Category: Short Story Review

  • Flash Fiction Review: “Rewind” by Cole Beauchamp

    (The flash fiction story “Rewind” by Cole Beauchamp appeared at Lost Balloon on January 7th, 2026.)

    The flash fiction that I love straddles a precarious knife’s edge. On one side is the prose, the other being the poetic, and if they counter balance correctly, a beautiful harmony is created. Reading Cole Beauchamp’s “Rewind” put me right on that the edge’s sweet spot; a tactile narrative countered with an eternal instant.

    The structure of “Rewind” is divided into three section, each beginning with the same first line, “I have something to tell you…” In the first section, a couple is descending down a mountain during a hike while the husband attempts to explain what is implied to be his infidelity, which the wife has no interest in hearing. The section ends with the wife accidently falling off the path, tumbling down, and all goes black, followed by one word: Rewind. The second section takes places in the past, this time the wife is making a special dinner attempting to make up to her husband for all the time that she’s been away. Just as in the first section, the second section concludes with the wife losing her footing and falling, again with all going black; Rewind. The final section takes places the night before their wedding, and them sneaking out to see each other, with the wife stating that they “can’t rewind any further.”

                The three moments selected in “Rewind” are snap shots of this marriage. The first being the only one that I believe takes place in a tactile moment. This marriage is over, even if the husband isn’t aware of it, for the wife knows that she has stopped loving him. When she falls and all goes black, that ushers in the next two section which I will argue take place in her memory, existing in her own eternal instant. The second section is close to a mirror image of the first section; same opening line, the disappoints, to apologies, and the falling. The first was his fault, and now we are being shown how she was an accomplice in the death of this relationship. But the second section acts as a bridge; though it is in the eternal, the language Beauchamp uses is still rooted in factual descriptions. When the third section arrives, the language softens, the poetic is embraced, and thematically, a melancholic tone is embraced which intertwines with the recollection of the past optimism this marriage had.

                No one goes into a marriage thinking that it will fail, and when things go wrong, that initial optimism can feel like it’s a million miles away in a different life. Cole Beauchamp’s “Rewind” played with this theme in a structure that I appreciated for its inventiveness, but most importantly, this was the type of flash fiction that embraced the unique qualities this form can have, which are prose and poetry wrapped tightly together.  

  • Short Story Review: “Process of Elimination” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh

    (The short story “Process of Elimination” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh appeared in the May 4th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Jake Hollings

    There was a moment when I was reading Saïd Sayrafiezadeh’s “Process of Elimination” that I had to ask myself if it was possible to have a reliable narrator in a story who is completely unreliable because of the situation they find themselves in? On one hand, that doesn’t feel so much like a question, but more like an unsolvable literary riddle. But on the other hand, having this conundrum of a narrator kept me on my toes reading this story, happily figuring out which situations were and were not misinterpretations.

    The story follows a guy who unfortunately has the same first name of one of the Boston Marathon bombers, and that terrorist attack plays in the background of the piece. This guy is a recent hire at coffee shop which is located on a university campus in a New England, two states away from Boston. As the story begins, our narrator is informed that he is about the be fired from this job. At first he assumes this termination is due to a missing tip jar, but it is also implied that his name might be part of the reason.

    What I enjoyed about the protagonist is how normally flawed he is as a person. Maybe a little too eager to please, a little lazy, and perhaps prone to “get out over his skis” when it comes to events, but not a bad guy. He does his best in the situation he finds himself in, a minor crisis of employment and unemployment, trying to figure out what events, statements, actions are connected, and what actions he should take next. And when he receives a resolution that he desired months later; he is faced with the fact that he truly didn’t understand all the factors coming into play with his termination. There is a nice O. Henry touch of irony there with his guilt, and a wonderful last line to the story, that gave me a laugh as the narrator had failed up.

