Category: Writing

  • Short Story Review: “Hello, Goodbye” by Yiyun Li

    (The short story “Hello, Goodbye” by Yiyun Li was featured in the November 15th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Getting old sucks, but having old friends makes it tolerable. Boom! That sums up “Hello, Goodbye” by Yiyun Li. I am being a little turdy right now in my review, as this is a story, I thought I would like, and I don’t think I like it, but as I’m writing this, I think I do like it. I’m very conflicted, and there is a good chance that was the point.

    Li’s story revolves around two old friends who met at Berkley, and live in Silicon Valley/Bay Area. Nina is married to a pediatric dentist with two tween/teenaged daughters. Nina’s best friend Katie is in the process of divorcing her much older and very rich husband. As this story takes places in the time of Covid, Katie moves in with Nina’s family, and reflections ensue. Mainly, teenagers think they know more than their parents, and the parents reflect on how right and yet wrong that is. Also, how some people live for contentment, while other people live for experience. Contentment might be an emotional plateau of stability; experience brings the excitement of the highs and the depression of the lows with everything else being forgotten.

    See! I should like this. It is totally up my alley as these are the conversations, I am having with my friends of twenty plus years.

    But something stuck in my craw with this story. (It could be that the title of this story is the same as a very famous Beatles song.) And I think it might come down to sticking the landing of the piece. The story did have a tinge of melancholy of the past without dipping into misplaced reverent nostalgia. Li created ideas and images that I identified with, and enjoyed. SO, I think my unease is purely academic. I can’t identify the climax, and the resolution feels too easy.

    It’s too bad, as I would like to see what Nina and Katie do next in their friendship and their lives.

  • Site Update, and What Am I Doing?

    After I posted the ODDS and ENDS blog on Friday, I decided that it was time to start monkeying around with the blog site. The old site was just the blog, and an ABOUT page. It was more basic than basic, and thinking back to when I originally started this blog, I wasn’t too concerned about how things looked. But, being that I am blogging twenty times a month now, and on some days have four views, I decided that I needed to step up my game. Hence, the new:

    matthewgroffblog.wordpress.com

    I have a Home page now, as well as an updated About page. There is a dedicated Blog page, which I will talk about more later. I created a page specific for The ALGOT Blogs, which are my most popular posts, and now the three-part story is in one location. (Also, Ikea discontinued the ALGOT line of products, in case you haven’t heard.) Last, there is the Archive page, so you know, you can read my progress as a blogger.

    And the Blog itself. I decided that it was time to drop the “250 Word” theme. I don’t think the four of you that were reading this were here because of the concise word format I chose to use. The original idea was to train myself to write effectively, while using the fewest words as possible. Not sure if I have attained that skill, but I have started to move away from the idea that I need only write 250 words.

    The last thought that I had, as I was finishing up the site on Sunday night, was should I bite the bullet and buy the domain, and stop using the free WordPress.com site? That question raised some other questions that I haven’t answered yet, but am still thinking about. Spending money on this site is like saying that I am taking it seriously now, so am I serious about this? I have been doing this for a year, going from one view to four views on average, so what do I hope to achieve with the purchase? I’m not setting the world on fire here, so what’s the point?

    The point? For me, I’m a stay at home parent now. I take care of my family, especially my daughter, and I need a creative outlet. I need something that I can work on, look forward to, that is for me. I need to do something that validates my existence in this very strange and odd world that I live in. So… Do I need to pay to attain that?

  • Short Story Review: “The Umbrella” by Tove Ditlevsen

    (The short story “The Umbrella” by Tove Ditlevsen, translated from the Danish by Michael Favala Goldman, was featured in the October 25th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    When it comes to reading, and then writing my little reviews of, the short stories that are featured in The New Yorker, I do not do any research on the writers until after I publish my blog post. I want to let the story speak for itself, and not invite any outside influence to come into play. (The Sally Rooney story was the one exception, but I’m a fan of hers so that was that kind’a expected…) This way my expectations can be hedged, and I enter the story with an open mind.

