch most days. The local library was the other place that I would work, but currently that branch is closed for repairs and remodeling, which leaves me on the couch for the foreseeable future. It would be nice to have a desk to work at. That last time I had a desk was two years ago before my wife got her current remote job. Since that time, we did away with the old wooden desk, and my wife has more of a rolling/standing desk she uses in the bedroom. Maybe I’ll have a desk again, one day.

    On the whole, I like sitting on the couch. It is comfy, though that can be a disadvantage when I am tired, and it is quite easy to slink over and take a nap. But being in the living room gives me access to the stereo and the TV which is one way I can listen to music while I work, it has turned out rather ideal

    The other nice aspect of the couch office is that I have a window I can look out of. Currently, I have the view of a construction site that is putting up a sixteen-story condo/hotel. The funny thing is that I never see more than five guys working there on any given day. At this rate, it might take them sixteen years to finish it. But even before the construction, it wasn’t the prettiest view out that window. We live in the back of the building, and for years we just had two empty parking lots and autobody shop to look at. Not exactly inspiring, but it was quite most days. Now, there is the sound of a power tools, between 7am and 4pm, Monday through Friday, but outside of that…

    Still rather ideal for writing.

    (Hey! It’s a new week, which means a new chance for you to give a like, or a share, or even leave a comment on this blog. Unless you are reading this from the archive, in that case; Who won the 2024 Election?)

    (It will take some time, but that joke WILL pay off.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Tottenham Statement, It’s a Con, Weather, Honesty, and Connection

    (Riding on any wave, that is the luck you crave)

    Tottenham isn’t playing this weekend, so I have nothing to say about them this week. Oh, I will have something to say, but not at this time.

    What if I told you that no one knows anything? That knowledge, true knowledge, is unattainable. If all of that is true, then do you think that real estate seminar really has secrets to share with you? It’s a con.

    Sweater weather means I also need warmer socks.

    Friends don’t let friends become Alex Jones-types.

    Somedays, it’s hard to get the thoughts organized enough to share them. But what I do know is that Elastica was an underrated band.

    (Remember to like, share and comment. Not just on this blog, but in life, too.)

  • The Dance of the Air Conditioners

    When God? When Lord, will we be able to take our air conditioners out of our apartment?

    This is the prayer I say around this time of year. Fall is so tantalizingly close, but still we need our air conditioners. I just want these clunky, environment destroying, comfortability creating machines out of our home! They run up our electricity bill, make the apartment feel unnaturally cool, and block the use of widows.

    Like most people up here in the Northeast, we have a home that doesn’t contain central air conditioning. We have a window unit in the kid’s room, and a stand-alone unit that takes up an awkward position in the living room, like a house guest that won’t leave. Though our apartment is great in winter, as it retains heat very well, this place is an oven in the Summer. No matter how we try to vent and fan this place, the air in here remains warm, and never leaves. In fact, we have a dead zone at the dining table where it will continually stays two to five degrees warmer than the rest of the place.

    Usually around Memorial Day or the first week in June, we head out to storage and pick up our two a/c units. We play the game of, “Will Dad Throw Out His Back,” sometimes accompanied with the question, “Is That a Hernia?” The wife does help me as we do have to carry these units up two flights of stairs. It is a chore no one wants to do, but we know we have to do it to survive the Summer.

    In fact, the wife did her first Summer in the apartment with no a/c. This is before I showed up, so I didn’t experience it, but oh the stories that woman can tell of the heat. Never again will this apartment not have a/c in the Summer, she swore!

    Then around this time of year, mid to late September, after the weather has settled to an average daily high in the mid 70’s, we do the dance again, back to storage with the units. Going down the stairs with heavy objects is much easier and fun. It sort of is like the first activity of Fall for us; next comes apple picking and pumpkin carving.

    The lead up to removing the a/c’s this year has been rather excruciating. See, at the end of August, we took a vacation up to northern Maine, staying in a cabin on the side of a mountain. It was pretty there, as I am sure you can imagine, but what was the most thrilling for us old people was that we had the windows open, day and night, with the breeze coming in. You had to put a sweater on at night. That’s right! A sweater in August, which is a thrill for a guy who grew up in Texas, and the word August is synonymous with 100-degree heat. So, what I am looking forward to is opening up windows and putting on a sweater.

    As I sit here on my couch, with the a/c blowing, I am writing this post while waiting on a cool front to come through. Hopefully, by the end of today, we will have windows open. The sweater might still be a reach, but here’s to hoping.

    (Hey! I see you there. Look, I need a favor. I can’t pay off my bookies until this blog thing starts generating some cash for me. Okay, so what I need you to do is to like this post, or comment on it, or even share it with people you know. Anything to get that algorithm working in my favor. I can get you back on this. Promise.)