Category: Short Story Review

  • Short Story Review: “Chance the Cat” by David Means

    (The short story “Chance the Cat” by David Means appeared in the January 22nd, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Bobby Beasley for The New Yorker

    (Edited and Updated on 2/5/24)

    I’m guessing here, but I’ve written close to 100 reviews for my blog. And when I write one, I try to come up with some catchy opening, or hook, or gimmick in the first paragraph to get you, the reader, interested in reading further. The reason I do this is mainly because that’s how I was taught to write essays and critical papers in high school and college. Effective? Yeah, sure. Original? Not really. (Now, watch how I do this.) “Chance the Cat” is such a story that has a hook, a gimmick as one would say, that David Means employees to tell his story.

    What “Chance the Cat” really is, is a deconstructed bittersweet rom-com with a cat and a Secret Service agent, which employees the gimmick of starting each section/paragraph by asking “Does it matter…” or stating “What mattered was…” or some other variant of the aforementioned questions/statement. Of the 49 section/paragraphs, only 5 do not use this hook. There must be a reason for this, right? Those 5 parts must contain some weight to them, because dramatically, when a pattern is created in the narrative, inevitable it will be broken for effect. I am not faulting Means for this structure in his storytelling, merely identifying it.

    I bring all of this up because, as I said earlier, the story is a com-com. There is a meet cute, a budding relationship, a jointly cared for cat, a break up, and then the melancholy remembrance of the time shared. There are jumps in time, as the story doesn’t follow a linear format, which works well with the bittersweet tone of the story. I enjoyed how the story played with how disparate people come together, the crutch they use to stay together, in this story the cat, and how as time passes, it still isn’t clear how one should deal with those emotions from that time together. Using the “Does it matter…” “What mattered…” gimmick plays very well into that theme.

    Did I mention the Secret Service agent? Yeah… this is the only issue I had with the story. (Well, it was a little long in parts…) You see, this couple lives down the street from the Obama’s in Chicago, and as such, there are Secret Service agents on the block checking people who live there as they come and go. Being that this information is essential to the breakup and the climax to the story, I found it an odd decision to share this with us about 2/3 way through the piece. A good amount of time is spent on this agent, whose purpose in the narrative is only to annoy the guy so he loses the cat. That’s it. The agent doesn’t weigh on the girl’s mind years later, nor is there some sort of connection between the girl and the agent, which I thought would happen as it would play into the complication of the central relationship. That was just me hoping for something to justify the agents existence.

    I try very hard not to impose what I want to see happen in a story, but only to analyze and critically examine what the writer has presented to the reader. I kind’a fudged this one. In my defense, except for one character choice, I did enjoy “Chance the Cat.” I enjoyed the structure David Means created to tell this story, and there are many details that layered and deepened the central characters. But that agent…

    (And then I got an anonymous comment this morning telling me that the story was about race, and how it was mind boggling that I could miss that. At first I left a quip about boggling minds, thanked the person for their comment, and asked what they thought the Agent represented.

    I went about my day, but that comment kept poking at the back of my head. Was the story all about race? Could that be right? And if that was true, did I honestly completely miss that?

    So, I went back and reread the story… and I took a whiff on this one.

    And I’m embarrassed by that.

    Rereading the piece, I now see what I missed and glossed over. Especially William’s reaction to the agent stopping him.

    Something still doesn’t sit right with me when it comes to this story. I will stick with my original reaction of the Obama’s being down the street, along with the introduction of the Agent, 2/3rds of the way through the story. That Agent and all of his passages still feel odd to me; not fitting in with the rest of the flow of the story.

    But I think the bigger question in all of this, is why did I whiff so hard on this piece? What I wrote in the last paragraph of my original review reveals everything, and shows my mistake. As I reread the piece, I began to discover how I had errored; I didn’t critically analyze what David Means presented, but started to impose in my mind what I wanted the story to be and glossed over what didn’t fit in with my judgement. I got caught up in thinking I knew better. That was my mistake. I want to own up to, and promise to do better.

    Also, I want to thank the anonymous commenter who did an appropriate job of smacking me upside the head.)

  • Short Story Review: “The Beach House” by Joy Williams

    (The short story “The Beach House” by Joy Williams appeared in the January 15, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I will SPOIL this story.)

    Illustration by Mia Bergeron

    Of all the storytelling tricks that are out there, the “MacGuffin” is my favorite. If you don’t know, a MacGuffin in a story is any object, device, or person that is essential to the plot and motivation of the characters. Think of the Ark in Raiders of the Lost Ark; it’s the object everyone wants and is also what drives the plot. And the beach house in Joy Williams “The Beach House” is a MacGuffin, but the rest of the story doesn’t play along.

    So, in the story, Amber’s elderly father is near death, and he owns a beach house which he is planning on willing to a charity that save dogs. Amber finds this charity suspicious, but more importantly, if the house is not willed to her after her father’s death, she will be homeless. This is about as textbook as you can get with a plot, and motivation and the whole thing. He wants one thing, she wants another, and the stakes are high as she has a desperate need to get her hands on this beach house.

    But this story never seems to get its dramatic act together. It plods along with little urgency. Amber seems resigned to talk about her plight, but never take action. And the father, though its hinted at that he might be suffering from early dementia, doesn’t seem very interested in his daughters situation of near homelessness. I feel that there are other issues simmering under the surface between these two, but I also think I am giving the story the benefit of the doubt here. When the climax of the piece occurs, the father falls and the daughter wants to take him to the hospital, it in no way affects the plot, the motivations, or the MacGuffin. Nothing is resolved or concluded with this action – the issue of the beach house is still there.