    “Process of Elimination” is another solid story from Saïd Sayrafiezadeh in The New Yorker, and I do commend his skill of working in several different tangents to this piece, to build a layered theme, tone, and setting. This wasn’t a “big” dramatic story, and there is a nice mix of humor in this piece as well, but it touches on the dramas and crises that make up our day to day lives which unfold while larger events develop around us; perhaps even unintentionally influencing our actions? Seems like a rather timely story, if you ask me.

  • Personal Review: “First Person Singular” by Haruki Murakami

    I got The Elephant Vanishes when it first came out in the US, and for years I loaned that book out. In fact, I have bought three copies of it, and currently, I will need to go and buy a fourth copy. It makes me happy when I see that one of Haruki Murakami short stories in The New Yorker, and at bookstores, I gravitate to his name in the fiction section, just to see what they have. So, I am a big fan of Haruki Murakami, and for that reason, this personal review will be biased.

    You have been warned.

    I purchased First Person Singular about a year ago, and I am embarrassed to say this, but I read it slowly over the past four months. Normally, I try to read a book, especially one of his, as fast as possible, as I do have a stack of books calling my name. Yet, this time around, this book sat on the end table in my livingroom. Occasionally it would call out to me, but on the whole, I read a story here and there, in a very leisurely way. That’s not to say that the stories weren’t engaging, I just never felt the urge with this collection to finish it now. It was more like, “We’re here when you need us.”

    What I love most about Murakami is how effortlessly he can move between contemporary realism, then switch to surrealism. With other writers who write in these two worlds, it becomes pretty clear as to why they choose these two styles; contemporary realism is the “drama” story, and the surrealism is the “comedy” story. Murakami keeps you on your toes, never sure which will be which. It makes his works fresh and unpredictable.

    First Person Singular is made up of eight stories, and, you guessed it, each story is told in first person singular. It’s a “wink wink, nudge nudge” kind’a title; a little joke which Murakami wants to make sure we’re in on. It is implied, in almost every story, that the first person is Murakami himself, but I am not one to jump on that boat. This is fiction after all, and he wouldn’t be the first writer to create the illusion that what you are reading is actually based on real events. By doing that, creating this illusion of honesty, it makes the stories feel more intimate, and that Murakami is talking to us as a friend.

    I want to take a moment of select three of the stories to highlight. The first is “On a Stone Pillow” which recounts, for lack of a more nuanced description, a one-night stand. But this isn’t a story so much about sex, as it is about intimacy and connection. The two people find themselves yearning after others, but in this one moment find solace in each other. I found their honestly with each other melancholic, and devastating in the ways the heart can love and break. “Confessions of a Shinagawa Monkey” is one of Murakami’s surreal stories, as there is a talking monkey in it. Yet, this was another story on the contemplation of love, and living in a world where you cannot fit in. The last story I want to mention is “The Yakult Swallows

    Poetry Collection,” about the love of following an awful baseball club, and finding creativity in such devotion. It rang very true to me, being a Cubs fan and all.

    What all of these stories, but these three especially, hammered home to me was the different forms love and connection can take. The moments that we share with people, some fleeting, some for a lifetime, and how they can affect us for years to come. The skill that Murakami displays as a writer is giving these characters an emotional weight in their worlds, which in some cases elevates them to understandings, and others pulls down into listlessness. Murakami does this by creating a tone, and a very specific mood, which is not unlike music. (Which is funny because other stories in this collection revolve around music.)

    It does make me wonder, as First Person Singular was written in Japanese (props to Philip Gabriel’s translation) how all of these touches and folds of nuances play out in its original language? It a question of pure curiosity, and not one that I actually need answered. I wonder this because, Murakami’s work makes me feel that the world he creates is a place of quiet contemplation, and internalizing the events that make up our lives. That to live and experience life is a gift on its own. Then to take those experiences, digest and acknowledge them, appreciate them, is another gift we receive in this world.

    Maybe, in a weird way, I read First Person Singular the way Haruki Murakami intended me to. I took my time, didn’t rush it, and allowed myself to enjoy at my own pace, so I could contemplate it at my own speed.

