Author: Matthew Groff

  • Short Story Review: “After the Funeral” by Tessa Hadley

    (The short story “After the Funeral,” by Tessa Hadley, appeared in the March 28th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    I don’t think I’m telling you something that you don’t already know, but there sure aren’t many stories about mother and daughters. Hey, I know that there are some great mother and daughter stories out there, but if you compare it to the number of father and son stories, then you can see that mother/daughter’s haven’t been given enough due.

    “After the Funeral” by Tessa Hadley is a mother/daughter story. It begins just like you’d think, after the funeral of Philip, a BOAC pilot who has died in a hotel away from his wife, Marlene, and his two daughters, Charlotte age nine, and Lulu age seven. Marlene is so grief stricken that her two daughters have to step in, not only to console their mother, but also to push her to just function as their mother. Soon it is revealed that Philip wasn’t a very good father nor husband, as when he died, he was not alone in his hotel. Soon, Philip’s family, especially an over baring mother-in-law, steps in to take charge of Marlene, Charlotte and Lulu’s life; sorting out finances, having them move to a more affordable flat, paying for the girl’s school, and helping Marlene get a job at a doctor’s office. Time passes for this small family, and soon the married doctor Marlene works for starts spending more time with her and the girls, but soon Marlene is let go from the job due to implied reasons. Marlene finds another job at a grocery store that supports her family, and fulfills her. At the same time Charlotte is accepted to go to University, but refuses because she feels her mother cannot function without someone watching out for her. The doctor reappears, now having separated from his wife and wants to marry Marlene, but Marlene cannot commit to him, which bothers Charlotte immensely, as the marriage to the doctor would allow Charlotte to leave her mother, and go off to college.

    It is a very well-made plot, and a very well-made story. It’s beautifully written, and shows that Tessa Hadley is a very good writer. Yet, something was still off for me. It was the climax of the story, which I will not spoil. This story is very direct, which is shown by the fact that the title is literally the first line of the story, which to me signaled that this is the moment that these lives all changed their trajectory. What they thought their lives would be has completely changed, and the relationship between Marlene and Charlotte is central to that idea. Marlene has not been the maternal one, relegating that responsibility to Charlotte. And when the climax arrives, and Marlene starts to behave motherly toward Charlotte, Charlotte slips right in to accepting this affection. I found it odd because there was no resentment from Charlotte to her mother, no angst, anger, spite, nothing. Why it bothers me is not that I believe a daughter wouldn’t accept this consoling from her oft-absent mother, but because the story had laid out a very methodical cause and affect motivation for these two characters. It left me with a “meh” feeling because I wanted these characters to reconcile the way they did, but I didn’t feel it was authentic to the story that was laid out. Sticking the landing in a short story is tough, not matter what the story is about. I liked that these characters were messy, but not abnormal; just off a little. They cared about each other, but clearly wanted different things in their lives. It is complicated. As mother and daughter relationships can be, but also illuminating in showing how we become the people that we are, which is why these stories need to be told.

  • Not Enough Time

    I am stealing a moment to type this out. I didn’t do my homework last night. My homework being to make a meal plan for the week, a grocery list, and writing a blog to be posted this morning. What I did was binge three episodes of Ted Lasso with my wife, and then fell asleep on the couch.

    So, now I am running behind. I still have to do the aforementioned tasks, but I also have to take the kid to her dentist appointment later today. As this is titled, I don’t have enough time to get everything done.

    And I had two really great ideas for a blog. One was about showing how over the past 30 years homage, parody, and ripping-off in media have become blurred. The other was how I was completely judgmental toward guys who work out all the time at the gym. Both I thought were great ideas.

    But now I have to go.

    Maybe I’ll get to it later in the week.

  • Short Story Review: “The Complete” by Gabriel Smith

    (The short story “The Complete,” by Gabriel Smith appeared in Issue 6, of The Drift.)

    At the start of the pandemic, my wife was on one of those huge group chats with her friends, all attempting to use Zoom, and recreate some sense of normal human connection. This was probably April or May 2020. Most of my wife’s friends are in the creative fields; writers, actors, directors, poets. My wife told me later, that on one of those early calls, they all started discussing how they thought the pandemic was going to be portrayed in movies, TV, theatre, novels, and so on. Some thought it would usher in a new version of hyper-realism, another group thought it would be treated how 9/11 was. I don’t know, but since those early days, it feels like every couple of months, someone writes something asking, “How will the story of COVID be told?”