    It’s not a badly written piece, but the aftertaste I am left with is that “The Beach House” might be the first chapter of a novel. Again, all the pieces are here for a good story, and like I also pointed out, there seems to be a subtext between the characters that could be richly explored. But, with the story in this state, Williams introduced a gun and then didn’t fire it.

  • Best of 2023 – Short Story Review: “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss

    (The short story “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss appeared in the May 22nd, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I’m gun’na try not to, but beware of SPOILERS!)

    Illustration by Javi Aznarez

    There are no rules to writing. None. Whoever told you that you had to write in a certain way was lying to you. You can write whatever you want, about anything you want… provided you are good at it.

    Such as, you can’t start a story with a huge run-on sentence, and then spend the next couple of paragraphs just describing things with no narrative direction.

    Sure you can. Nicole Krauss did it in her story “Long Island.”

    Maybe it was supposed to be a “memory” story, because it’s not like this was stream of consciousness, but the story had the feeling of a memoir, what life was like out on Long Island in the late 70’s. This is a story of memory, experience, and all stirred up with a healthy bit of reflection and comparison.

    I enjoyed this piece of fictional nostalgia; of a time and a place that will not exist anymore. An upper middle-class family that lived in Sutton Place, who bought and renovated an estate on a hill, and then moved into this suburban world. There is nothing normal or average about this family – they are privileged due to their money, but are presented here as normal, mainstream and as average as anyone else. But when you are a kid, you just assume the way you live is that – normal, and like everyone else. Krauss doesn’t labor this point, but only on reflection of this story, did it dawn on me. This story lulled me, and I enjoyed that aspect.

    I like how the excuse to leave New York City for the suburbs was to escape the crime in the city. Yet, the neighborhood they moved into is filled with criminals. At least the socially acceptable gossipy kind of criminals who commit their crimes behind closed doors, and are dutifully punished. Yet, the narrator understands that this just the crime they know about.

    I was entertained by this story. This wasn’t life changing fiction, but it didn’t waste my time. I like how Krauss compared her disinterested parents parenting with her generations over parenting, and how neither system seems to be creating better children. Yet both generation of parents tried in their own ways to keep the evils of the world at bay. In the end, a form of evil always found its way in.

    Nicole Krauss crafted a story that didn’t follow the hero cycle, or a traditional plot/climax formula. What functioned as the rise in action/climax made sense with the story’s logic, which worked well to give the piece a release of tension that created the felling of resolution. Now, it did have a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” last paragraph, which I don’t want to say too much about as to not spoil the story, but I don’t think it added anything to the ending or point of the story. But that’s my only criticism here.

    In the end, “Long Island” played with form and story, and kept me engaged and on my toes. And it made me think about parents and how they tried their best. And it also reminded me that when you are a good writer, there are no rules if you can tell a good story.

    *  “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a clichéd writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”

  • Best of 2023 – Short Story Review: “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari (Translated, from the Italian, by Brian Robert Moore.)

    (The short story “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari appeared in the May 29th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (This story will be SPOILED, so beware!)

    Illustration by Guido Scarabottolo

    The old “losing your ball over the fence” story. It’s nice to know that boys in other countries have this issue as well. Seems like most kids grow up with this situation – the ball goes over the fence, and it is never seen again. Then the imagination takes over allowing wild stories to be created of the owner of the yard, and their dark evil soul, for only the vilest of humans would refuse to return a ball. I would say, “The Sandlot” comes to mind for most people when you talk about this situation. And it is a wonderful premise/structure/metaphor to address youth, nostalgia, coming of age, and a host of other ideas that writers have when they create stories about boys.

    Michele Mari’s story, “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz,” in essence is no different. Here the boys are in a boarding school playing soccer, and one of their goals abuts against a wall that belongs to Mr. Kurz’s backyard. When a soccer ball goes over the wall, Mr. Kurz, though polite about it, does not return the ball. Out of complete frustration, the boys hatch a plan to send one of their own over the wall to retrieve the balls.

    Though a predictable plot, Mari’s story does rise above the cliché. This narrative exists in a world of nostalgia, and I wouldn’t say the narrator is unreliable, but he does take some liberties with the truth, and in a very funny speech given by one of the boys, acknowledges this liberty. What this creates is a very charming world that these boys exist in, where their desire to have a fair and regular soccer match becomes the most important concern in their lives.

    I did have two minor issues with the story. First was the delivery of backstory, especially the rules that govern how the boys acquire new soccer balls. Most of this story, information is given directly to the reader from the narrator, but in this one situation, the boys explain the rules to each other. It felt clunky, and didn’t fit with the overall flow of the story. The second, and this is very nit-picky, is that I don’t know a single European male who speaks English that calls “soccer” soccer; it’s football. In Italy, the term is “calcio” which means “kick.” This makes me believe that this was a translation decision. Soccer is an American used term, and in this setting, it left a taste in my mouth that the story was “Americanized.”

    Now, what drew me in with this story was the well-executed climax. One of the boys does go over the wall late at night/early morning only to discover what Mr. Kurz has been doing to the balls, as well as how he spends his time in that yard. I’m trying to not spoil this, so forgive my vagueness, but when this boy receives a new ball from his father, and does what he does with it, all of the threads of this story are tied nicely together. I appreciated that Mari used that final moment to show this boy’s new understanding of the world. How the boy was essentially still the same, but his viewpoint of the world had expanded. That this boy knows he is now part of a moment in time.

  • Best of 2023 – Short Story Review: “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas

    (The short story “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas appeared in the July 10 & 17, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (SPOILERS AHEAD!)

    Photograph by Ryan Frigillana for The New Yorker

    I loved it.

    It was much better than The Lottery.

    I going to read it, again and again.