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  • Short Story Review: “Returns” by Annie Ernaux (Translated from the French, by Deborah Treisman.)

    (The short story “Returns” by Annie Ernaux appeared in the November 14th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Yes, I will SPOIL this story.)

    Illustration by Sébastien Plassard

    The New Yorker publishing a shorty story by Annie Ernaux for this issues, is the equivalent of a company softball team bringing in a ringer to bat cleanup; Like this story was going to be bad. Such is the world of publishing a Nobel Prize winner writer.

    But why was it good?

    The story is simple, or, more like, is direct and to the point. Plot wise; Daughter comes to visit her elderly mother who lives alone. But the first sentence sets the tone for the piece succinctly:

    The last time I saw my mother at her home, it was July, a Sunday.

    Immediately, there is a feeling of sadness, mourning, even regret, coupled with Summer and a feeling of relaxation as it is a Sunday. We are loaded with emotional information that only us and the writer know. We have been made a confidant as well as a witness as to what will follow.

    The story is told in three sections, three acts. The first, the introduction of the setting and characters, as well as showing that there is some awkwardness between the mother and visiting daughter. The second section goes deeper into the awkwardness between mother and daughter, showing that the teenaged years were difficult and filled with fights and screaming. These are two people trying to make amends; the mother wanting to daughter to stay longer – offering gooseberries -, but the daughter is willing to leave early if the conversation lags. And the third section, the narrator acknowledges that the mother has no power over her anymore. The memories of the narrator’s former life come back to her, again showing that she was unhappy there, and wanted to leave. Then a stray cat arrives, which the mother feeds and allows to stay, and for a short time the mother and daughter find a subject of conversation. And then the climax, the daughter goes to leave, but the mother gives her a form she needs help filling out, but the daughter refuses to do it at that time. The daughter promises to fill it out and send it back to her mother at a later date, which upsets the mother. Then the narrator describes leaving the town, and how the places fade behind her in the distance. Finally, we learn the mother soon suffers sunstroke and is admitted to the local hospital. When the daughter returns to the home, she finds the gooseberries in the refrigerator that she forgot to take, but now the berries are spoiled and brown, liquid lump.

    This story flows easily like water in a stream; it gently takes you where it wants to go. It moves so well, that all the little tricks to elicit an emotional response are but ripples on the narrative. We know that death is coming from the first line, and short stories love dealing with death, but Ernaux talks about death by not saying death. It is hinted and lingers in the background of what is to follow. As the story continues, there is the tension between the mother and daughter, shown by the slight bickering about locking the front door. Moving deeper in, we learn the reasons for this tension, knowing that this is not something that is easily overcome. But these two don’t hate each other, as when the cat arrives, we see that they can connect and share. But as we know, all visits must end, and we see how the mother tries to prolong their time. By this point, we understand each characters motivations, what they want, and how they cannot give the other what they need. The melancholy comes through these passages. These are the last moments, and this last interaction isn’t acrimonious, but also not affectionate either. This is the parting one has when you believe there will be another Sunday, and another chance to make up for lost time. It is all implied, and never directly spoken. And as the daughter rides the train home, and she does love her mother, from her description of leaving, we know that she doesn’t want to be there. And when the end of the story arrives, as we knew it would, the gooseberries in the fridge serve as the button for the story; the lost opportunity that withered and died.

    In talented hands, storytelling seems so simple and effortless. Breaking this story down, examining it, it’s like I can hear the important notes that Ernaux is hitting in the middle of this melody of a story. It is impressive, this level of skill.

    Annie Ernaux doesn’t need my endorsement, but she is a ringer.

    (Speaking of which; Yes, that’s right; Speaking of which, if you have enjoyed what you read, take a moment to give a like, or a share, leave a comment, or follow this blog. Not only does it help my standing, but it will help agents verify that I have a following.)

