Category: Art

  • Short Story Review: “Consolation” by Andre Alexis

    (The short story “Consolation” by Andre Alexis appeared in the May 20th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by André Derainne

    If you have read any of my reviews, then you know that I am a sucker for a story about death, especially if it’s a story dealing with the death of a parent. “Consolation” by Andre Alexis is such a story, as it deals with the death of both the narrator’s parents, but it is also about how parents’ shame can affect their children, can affect a marriage, and can affect the community they live in.

    The piece begins with the narrator telling how he got in an argument with his elderly mother over driving directions, and the narrator was so hurt but his mother’s anger, that he didn’t speak to her for two years. Only when they reconciled, did the narrator learn that his mother had dementia, and most likely the fight was a precursor of her disease. This leads the narrator to recount the death of his father, which happened a decade earlier, and though we feel that the son loves his father, we also learn that the father was a serial philanderer, thrice divorced, and despised by the narrator’s mother for the infidelity. Then the narrator tells us the story of his father, who was born in poverty in Trinidad, worked his way up and out by becoming a doctor, and then married the woman who would become the narrator’s mother. Together, they started a family, and moved to Canada, to a small all white town, where the father dealt with the indignity of the town’s prejudice, to become a respected member of the community. It is also the place where the father’s infidelities began to be noticed, and affect the family.

    This is a well thought out, and written, short story. The characters are compelling. The family dynamic is honest, complicated, and uncomfortable. It’s paced well, has a very unique climax, and I just didn’t like this story when everything is telling me that I should. I have been thinking about, and thinking about it, and I should like this, but something just feels off to me. And today, it came to me; it’s passion. Which is even more striking as there is a paragraph in this story that is about passion – between the father and another woman, and the son realizing that this moment of discovering this passion lead him to his career as a lawyer. That this is a story about passions, between lovers, between family members, how they can spark trust and betrayals. Yet, I found the narration less than passionate, which I can only say was done on purpose. This passionless narration juxtaposed with these lives driven by different forms of passion which elicit reactions of shame, desire, and anger. I go back to the start of the story and the narrator describing the argument he had with his mother. The way it is described is almost clinical, factual, without any hint of what the narrator was feeling. It is an event that is only described and not felt. I get the decision to write this story in this way, to make the point that is needed for it to have its conclusion. This artistic choice left me feeling divorced from the emotions of these characters, which explains why I couldn’t connect with the story.

    I will fully admit that I am the odd man out here. I can totally understand why people will love this story, and be dumbfounded by my inability to relate to this piece. Yes, it’s me, and it is not Andre Alexis. You should read this story, enjoy it greatly, and then shake your head at me for not getting this story.

  • Today’s Sketchbook Entry

    Today’s sketch is based off a painting by Gabriele Munter.

    Crayon, Pencil, Marker on Paper

  • Why Did I Get Tangled Up in Blue?

    Something happened to me over the past couple of years, where if I go shopping for clothes, I want to buy the color blue. I especially like the color navy, but wouldn’t pass up the blue of an oxford style button down shirt. The bluer the blue jeans, the better, and I’m even thinking about getting a blue suit for a wedding I’m supposed to attend. I’m even starting to like the look of khaki pants, and a blue shirt, but swear to God, if I add a puffer vest to that look, you should walk up to me and slap the hell outta my face… unless I’m working undercover as a “Finance Bro.”

    I’m not sure why this is happening, but I know that it is.

    I thought that it could be a reflection of my mental state, but I feel neither depressed, nor calm and relaxed.

    I started putting on my old army coat when I have a blue shirt on. I would like to believe that I look like Quint, but I know that’s not true.

    Is this a middle age thing? Does blue help me stand out, or blend in?

    And if the blue is in a plaid pattern, good lord, I have to own it.

    I have blue pajamas. A navy blue ballcap. My car is blue, but the wife did pick it out, but still…

    There was a time when I wore a lot of black, but that was my pretentious artists phase, which coincided with my stage crew phase.

    Maybe I’ll grow out of it. Maybe I move into a paisley phase.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Tottenham Woes, Submitting, and Ice Cream

    (The past wasn’t that good, and the future isn’t that bad…)

    Though I hate to admit this, I think it is time to say out loud that Tottenham will not make it to the Champions League next season. Ange Postecoglou has done a very good job with turning the team around and stopping the slide to a middle of the table team. And this was going to be a hard season, as it was the first without Harry Kane. But with 7 points behind Aston Villa, and matches against Liverpool and Man City yet to come, the odds are severely stacked against the team. No Champions League for next season, but there will be a birth in the Europa League. But hey, this was a better year, and next year will have extra competition, and more chances for trophies.

    Not on purpose, but I roundabout took the month of April off when it came to submitting stories. But I am coming back for the month of May. I’ve sent out four submissions thus far, and in the back of my head, I have a good feeling that I accidently messed up on somebody’s submission guidelines. Like, I didn’t put the page number in the correct corner. One time, I sent out a story and misspelled the editor’s name in the cover letter. Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.

    And it is true, ice cream does make everything better. Are you having an awful day? Have some ice cream. It won’t solve any problems, but it does make you feel better. And out of all the wonderful joys and experiences I have had with becoming a father, getting ice cream with my daughter is damn near one of the best.

  • Paul Auster (1947 – 2024)

    I read the news today that Paul Auster had passed away. Kind’a always thought that Paul Auster would just be hanging around forever. Somewhere in Brooklyn, scribbling away, and walking around. I don’t know if any of that is true, it’s just what I expected.

    I first read Paul Auster in 1997 or 1998, and the book was Hand to Mouth: A Chronicle of Early Failure. I’m not 100% sure how this book came to me, but I’m pretty sure it was a Christmas gift from my parents. Maybe I put it on a list, but for whatever reason, it was the right book at the right time. For you see, I had just dropped out of college to peruse my career as a writer/artist, and then I read this book, wherein Paul Auster is pretty much telling me that I have ten awful years of struggle, disappointment, and failure headed my way. But he told it is such a funny and depressing way that, for all the wrong reasons, this book inspired me to continue following my path in the arts. And also, to read as many books by Paul Auster as possible.

    I had hoped to have met him one day. Not to have a conversation, or tell him how much I enjoyed his work. No, I just wanted to say “hi” to him on the street, like neighbors. And that’s the other great thing that Paul gave to me; he presented New York City (Brooklyn, actually) as this great place to meet and make friends with people who are nothing like you. There are all kinds of great things about the City, that artists have been talking about for years (the arts, nightlife, money, danger, excitement, scandal…) but he always gave me this feeling that, yes those things are here, but the people of this place, these characters of the City, are what makes this place magical.

    The other thing that I loved about Paul Auster was that the guy just wrote all the time, and produced so much work. This is the “hard working American” side of me that still sees production as one of the measuring sticks of artistic excellence. He created nonstop. He tried things, and sure, maybe not all of it was The New York Trilogy, but I have respect for the people out there that keep trying something new and producing.

    So I guess, thanks Paul Auster. Thanks for trying to talk me out of being creative.