    Wow, this story was Scandinavian! It’s like Ibsen’s ghost took a pass at this story. (I wonder if non-Americans think Mark Twain’s influence is present in all American writers?) I don’t necessarily mean that as a bad thing, but within a few words, “The Umbrella” sets a very specific tone, which I think bodes well for Michael Favala Goldman’s ability to translate Tove Ditlevsen’s story. The plot is straight forward, and I am not being condescending when I say this. It is about a young woman, Helga, who marries Egon, and the difficulties that arise in their new marriage, and also Helga’s desire to own a beautiful umbrella. And, as I am sure that you can guess, it’s about more than that.

    Which is why I said it is so Scandinavian! From the Third Person Omniscient narration, to the setting being early winter, to characters staring out windows watching people walk by, even to the conversation between Helga and her mother about a Christmas where Helga cried over her gifts… this story has a tone and mood that is thick and enveloping. But I didn’t find it overpowering, as the story was about the little disappointments in life, and how people try to connect, and also how people try to move on, and what they have latched onto from their past to help them do that. It had a brutal honesty, that wasn’t unpleasant, but was unflinching.

  • The Act of Journaling

    I read an article in this week’s New Yorker, entitled “The Paper Tomb,” about the journals of Claude Fredericks. Who, you ask? In fact, the article starts off the same way. Unless you went to Bennington College, or are a deep dive fan of the novel, “The Secret History,” odds are you are like me, and this would be the first time his name has shown up in your life. What makes Claude Fredericks interesting, at least in this article, is that he spent an entire lifetime journaling, and expected it to be published. Also, Fredricks was an early proponent, autofiction, though in his mind, he saw the journal as the vessel of this media, and not the novel.

    I read the article last night, and I have been thinking about it since. I do like the ambition of a longhaul documentation of one’s life, in the sense that it is a fascinating art project. It’s like Andy Warhol’s “Sleep,” five and a half hours of a guy sleeping. Sure, it’s an anti-film, but it also plays on the idea of documentation to the point where it is actually just witnessing life. Can you truly document an entire life? We all know the answer is no. You cannot witness someone else’s entire life, nor can you get every detail of life down on paper.

    But what is it then? I journal, and I know a great number of other people who journal as well. Hell, Gary Shandling was a prolific with his journals. Are we doing this for ourselves, or do we all intend to have someone read them one day? Isn’t this just a fancy literary way of talking to ourselves?

    I have completed 38 journals that are anywhere from 200 to 300 pages long each. I started when I was 18 and continue to this day. They are in a box in the office, and most days I don’t think about them. Then I complete a journal, and go to throw it into that box, and that’s when I ask myself, who is this really for?

  • Thoughts on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

    As we get closer to Halloween, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow reappears in my life. The first appearance is always when we visit The Great Jack o’Lantern Pumpkin Blaze at Van Cortlandt Manor in early October, just as the weather gets very cool at night, and leaves are starting to change. The Blaze always has a section which is Headless Horseman themed, and every year, the kid asks us who that is, and what is the Legend? On the drive back into the City, we retell the story of Ichabod Crane, and his fateful ride to cross the bridge at the Old Dutch Church. The kid gets a little spooked when we tell her there is a real town of Sleepy Hollow, a real bridge over the Pocantico River, and a real old Dutch Church graveyard.

    I also am fascinated by The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I had a bit of giddy excitement the first time that I went to Sleepy Hollow after I moved to the area. I think it was the Summer of 2007, and we had rented a car to drive up to Beacon for the day, but I had requested that my wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, drive our car through the town. I also wanted to see the bridge, which is just a cement bridge and not the covered wooden one of my imagination. I wanted to see the graveyard, and the Old Dutch Church, and verify that they were real, and not fictional. It was watching literature coming to life, because the Horseman isn’t real, but everything else was?

    My fascination of the Legend also comes from how Washington Irving created the story. The Headless Horseman ghost has its roots in German and Dutch folklore. The history of Westchester County during the Revolutionary War; how it was a no-man’s land between the British and the Colonists, with skirmishes resulting in corpses left in the woods to be discovered years later. These were stories that Irving heard as a kid growing up in the county. He mixed it all together, along with his observations of how outsiders and homogenous communities deal with each other. Irving created something altogether American from many disparate parts, which still sounds like America.