  • Personal Review: The Great British Baking Show Season 13

    During the Pandemic, we were limited on shows we could binge watch as a family. Our daughter was five at the time, and I had reached my limit with how many times I could marathon through all the seasons of Doc McStuffins. My wife, in a stroke of brilliance, brought “The Great British Baking Show” (or “The Great British Bake Off” in the UK) to our attention.

    At the time, back in 2020, I believe that Netflix was carrying Season 4 through 10, and we tried to regulate our intake of the program by just watching one episode a day. Within three months, we had made it through all the episodes, which created a powerful anticipation for season 11. In fact, we still eagerly await each new season, as it is one of the few shows everyone in our family can agree on.

    Clearly I have opinions, as why else would I be writing this. I prefer Mary Berry, and that is not a knock against Prue Leith. The show tries to make Paul Hollywood the “bad guy,” and he can be very critical, but he really does champion the contestants, and encourages them to do their best. As for the hosts; give me Noel and Sandi. Every other combination is just annoying. But what makes the show for me are the contestants and, most importantly, the baking challenges.  

    What makes The Great British Bake Off so addictive for me is that it is the anti-reality show, or anti-gameshow, depending how you categorize it. Here, the contestants are shown becoming friends, supporting each other, in some cases even helping each other finish a challenge. Sure, competition will naturally create a winner and a loser, but GBBO makes the point of showing the good sportsmanship of celebrating each weeks Star Baker, and also showing the sadness and disappointment all the contestants feel when someone is sent home. One of the best parts about the show is at the end of the final episode when the contestants are shown as friends hanging out with each other, visiting, and baking together.

    Now, I’m not completely naïve, as this is a television program, and things are edited and shown in a way to get a certain reaction from the audience. I am sure the way I react to the show is the desired outcome. So, I have to ask myself: Do all the bakers become friends? Do they all stay close, and visit each other? Maybe not, but I really want to believe that they do. I want to believe that a bunch of complete strangers, who normally would have nothing to do with each other, as they are so different from one another, actually would find common ground with baking, and that could be the launching pad for great and enduring friendships to be forged.

    Which bring us to our current season; Season 13. Unlucky 13. Yes, GBBO is starting to show some cracks in the veneer. What is cracking is the bake challenges. The bakes were always the strong tent pole that the rest of the show was built around. From asking the bakers to make brownies, which they all failed miserable at, to the legendary “Bread Lion” that even Paul admitted would have tested his skills to recreate. The bakes were the great equalizer of the show, and not necessarily between contestants, but between contestants and audience. The contestants are home/amateur bakers, so there is always that little tiny feeling, though wildly incorrect, that I could bake that. Sadly, Season 13 has lost sight of what makes a good bake.

    The much maligned, and rightfully so, Mexican Week was the final straw. What did making, as Paul would say, “tack-o’s” have to do with baking? And a very simple Google search would show you that a tres leches cake is not meant to be stacked. AND conchas are meant to be dry. This basic lack of understanding of what makes Mexican baking delicious and exquisite, is such an unforced error of the show not doing its homework, that it is almost unforgivable.

    Yet, looking back on past seasons, a stumble like this was foreshadowed. There was Season 11’s Babka challenge, which sadly showed that the judges weren’t fully aware of what they were judging. And if you really examine the show, you can see that Season 9’s Final Technical Challenge of campfire pita bread was a meaningless gimmick, that had nothing to do with baking, didn’t test the contestants, and set them up to fail. For a show that had consistently put their contestants in situations which were challenging, but ultimately, allowed the bakers to excel, the pita bread incident seemed rather meanspirited.

    Hope is not lost for GBBO, as they can right the ship. First, don’t change what is working; Paul and Prue make a good team of judges, so leave that alone. Also, the casting for the show has remained wonderful by bringing in a wide range of ages, and people who make up the modern multicultural UK. As for changes, it might be time for Matt Lucas to go, as he seems to be annoying the bakers more than being their supporter. And finally, the show should get back to classic bakes, and ditch the “theme weeks.” You know; cakes, biscuits, bread, deserts, chocolate, pastry, patisserie. Test the bakers skills, and don’t try to throw them off with stunts.