    Gabriel Smith’s story, “The Complete,” is the first work of fiction I have read that has tried to take a crack at it. I don’t think I could give a quick summary, or even a long one, for this story. It takes place in London, sort of. It’s about a writer, kind of. And COVID is happening. While the story doesn’t have a formal plot, it does have atmosphere, mood, and an almost tangible ethereal presence. Oh, and a real good sense of humor.

    Two main things struck me with the story. First, I felt like someone captured what my brain went through during the dark days of the pandemic. How my imagination would wander and drift, break things apart and put them back together. I had so much time to think about everything that had ever happened to me, and way too much time to think about the end of the world. Second, the whole piece worked in this wonderful staccato rhythm, with each section of the story coming in, then cutting to another part, then another cut. This method of storytelling wasn’t new to me, I have read other attempts of this style, and I was aware that at some point all of these tangents would tie together. But the fun wasn’t waiting to see if it came together; The fun was watching how it came together. Because I can see how someone might complain that this story is all style and no substance, yet I would argue, strongly, that the substance, the weight of this story, was in the style which captured a still undefinable time.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Playing Dumb, Vacation, and The Next Stage of Life

    When I went to pick up my daughter from school yesterday, she was super excited to tell me all about these new Solar System facts she just learned! How the sun is a star, and Venus is the hottest planet, and Jupiter Saturn and Uranus and Neptune were giant gas planets, and Pluto was a dwarf planet, and on and on. She was bubbling over with how cool space was, and how there is an international space station, and that we send robots to the planets and even to a comet! And each new fact that she presented to me was in the form of a question; “Dad, did you know Pluto is a dwarf planet?” Well, yes I do know that, and I was alive when Pluto was considered a normal, regular planet. But I don’t say anything. I just smile and nod my head because I have come full circle. All the years I went rattling off facts to my parents, which I now see they clearly already knew, but they let me proudly prattle on. Now, I am being prattled on, but I see the excitement of learning in my daughter’s eyes. That feeling of the world being knowable and accessible at the same time.

    I want to go on vacation. As it starts to get warmer out, I have this need to get out of the City. It would be great to get away, even for a long three-day weekend. I like living in New York City, but I also love getting the hell out of New York City.

    Another friend of mine lost their parent last night. They put up a post on social media, and I commented, telling them how sorry I am, and love them. Sadly, this has been happening more and more often with my friends, and this isn’t due to Covid. This is life. Me and my friends are hitting middle age, and our parents are reaching the end of their lives. Before, when a parent passed, it was a rare and unexpected occurrence. Now, it is becoming a bit more common, as, sadly, this is the next stage in life. And these things happen in waves. First, we all got married, and then started having babies, and then there was the small divorce wave, followed by more babies and second marriages. Now, we are at the time when on parents start to leave us. I wish there was more I could do or say to my friend at this time. I do remember when my Ma passed, and I received many posts, messages and texts. It meant a lot to me, knowing that people cared and were still decent. I hope my friend is getting some comfort at this time from all the people that care for them.

  • Where I’m At

    I got rejected from another lit magazine yesterday. I submitted to five at the end of January/beginning of February. That would be three rejections in the past two weeks. I am expecting to be rejected by the final two magazines, and then we will start this whole process over again.

    I am reminding myself that everyone I know who has a successful career in the arts had to put in about ten years of ground work first. The other thing that comes to mind is what my dad told me about achieving a goal; you get 100 no’s before the first yes, so get the no’s out of the way. So, 97 more no’s to go.

    Now that I have the self-affirmation shit out of the way, I think I’m going to subscribe to “The Drift” today. It’s a quarterly lit mag, written by people who are younger than me. I mean, not that much younger, but still, I have a few years on them. Anyway, I feel the need to discover some new ideas.

    I have been able to get back to reading regularly, and I am making headway through “The Stories of John Cheever.” I still have “60 Stories” by Donald Barthelme that I seem to have been working on for five years, but I am feeling like 2022 is the year it will be finished. Furthermore, I feel like I will be making a trip down to The Strand soon, and see what I can find.

    Yeah. That’s where I’m at.