Category: Writing

  • Short Story Review: “Poor Houdini” by Anne Carson

    (The short story “Poor Houdini” by Anne Carson appeared in the January 29th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Lauren Peters-Collaer

    Well, yeah!

    “Poor Houdini” by Anne Carson is the type of short story I love falling into. Why beat around the bush here; This is a fabulous story that happily reminded me how much fun it is to be engaged and enthralled by the ways a writer takes words, and language and plays with it, creating mood, atmosphere, and a lyrical mist which surrounds their story. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into with that first paragraph, but by the end I was ashamed that I wasn’t aware Anne Carson before today.

    I guess there is a through line of a story here; a female poet, romantic entanglements, a crow, the rescue of a woman from a collapsed balcony, and the writing of sonnets. Picking apart this story seems antithetical to what this story exudes; which is a sort of lived life that is filtered through a poet’s eyes, and their reactions to those events. And these events can and should be explored more, but I only have so much time.

    Because what grabbed me was the language and how it danced to life. “There is stillness after rain. Rank risings rise. Trees drip. Street lamps loom. Night takes on a polish, a pure power.” I know this feeling, this setting, and it’s as if I can touch it with my fingertips, yet it stays magically elusive. Carson weaves these words, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of melancholy, as this is a world of people looking for connections with each other, but nothing seems to land the way they want or expect. But they keep moving forward, not exactly flailing, but grasping – at least the poet does.

    I know that I am not doing the story justice, and this isn’t so much a “review”, as it is more a “gush.” I think part of my reaction to “Poor Houdini” is that it also brought up in me the memory of being young, in college, and the world was still able to be discovered, emotions could be surprisingly new, and it mattered to attempt to create something out of that jumble of life. I can’t completely put my finger on it, but it felt very close to what Anne Carson wrote.

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  • That’s a Good Name

    This isn’t a new idea of mine, you see, as I have been thinking about it since high school, but what if I started a lit journal? Nowadays, it would be an online lit journal, but in the back of my mind I can hear M.M. Carrigan over at Taco Bell Quarterly yelling that I should just do it.

    And I might…

    But that’s not why I am here. (Though I could always use the unsolicited encouragement.) The reason I bring all of this up is that, besides figuring out what the mission of the lit mag would be (It needs to be original, like, the only place to get whatever it is that I will showcase,) but most importantly is to come up with a name that stick in people’s minds, and encapsulate whatever it is that I am selling. Now, logically, I need to come up with the mission or purpose statement first as that will make it so much easier to find a name… Yeah, but that’s not a whole lot of fun.

    What I am reminded of is when I was in a terrible, just awful punk/blues/jam band, and all the hours in rehearsal we’d spend rockin’ out, and then yelling possible band names at each other;

    No Refund, Lost Weekend, Areola, Bacon on the Side, Webbed Toes… You get the idea.

    Now, I don’t want to sound too much like a grandpa 90’s punk, but it should still have a literary name, but with an edge… like…

    Poochie

    Inked Well

    The Blurb

    Atmost

    Humph

    Dead Spot

    Dead Cart

    Mark Two

    And then the title might need a good one liner to follow up, like…

    “Nothing But Illustrious Writers”

    Or

    “It’s Norse for Quality”

    Or

    “Putting Your MFA to Use”

    So, you can see, this has been a fun mind walk of an… Oh!

    Mind Walk (That’s a good one…)

    Anyway, you can see this has been a fun exercise in…

    Ellipses (Ah… maybe not…)

    Point here people is that making an online lit journal might not be the easiest thing, but picking out a name is a good way to kill an hour of writing time.

    (And all these journal names are copyrighted by me, Matthew Groff, 2024. Can’t use it unless you get permission or pay me.)

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  • ODDS and ENDS: Worst Week, Worster Week, Worstist Week, and I Quit

    So, the week started off bad with the Cowboys choking, but at least the Eagles collapse was a much bigger story. One might say that there was little solace in that fact, but they would be wrong – I really enjoyed watching the Eagles lose to Tampa Bay. I am pissed about the Cowboys, but this will be the last I write about it. Just can’t believe that no one showed up to play on that team. Sure, every year I think they will win the Super Bowl (that’s how I was raised) yet in a realistic sense, I thought for sure they would make it to the Conference Championship, and then lose to San Francisco or Detroit; whoever made it there. But enough of that.

    Then my wife hurt her back on Monday.  Now, she is one tough woman, and I have been doing my best to comfort her, but there is nothing I can do to take her pain away. It’s a pretty helpless situation to be in, and that goes for both of us. Slowly she’s been getting her mobility back, but it has been rough going. The whole week got shot to hell for both of us, so it feels like we are running behind, too. I know she will be better soon, and we will get thing back on track, but it’s just frustrating.

    And then the kid had a big test at school that she was positive that she wasn’t going to do well on. It’s a reading and writing test, and she’s not wrong, she is having trouble with writing her thoughts down. Part of this is left over effects from Covid causing school closings, and this is the educational crack she fell into. And unfortunately, many other kids did as well. I helped her prep for the test this week, and she can comprehend and do the work, but she just doesn’t have much confidence in herself when it comes to the test. This was another place that I felt very helpless this week. I was trying to encourage her, build up her confidence, and I even used sports metaphors about how you have to believe and expect to win first, then put in the hard work to be successful. I don’t know… We haven’t got the results yet on the test, so it’s agonizing waiting to hear how she did.

