Category: Writing

  • Short Story Review: “Keuka Lake” by Joseph O’Neill

    (The short story “Keuka Lake” by Joseph O’Neill appeared in the March 3rd, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Annie Collinge for The New Yorker

    I don’t know if you know this, but grief is a really popular theme for short stories. (That and bad relationships with parents, but that’s a story for another day.) Grief lends itself easily to the dramatic, and is also individualistic, and it can also be shocking as to what emotions and memories it will bring up. Everyone grieves differently, and maybe I was a little flippant at the start of this, because maybe my past grief still makes me uncomfortable.  Parts of “Keuka Lake” tapped on my past grief, but in the end Joseph O’Neill’s story meandered, leaving an unsteady feeling to the work.

    The story starts off with a banger of a first paragraph, letting us know that Nadia, the protagonist, has been involved with someone from a teenager to the day she became a widower at fifty-four. Her husband was killed in a car crash near a town in the Finger Lakes, and Nadia never knew why her husband was driving up there. And then the story just flutters about. We follow Nadia to a visit to her sister on Montreal, and then an early return to the States, where she gets a speeding ticket. She then looks up a former boyfriend, who is a lawyer, to take care of the ticket, and though she never sees the lawyer, Nadia engages his secretary to look into the reasons why her husband was in the Finger Lakes.

    I say that the story “meanders” and “flutters” because the story never feels like it takes anyone seriously. The tone that is taken towards everyone that isn’t Nadia is condescending and rather dismissive. I understand that Nadia is lost without her husband, and she isn’t sure how to react or behave normally, as everything has a level of annoyance to her. But at the end of the story, I can’t say conclusively that Nadia learned anything. There is no catharsis, or release, or even a realization of anything. I believe the last section of the story was to provide that, but it felt too random and disjointed, though I understood that Keuka Lake is near the town where Nadia’s husband was killed, and I guess we are all the fish in our grief.

  • Site Redesign… Eventually

    I have been thinking about this for awhile now; I need to redesign the site here. It feels like I need to update some stuff, maybe make it look a little better. To be honest, I have never found a layout that works for me, in all the years that I have tried creating a blog site. Even going back to 1999, and my first Blogger page. Building a page and site and all of this has never produced a site that I was comfortable with.

    I know the first question one needs to ask themselves when they start building out their site, is what is the purpose? What is the point? Well, I want to place that I can write daily.

    Okay, mission accomplished.

    But… I must say that the reason just about all of you come to this site, talking like 75% of you, is to read the reviews I write. So, that would lead me to believe that I should play up the review stuff, and not do too much of the “personal blog stuff.”

    I don’t know… I never feel comfortable with building this thing. Makes me feel a little selfconscious, and also rather clueless to technology.

    You know… I’m just going to copy Fox Reviews Rock layout. It’s simple, effective, and rocks. It’s a cooI site and I like what they do.

  • Short Story Review – “Séance at the Dinner Party” by Tori Palmore

    (The flash piece “Séance at the Dinner Party” by Tori Palmore first appeared at Rejection Letters on November 27th, 2024.)

    Families can suck, and in literature, this is fertile ground for inspiration which has been plowed many times over, and will forever produce material that will be harvested for our consumption. As I get older, family dramas have become more fascinating to me, and Tori Palmore’s “Séance at the Dinner Party” is a absorbing stream of consciousness entry into the field.

    The narrator takes us through their thoughts/experience/emotions at this family gathering, I believe it is Thanksgiving. There is the subtext of death and the loss of a sibling, perhaps the narrator’s safety at these gatherings, and the repetitive “Brother is Dead” adds a staccato rhythm to the prose, keeping the piece unsettled. I appreciated Palmore’s use of short sentences to build tension and keep the emotions and reactions moving forward. The piece never feels like it can stop, that it will perpetually play over and over again, not only in the narrator’s life, but also in the mind, even when they leave this dinner party of family. How the narrator is uncomfortable with their family, how they don’t feel accepted, to the point of micro aggressions signaling that they are not fully accepted. Yet the narrator keeps their rage, even grief, in check. Though the narrator does escape this evening with their family, the ironic knowledge is that this event will repeat itself again.

    Palmore’s “Séance at the Dinner Party” is the type of flash fiction I look forward to reading. It is direct, clear, and puts me in a moment or emotional state that I can relate to, or learn from. And in the piece, Palmore also creates a moment that also feels as if it exists outside of time, which adds to the resonance of the story.

  • The Feeling I’m Not Having (Unedited)

    I have been trying all day to come up with a blog, but nothing came to my mind.

    So, looks like I’m doing one of those “Can’t Come Up with Anything,” blogs. I don’t like these, and I seem to do them a couple times of the course of a year.

    It’s a cop out, I know, but here we are.

    I could blame the Alt Side Parking that I had to do this morning.

    Or all the grocery shopping.

    Or the hour I spent playing Axis & Allies on the iPad.

    Maybe the time I spent reading the news.

    Or the I hour I spent with my wife eating lunch and watching the “Mexican Week” episode of GBBS.

    I even found myself reading the Wiki page on Lady Jane Gray… And I’m not sure how I found my way there.

    But most importantly; I’m just not feeling it. Not feeling inspired to read anything, let alone write anything. I tried listening to al the Grammy nominated Best New Artists to see if something would catch me, you know, get something going. It was all good music, but nothing caught.

    So, here I am on the couch at 6:02pm writing about nothing, if only to check the box and say that I accomplished writing a posting a blog today.

    Even if it is a cop out.

  • My Least Favorite Part

    One of the goals that I set for myself this year was to submit my work to more magazines. I sent out a bunch in 2023, and sort of fell off the wagon in 2024, and that is why I am hitting the ground running in 2025. Well, at least relative to my situation. My goal was to send out to ten different magazines this month, and today, I accomplished it. Not an enormous step, but a step none the less.

    And as I was reading issues and guidelines from new magazines and journals, I started to feel like I did when I was acting, and going out on auditions – which was nervous, a little anxious, and also a touch of faked confidence. I mean I got work, but like all actors, I struck out more often than not. I accepted that it was part of the business, but I never learned to enjoy it. I have friends who love to audition – get in the room, try stuff out, see what works. They like the challenge of it all.

    For me, auditioning was the necessary evil that I had to go through to get what I wanted, and that was rehearsal. I loved every part of rehearsal. The table read, getting there early, making new friends in the cast and crew, learning how each other works, the discovery of the process, the bad days, and the good days, and that feeling of at any moment it could all go off the rails but somehow always magically came together. Not always, but most of the time. Performance was extra, the icing on the cake. Rehearsal was the fun of work. And I really do miss that.