  • Short Story Review: “A Private View” by Douglas Stuart

    (The short story “A Private View” by Douglas Stuart appeared in the April 20th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Karolis Strautniekas

    Douglas Stuart’s “A Private View” reminds me of the short stories that The New Yorker used to publish back in the 50’s and 60’s. (This is meant as a compliment, FYI…) Those stories of old were all set in fabulously wonderful Manhattan, the characters had fascinating jobs in the arts, the stories took place in some social event or interaction, and everybody had lots of baggage. There was a strange comfortability in those old short stories, yet I would never call them predictable, as they seemed to project a New Yorker contemporary literary ideal. In this light, reading “A Private View” was the equivalent of reading on a rainy day in a warm sweater drinking a cup of coffee.

    This was a story that did lull me in. Perhaps I should admit that I am a sucker for stories about mothers and sons. The more troubled the better, and for that reason, I wasn’t paying strict attention to the story, and just let it easily roll and unfold before me. Also, with characters that were from Texas, it was almost too much up my alley.

    With all of that, I still have to say that I appreciated that this was a story that wasn’t afraid to take it’s time, flesh out the characters, and sprinkle the little clues on the edges of the frame. I also enjoyed Stuart’s use of the art show and the sculptures of the stations of the cross, and his descriptions of the contemporary figures that were worked in. It played wonderful with the theme of the story, and also provided a very fertile Gen-X visual vocabulary of childhood characters that still seem to flourish in the imaginations of people of a certain age.

    But what struck me as the most honest and true aspect of the story was the relationship between mother and son, and the satellite of the sister as well. It was palatable how uncomfortable all these relationships were with each other, and also understandable why each of the siblings made the choices that they did. One couldn’t stand to be disappointed anymore, and the other couldn’t let go. Perhaps the son was closer in personality to his mother, or perhaps the sister made her decision to let go, and the son had to hold on.

    I am keeping this review vague as I don’t want to give away anything in this story, but clearly I feel you should read it. Especially read it as Stuart does an excellent job with the climax, and the dénouement. Though heartbreaking, I found protagonist decision at the end of the story melancholy in its acknowledgement of the truth. A truth was needed, for this hero had been on this journey for some time, and it was time for him to move on.

  • Short Story Review: “Rate Your Happiness” by Catherine Lacey

    (The short story “Rate Your Happiness” by Catherine Lacey appeared in the April 13th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Tobias Nicolai

    When I finished reading Catherine Lacey’s “Rate Your Happiness” I was reminded of driving a car with a manual transmission. Especially when you don’t put the car in gear and still step on the gas which causes the engine to rev really high, but you don’t go anywhere. In this story, the narrator calls this “meaningless motion” and they’re right. And it’s also very frustrating.

    I understand that the theme of this story was existing in atrophy, and motion that leads to nowhere. Unfortunately, having a protagonist that doesn’t make a decision or choice leaves the ending of the story empty and unsatisfying. There is one sentence in the last paragraph which I think attempts to bring about a conclusion: “Louise returned to the street with real intent, finally carrying her contradictory desires with total clarity…” but I have to say that this sentence is being asking to do a whole lot of heavy lifting for this story. It implies that Louise has made a choice to accept who she is when it comes to how she has reacted to the situations the story has presented. Yet, is it truly a choice when the character is only acknowledging that they don’t make choices? Though an interesting philosophical question, it doesn’t work narratively.

    What “Rate Your Happiness” presents is something that feels akin to the first one or two chapters of a novel. There are a lot of moving parts here, and Lacy does a good job of balancing them in the narrative. No one idea, theme, or character dominates, and it all flows and ripples over each other creating the feeling of a very real and complicated character in the protagonist of Louise. In fact, I enjoyed all the characters that were presented in this story, and wanted to see and hear more from them.

    Like I said, if this was the first chapter of a novel, I’m hooked and I want to see how this plays out. As a short story, the engine is revving up, but we didn’t go anywhere.