    I can say this, even if GBBO doesn’t change, I’m still going to watch it. There is still a wide gulf between to GBBO and the host of faked competition baking shows that dot the landscape which seemed geared to celebrate conflict rather than skill. I will say this; GBBO did have a positive effect on our family, as my wife and daughter started baking together. As we get closer to Thanksgiving, they will set about making a Sheppard’s pie, and most assuredly, my daughter knows to check for a soggy bottom on that bake.

    (Wow! This was a long one! But you made it to the end. If I could ask one more favor of you; please take a moment to like, comment, share, or follow this blog. If I could, I would give you a handshake for it.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: World Cup, Lawsuits, and Reading

    (I Believe That We Will Win!)

    So, the World Cup is almost here, and yes, I am excited about it. I have kept my promise of not blogging non-stop about Tottenham, (even though they have been playing like gash, yet still did make it out of the group stage in the Champions League – but that is a blog for another day) and as the World Cup is about to begin, I will be writing about it. The teams I will be watching are Team USA because you support your home country, Mexico as they have good teams that never deliver and their fans are the best, and England. In fact, The English National Team released a video announcing their team lineup that I thought was rather original:

    Now, I woke up this morning to the news that a Texas Federal has ruled the Biden-Harris Student Loan Forgiveness plan unconstitutional. The lawsuit was filed by a group called Job Creators Network Foundation, which is an organization that was founded by the billionaire and former CEO of Home Depot, Bernard Marcus. What I find the most interesting about Marcus, and this whole situation, is that if you read his bio, after graduating high school, he wanted to be a doctor, but couldn’t afford college, so he went to a state school – Rutgers – back when college was funded by the government, making it affordable for working class kids from Newark in 1947. Added on top of that, I can find no evidence of Marcus fighting against the Federal Government cutting his taxes back in 2017. I mean, Marcus owed taxes, but then Trump passed a law and forgave what he owed, in essence. I love how hypocritical the uber-wealthy are. And they wonder why no one likes them.

    Did you know the average American reads 13 books a year? I was actually surprised by that number, as I thought it would be much lower. I have a feeling there are a few people out there that are reading way more than 13 books a year, which is pushing the number up, and I would like to thank those people for helping make America seem more literate.

    (Say! Thanks for reading this blog. If you like what you ready, please take a moment to give a like, or share this post, leave a comment, or start following this blog. Thanks for your help.)

  • Thoughts While Alt Side Parking: Rejection

    First of all, it’s cold out. Second, the car that is parked in front of me is like six inches from my bumper, which does hack me off. And third, the traffic cop is here to write tickets, he’s checking cars, but he’s not writing tickets. All of this is very strange to me.

    Seriously, the cop just made a second pass, and he’s still not writing tickets. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not rooting for the guy to write tickets, but if your job is to write tickets, then why aren’t you doing your job? And, we’re all watching him not do his job.

    Anyway, I go that off my chest.

    I got rejected from my fifteenth magazine yesterday. I have one more submission that is floating out there, but being that this piece has been rejected seven other times, odds don’t seem to be good. BUT, I do have three other magazines lined up that I am planning on submitting to, which I will hopefully send off this weekend. I had wanted to get something published this year. Anything, anywhere would have been fine, but you know, things don’t always work out.

    With the situation I am in, the lack of publication, I have been trying to do a round of honest circumspection of my efforts, and see where I need to improve and make changes.

    First of all, I need more material. The last five months of the year I have not been as productive as the first six months. That includes not only creating new work, but also rewriting and editing. Though I am confident in what I have written, I do think the beginning of my stories could use a little more work – refining to better get the story started. I also subscribe to the John Lennon theory of writing – “You got to write a lot of bad songs first before you start writing good songs.” I may still be in my bad song phase.