    Finally, to shit out my week, I learned yesterday that a good friend of mine from college died suddenly the night before. There was no warning… they were here and then they weren’t. Logically, it’s been twenty years since I was in college, and unfortunately these things will happen now. That’s a meaningless thing to say because logic in these situations never makes anyone feel better. I hadn’t seen them in close to eighteen years. I hadn’t spoken to them in, like, fifteen years. Hadn’t communicated with them in five, and the last interaction we had was about five months ago when we “liked” each other’s pictures. Just thought there would be one more chance. Like the next time I was in Texas, I would head out to the theatre they worked at, and I would see them. And they would be friendly and kind, and hug, because they were kind. The kindest. They were especially kind to me when I was new in the theatre department, and didn’t know anything. They were kind to help me then, and as I see the tributes on social media, I am hearing again about their kindness, and how wonderful they were to everyone.

  • Artist Books

    Over Winter Break, our little family went to the Museum of Modern Art here in Manhattan. Part of the reason to go was to kill an afternoon, but also the kid really is loving her art class at school. They were studying Picasso before the break, and she remembered that MoMA has several of his very famous paintings, and was excited about seeing them. For the wife, she hadn’t been out in the City in a while, you know, to actually enjoy this place – so she was hip on going. Me; I love going to museums – any museum: historical, art, kid, whimsical, yarn, whatever…

    So, up on the top floor, MoMA is holding a retrospective on Edward Ruscha. I was vaguely aware of his work, especially the gas station stuff, but I didn’t know a whole lot about the guy. Let me say this, if you are available, you should go check it out. His work covers several different mediums, and is a very interesting digestion of Post War America, and the growing of Pax Americana.

    Out of all his works, the one I was most drawn to were his artist’s books, the first being “Twentysix Gasoline Stations.” There was something to the simplicity of the work in the book, and the efficacy of the design on the whole. Ruscha went on do many other artists books, all keeping with the same design theme. What these books reminded me of was two things; gallery books my uncle would make, and other artist’s sketchbooks.

    I am aware that Ruscha’s artist books were not sketchbooks, but a complete work unto itself, but I have been to other artist’s shows were they make a single sketchbook into a work. Some of the most interesting I have seen, sadly I have forgotten names, were books that had cut out pictures from magazines and newspapers, or were a combination of text ant drawings/paintings.

    And then there are the gallery books that my uncle used to make. He was a painter/artist who spent time in New York in the late 50’s and 60’s and then relocated to Houston. When he had a show in a gallery, books would be printed for the event, but my uncle took extra time making these limited-edition books individual and unique. Some of the books he would personally swipe paint across the cover, and I think one he would rip the corner off of the first page, to make each book feel “used.”

    And for the past week, in the back of my head, I have this “artist book” idea-thing kicking around in my head. Not sure what to do with it. About six months ago I started farting around with the idea of making a limited run “zine” that would feature crayon drawings and poems with my kid, but that never materialized. (I think my daughter was never on board with the idea.) But I like the idea that writers should adopt artists books as part of their medium to work with. This would be more than a chapbook, as it would incorporate more visuals and play with format and style. For a writer not only works with words, but also the form that books can take, right?

    I’m going to play around with this some more. Even though I might just be describing chapbooks…

  • Starting Things Off Wrong

    So… I didn’t blog yesterday.

    In fact, all I did was write in my journal at 6am. (I’m trying that out, seeing how it goes.) I’m still gun’na stick to the idea that I will blog five days a week, with a minimum of 250 words per post but there can be exceptions, and also keeping a daily schedule of creative writing as well. Simple plan, not too complicated. And things started off great on Tuesday.

    And then Wednesday arrived, and I was cursed with the advantage of additional free time during the day that I was not expecting. Like an additional hour. When I made this discovery of time, my first thought was to take a portion of it, and do something a little mindless and have fun.

    My mindless fun took up two and a half hours, and ruined the rest of my day.

    And I can admit that what destroyed my yesterday is a thing that I have very little power over:

    Axis & Allies 1942 Online

    I got the game over the Christmas/New Year’s Break. I thought I had it under control. I mean, the whole family was on vacation, and everyone had their video games to play. A&A was my game, and with nothing going other than relaxing and eating, I spent some quality hours playing.

    I thought I had it under control.

    See, if you don’t know, there was the original board game back in the 80’s that my brothers and I played often. Then I went away to college and took the game with me, and on many evenings me and my friends would play the game late into the night, often a little drunk. I wouldn’t call myself a great player, but I was competent, and I won more often than I lost. To be very honest, if I played the UK or Japan, I can rule the whole world in 9 turns.

    Just saying.

    But yesterday, when my computer player Allies choked and didn’t take the Caucuses back, nor did they invade Wester Europe fast enough, I was placed in a situation as the UK where I had to go and save everyone’s butt. And it’s not easy to invade Southern Europe while simultaneously building up a Pacific Fleet.

    The point here people, is that I failed on day two.

    Now I have to set a time limit on the game…