Author: Matthew Groff

  • Short Story Review: “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal

    (The short Story, “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal, appeared in the January 24, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    To all the high school English teachers I had, the college English and Creative Writing professors who tried to teach me, and to all the writing group members who argued strongly against me, I can now conclusively say that you were all wrong. That I and my good friend, and sometime writing partner, John Esquivel were right; you can write a story that has no plot or climax, and it can still meet the cathartic resolution threshold for a short story to be successful. No matter your opinion of it, but The New Yorker is a preeminent publication of short fiction, and if their editors saw fit to publish a story of this form, then it must be true; a short story to be successful does not need a plot or climax, it just needs catharsis for its protagonist.

    “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal is the story I am speaking of, and I applaud the effort of it. It is a simple narrative of an older male New Yorker dealing with the start of the Covid pandemic, and the thoughts that he has.

    I had the feeling, about half way through reading it, that this was a rather experimental story. Not stream of consciousness, nor modern absurdist, but like a filtered realistic consciousness. It exist in a linear timeline, but it feels like that is there more to show the movement of time, and not as a hard road sign of where the narrator is. Memories and thoughts float in, and so does the music the main character is listening to, which lead me to also feel that there was a music quality to the story; like how listening to classical music can sort of make you feel like the music is floating in the air.

    I did enjoy the story, and the structure of it, but I was still left feeling that the catharsis wasn’t complete. To use a music metaphor; the song didn’t end, but just faded out. Like it was a deep cut B-side from your favorite band. The song was good, but you understand why it didn’t make the album. I think I feel this way because of the structure Krystal used for the story, such as a question is posed in the story, and then referenced again at the ending which brings about the catharsis for the protagonist. Krystal placed the question close to the ending, which I feel didn’t give it enough time mix and fold with the memories, thus making the catharsis feel muted, but not ineffective.

    It is a minor criticism, because I felt that Krystal was successful in creating a realistic character that is experiencing, thinking, and remembering all at the same time. It makes the story feel honest, and, personally for me, proves that a short story does not need to behave like a novel. It can be its own art form.

  • Yes, I am Procrastinating

    I am having the day of getting nothing done, while at the same time, getting stuff done. I have sat on the couch for the last forty minutes, and really haven’t done anything but look up obscure stuff, and get totally sucked into Buzzfeed listicles.

    Yet, I can say that I have meal planed for the week, gone grocery shopping, and read a short story. I also put the kid’s school schedule for the rest of the year in my calendar, and started looking up summer camp options, though I don’t think we can afford a sleepaway camp this year.

    But I am tempered by the things that I want to get done today, like finish the edits on my story. I also need to get started on a cover letter for submitting the story. I am a little nervous to do that because the only “professional” writing credits I have number two, and they were twenty-five years ago.

    So, I guess I am procrastinating a touch.

    Which is true, because I thought awhile about how Yogi Berra argued his whole life that he tagged Jackie Robinson out on that stealing home play.

    Not that has anything to do with anything… but did you ever think about that advice everyone is given how you should do what makes you happy, and that should be your career. What if what makes you happy has no value in society?

    Also, my dog smells like corn nuts.

    Okay, seriously, I’m going to go to work now.

    But first, I am going to where a tweed sportscoat.

  • You Had the Win

    This isn’t about sports, though it was a crazy sports weekend.

    I am currently doing my laundry, and as happens sometimes, a dryer ate someone’s quarters. The guy who lost his quarters, asked to get his money back, and an argument ensued between him and the people who run the laundromat. The details don’t matter other than, at the end of the argument, the guy got his quarters back.

    But…

    When the guy got his quarters back, he proceeded to scream and yell that the people who run the laundromat, calling them scammers, and that they can’t be trusted, and are garbage. Which caused the people who run the laundromat to accuse the man of the same thing, and they just kept yelling at each other.

    The thing that I can’t wrap my head around is that the guy who got his quarters back won. He didn’t need to say anything else, he got what he wanted. But he had to spike the ball. He had to push it. He had to make things worse.

    Sure, some people can’t help themselves, but man…

  • ODDS and ENDS: Tottenham and Peacock, Facial Hair, and Wordle

    (You know the drill…)

    On Wednesday, Tottenham had an amazing comeback win in stoppage time against Leicester City. The match was in the middle of the afternoon, and I wasn’t able to watch as I was hanging out with the kid in the park afterschool. Not to worry, I have a Peacock subscription, and I can catch the replay. I know this because yesterday on the app, it even said that I could watch the replay next day after 5pm. I mean, it’s a stupid rule, but whatever, other apps do the same thing. When I went to watch the replay last night, it was gone. There was nothing on the Peacock app showing the replay, or even highlights of the match. I’m confused NBC/Universal. I thought you shelled out a shit ton of money to the Premier League to have the rights to broadcast their matches in the US, with the intent to get guys like me, middle aged dudes with lots of time on their hands, to become dedicated Premier League football fans. So… why are you making it rather difficult for new fans, like me, to watch replays of matches? Tottenham is in the top five and Leicester City is a former league champion, so it’s not like these are two teams about to be relegated. What’s the deal knuckleheads? Make it easier to watch matches, or the League will never catch on in the US.

    My facial hair trimmer arrived yesterday. It’s time for the beard to go, but I think I’ll hang on to my moustache. In the old days of my early thirties, I used to grow a beard from Thanksgiving to New Years. On New Year’s Day, I would shave the bread leaving a moustache. That would be an enjoyable month, but the moustache’s end would come after the Super Bowl. Why the Super Bowl? No reason, it just seemed like a good idea. Point being, moustache will emerge today.

    Yes, I play WORDLE. No, I will not share my score. I am vain and bad at spelling. And sometimes, I have my wife help me, because I didn’t know you could use the same letter twice, like in “ROBOT.” That just feels like cheating. If anyone is looking for me, I will be at the NYTimes playing “Spelling Bee” very badly.

  • Short Story Review: “Fireworks,” by Graham Swift

    (The short story, “Fireworks” by Graham Swift, appeared in the January 17th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Crisis and release. Some people live for it, some thrive in it, but most people try to avoid it. As we are all living in a global crisis, helplessness seems to be a feeling that we are all dealing with, and, in some cases, projecting on others as well. Different characters exemplify these emotions, and reactions in Graham Swift’s short story “Fireworks.” It’s a short short story, even for The New Yorker’s standards, but that isn’t a knock against the piece, as it is a concise and subtle work.

    Plot: The story is set during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the question is if Frank’s daughter’s wedding will happen, or will the world end, and then the after effects of that situation at a neighbor’s bonfire on Guy Fawkes Night.

    I liked this story, for its simplicity and directness of Frank’s experiences. How Frank stayed steady and calm about a positive outcome for the Missile Crisis, and how life would continue. I like how Graham Swift worked in the observation of Frank’s dread of Mondays, but also his relief and focus when that work day was over, as now the rest of the week would be manageable for him. Knowing that Frank was a bombardier in the War, added a nice depth to his character, as Allied aircrews had a high mortality rate. And how it all mixed together at the neighbor’s bonfire, celebrating the foiling of the Gunpowder Plot, which if it hadn’t been stopped, could have plunged England into war and civil strife. Frank’s heroic act is faith, belief that it will be okay, though everything is out of his control. Sure, maybe this wasn’t the most dramatic story I have read, but I don’t think high drama was the point. I felt like this was a story confirming where we are presently, and where we can still end up. And if it does work out, appreciate what you went through to get there.