    Second, I don’ think I submitted to enough publications. Well, I don’t think that, I know that. Just twenty-ish submissions in a year is too low. I should have put more of a priority on researching publications, and prioritizing who I felt would work best with what I write. (This process does feel a bit like throwing shit on a wall, and seeing what sticks.) Funny thing is that this part of the process reminds me the most of my acting days back in Dallas. I really love rehearsing, and performing, but I hate auditioning. So, submitting is paralleling auditioning in my mind, as these are the least fun parts of both processes. Yet, I went on a ton of auditions in Dallas, and I got rejected more than cast, but I did get cast a lot, because I went on so many auditions. I just have to remind myself of that; you got to show up if you want to be seen.

    Third, I just need to relax. Maybe something will come from all of this work. Maybe nothing will happen. But all of this does give me the felling of purpose, which I haven’t had in a while. I don’t wake up angry or dreading the day. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe I’m lying to myself to think that some unemployed forty-five-year-old guy can just up a start a new career in a creative field that is notorious for being highly unfair, and for those who do “make it” is laughably under compensated. But this delusion has made not as angry at the world. It’s helped me process the passing of my mother, and deal with all of the Covid anxiety. That’s worth something.

    Anyway, I have room to grow, and I also need to do better. Like all things in life, if you want it, it takes hard work. I just need to relax and work harder.

    That was a decent pep talk.

    And just so you know, that cop came by again, and still didn’t write any tickets.

    (So, umm… You know, if you are enjoying this narcissistic delve into my id this morning, then please, by all means, give this blog a like, or share, or comment on your struggles. And I’m open to follows as well.)

  • Short Story Review: “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle

    (The short story “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle appeared in the November 7th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Spoilers, I guess)

    (Photograph by Jacob Mitchell for The New Yorker)

    Well… Stories like “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle make me feel like an asshole. I’m going to have criticisms about this story that will seem to total up to a negative review. But I don’t dislike this story, I think people should read it, Coraghessan is a talented writer, yet there are issues that I can’t ignore nor rationalize out.

    So, this story is about a young woman drug addict who wanders into an unlocked house and falls asleep in a teenage girl’s room. The single mother, whose house it is, calls the cops and the young woman is arrested. Early the next morning, when the young woman is released by the cops, she wanders into the woods of a nearby park, and discovers the body of a little girl, but the addict doesn’t call the cops for fear that she’s be accused of the murder. The single mother has issues with her teenaged daughter, and after some time passes, the addict wanders back into the house. The End.

    The structure of this story alternates between the addict and then the single mother. It’s close to linear, but some sections do jump ahead in time over the other. It’s an effective form to keep the story moving, but it wasn’t conducive in helping create a sense of climax, conclusion or even catharsis. The addict just keeps being an addict, but now she’s an addict with more guilt for not having come forward about the murdered child. The single mother keeps having a rocky relationship with her teenaged daughter. I would think that by using this structure, we’d come to some point where these two lives interact and bring about some resolution, but that never arrives. Yes, the addict returns back to the home at the end, but the way it’s laid out, it is presented as more of a coincidence, rather than the addict making a choice to look for that home. Also, the dead child seems to be poised to have some influence on the characters, but that also doesn’t amount to anything. Though the addict feels guilty, the guilt doesn’t change her behavior. And even when the single mother recognizes the murdered girl, that also bring about no change. All of these tangents are presented, but none of them add up to anything. And the story doesn’t feel like it’s trying to make a point about how dark and unchanging the world is.

    Now, I did say that I liked this story, and I thought people should read it, and that is still true. I did like the structure and the alternating between the characters. The writing is good, quick, and not overindulgent, which makes the story pull you in. And I was engaged with this story as I was reading it, but as I pointed out above, it stumbled, in my estimation. I guess what the story feels like is the first chapter of a novel, or a first draft of this idea. It either needs to be worked on some more, or it has a bigger story to tell.

    It just needs to choose one and go with it.

    (Why, hello there! I am glad you made it this far, and I would like to ask you to do one more thing for me. Please, take a moment to like this blog. In fact, feel free to comment, share or even follow it as well. The more interaction I get, the more that hole in my soul closes up!)