Category: Art

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

    (The short story “The Pool” by T. Coraghessan Boyle appeared in the September 22nd, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Leanne Shapton

    Here’s an old saying that will live forever; Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And when I hear this line, I contemplate if other words can also show sincere flattery, like – Impression, Takeoff, Parody, Sendup, Reproduction, Inspiration, or Synthesis. While reading T. Coraghessan Boyle’s “The Pool” I began to wonder how much of a debt this story owes to John Cheever’s “The Swimmer,” and should that be interpreted as a form of flattery?

    Now, I’m not the one who originally brought up Cheever. The story did it in the seventh paragraph. Also, “The Pool” is a story that is being published in The New Yorker, and that story references one of Cheever’s most famous stories, “The Swimmer” which was also published in The New Yorker. As such, the preponderance of the evidence leads me to believe that “The Swimmer” is, if nothing else, an influence on this story.

    “The Pool” is about a pool which is a part of a house that is recently purchased by the narrator/protagonist and his wife. They have two kids, and she is pregnant with their third, and final child. From the beginning of the story, there is a concern that a child may drown in the pool, and this foreshadowing comes to fruition when the narrator’s son falls into the pool at their house warming party. Thankfully the child is saved by a family friend, Malcolm, who is helping the narrator to paint the house. This near-death moment is the first of three that happen in the story; the other being a tree branch falling on the narrator’s wife, and the ending with the narrator jumping off the roof into the pool. Nothing bad happens to them, they stay lucky and safe. The same cannot be said for others in the story. Malcolm’s marriage falls apart, a baby opossum falls into the pool, and though rescued with attempts to nurse it back to health, the animal dies. In fact, there is dangerous wildlife just beyond the backyard fence, which the narrator encounters, and chooses not to tell his wife or family about. The narrator seems most concerned about drinking and staying high around his pool as the summer wains on with an almost never-ending round of pool parties at the home.

    And that brings me to my biggest rub; what to make of the narrator/protagonist? I wouldn’t go full blown and call him a narcissist, but he is rather self-absorbed. His children get very few mentions, other than saying they moved to find better schools, and that his wife’s birth control failed three times. His relationship with his pregnant wife seems to be fine, though he doesn’t show or say anything affectionate toward her even in her grand expecting state. Even the birth of their third child feels more like a footnote so the narrator can return home and continue sitting around the pool drinking with Malcolm. As the story progresses, the narrator seems to devolve into a more adolescent state. Having fun at the pool seems to be his only concern. It doesn’t lend itself to a satisfying character arc, because if this was a hero’s journey, then the journey never got started.

    Yet, I kept finding myself being pulled back to “The Swimmer” reference at the start of the story. Is “The Pool” a comment on current life in the suburbs? Is it a comment on men and their need for leisure? Or is it talking about men who fail up in life? Or is this about the aspirational attainment of “the American Dream” and how it can insulate you from the harsh realities of our modern world? I don’t know… I’m just not sure.

    I do want to add that I enjoy T. Coraghessan Boyle’s writing. Reading this story, the prose was compelling, and even urgent in places. There are moments of unease, and tension so the story, and I would say intentionally, feels as if it is settled on uneven ground. That things could shift at any moment. There are no clear lines here, but curves that the tone and themes progress on. It doesn’t follow a pattern, which is refreshing and should be acknowledged.

    I’m glad I read “The Pool” and for making me go look up “The Swimmer” as well. I can’t shake the feeling that “The Pool” is inspired and influenced by “The Swimmer” but still not sure what to make of it. I do recommend that you read it. If for no other reason than to ask, “What do you think it was about?”

  • Earworm Wednesday: It Gets Ya at the Get-Go

    It’s the first 11 seconds of the song.

    But if I may defend for a second…

    It was 1998, and a very good friend of mine let me borrow Wave of Mutilation: Best of Pixies. I knew nothing about Pixies, but as soon as I listened to that album, I pretty much played it non-stop for two months. (I will also admit that another good friend of mine tried to get me to listen to Surfer Rosa a year earlier, but it didn’t take so that doesn’t count.) The first good friend was very proud of themselves for converting me to be a Pixies fan, and my reward was him doing a spot on impression of these first 11 seconds of “Broken Face.” Not only does those 11 seconds get stuck in my head, but I can also see my friend’s face as he sung them to me – usually in his car as he drove us to a bar.

  • My Review of Gabe Montesanti’s “The Signs” in Split Lip Magazine

    Today, Split Lip Magazine published my review of Gabe Montesanti’s prose poetry piece “The Signs.”

    If you have a moment, please check out my review, but if you REALLY have a moment, please read Gabe Montesanti’s very unique poem, which Okay Donkey published back in April of this year.

    Also, I would like to thank everyone over at Split Lip for their help and support, especially Daniel, who guided and edited my piece. It was a lotta fun, and enjoyed the experience.

  • Earworm Wednesday: Always Respect The Reverend

    It’s the way Al Green sings that first line that just gets stuck in my head.

  • Putting the Things on the Walls

    This weekend, the wife and I finally got around to finishing a task we’ve been meaning to do since the start of August; hanging up our art work in the livingroom. See, we painted the livingroom, and got a new hutch for the corner, and to be honest, we really enjoyed looking at our clean and painted walls.

    And through the whole month of August, we really did mean the put all of our stuff up, but something kept happening. Like, the kid had a soccer match, or we had to run and do some last-minute school shopping, or we just enjoyed the clean and painted walls. Did I mention that? Because we started to enjoy the fact that the walls were bare and just painted. But, we did have a corner in the apartment with all of our art work stacked up, and it was like, you know, constantly reminding us that we hadn’t “really” completed the job in the livingroom.

    So, we started putting things up.

    Some were paintings that I did in my early 20’s, and some were artwork that my wife created. I have two paintings that my uncle did, and we have quite a few of the kid’s art work that we framed. And then we have several quirky things that we have collected over the years. Lots to work with.

    The last time we hung art up, about five years ago, we were covering up some holes and cracks in the walls. So, there wasn’t a theme, unless you count covering up stuff was the theme.

    The wife lead the charge on this project. We have a wall that all about cat stuff. Then there is the wall with all the family pictures. There is the spot between the windows for my uncle’s painting. Then we have a spot for all the kid’s artwork, along with a spot for my paintings. The last wall is nothing but random stuff that we have collected together over twenty years.

    And I will say this; it looks good but it is a little weird; but weird in the good way. It reminded me of what one of my really good friends said to me before I left for New York; Don’t be normal, don’t fit in – Be weird.

    I’m trying to live up to that.