Category: Writing

  • Short Story Review: “Once Removed” by Alexander MacLeod

    (The short story “Once Removed,” by Alexander MacLeod appeared in the February 7th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Sometimes I think that half of life is just dealing with family. And when you get married, or have a partner, you adopt their family, and that takes up more time. I do think three quarters of all fiction is about dealing with families; the trauma, hypocrisy, illogic, and old feuds. Families know how to push buttons, and get you to agree to things that you would never agree to if it came from anyone else. And families somehow can make us take on roles and personas that we thought we had gotten past and stopped playing. Ah, the never ending well of drama that families can produce. And, don’t forget about minor annoyances. Families are really good at that, too.

    “Once Removed,” by Alexander MacLeod, is a minor annoyance family story. There is a thin, under the surface family issue that is hinted at, but it is not fully engaged. The story is about a Montreal couple who isn’t married, Matt and Amy, and their four-month old daughter Ella, going to visit Matt’s very distant relative, Greet. I will not explain how Greet is related to Matt as it is one of the ongoing jokes in the story, and this is a cute, funny piece. The perspective is from Amy’s point of view, and she is suspicious as to why they are being asked to a Sunday afternoon dinner; it couldn’t be as simple as Greet wanting to see the new baby, right? Lunch happens, a favor is asked, a neighbor is visited, maybe a heist happens, and Greet’s guest room is explored. The story hints that Greet has been banished from Matt’s Nova Scotia family, though never explained why, which also brings about an understanding between Greet and Amy, as Amy has never felt at place with that side of the family either.

    “Once Removed” is an enjoyable work, humors, and light in tone, and that is not meant to be derogatory. And then the story has a denouement, which I questioned. (I am aware that “denouement” may not be the correct literary term, but MacLeod isn’t the first short story writer to use this technique, or trick, and I am not sure what is a better term to use.) The climax of the story comes, and then Amy has this vision of the future involving Ella and telling her this story, of the Greet visit. The tone of writing even changes, going from realistic to more of an abstract feel, as if we are wrapping up what all of this meant. Like I said, MacLeod isn’t the first short story writer to do this, but I question the modern usage of it in a short story. I feel that a denouement is needed for longer work such as a novel, as there are many tangents that need to be brought together after the climax to bring about resolution. In a short story, enough time hasn’t been given for these tangents to be created, so a denouement feels like an add on, a trick to signal conclusion, rather than truly functioning as a conclusion to the story. I wouldn’t say it took away from the story, which I enjoyed, but made me wonder if this technique is really needed anymore.

  • Short Story Review: “Long Distance,” by Aysegul Savas

    (The short story “Long Distance,” by Aysegul Savas, appeared in the January 31st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Sometimes it’s nice to read a love story. And sometimes it’s also nice to read a love story about “relationships where you get jerked around,” to quote the Fortune Teller from The Simpsons. When it came to Aysegul Savas’ story “Long Distance,” it’s a love story about two people who try not to jerk each other around, but might be jerking each other around.

    This was a story that seemed like it could have been published in Collier’s back in the 50’s, as it sort of had the casualness of a Post-War world where American’s came and went in Europe, like visiting a farm upstate – free of the burdens the rest of the world is dealing with. The story is basically about Lea, a student doing a semester of research in Rome, and her male gentleman friend (I don’t think he is ever referred to as a boyfriend) Leo, coming to visit her from California. Their relationship is new, starting just before she left for Rome, and has consisted of phone calls and emails. There is a large anticipation on Lea’s part, and when Leo arrives, the two never seems to line up their intentions, especially when it comes to a story about an elderly woman Leo met on his flight to Rome.

    I am a fan of the short story with subtle and small events that have impactful ramifications to character’s lives, even to the point where the reader understands the importance though the characters may not. That’s what I think this story was aiming for, and I feel it succeeded at that goal. I understood Lea’s high expectations for Leo’s visit, and how when each miscommunication occurs, she feels more insecure that the trip will be a failure. The story is from her point of view, as she is the only character we get internal thoughts from, so we have to take Leo’s words and actions, and figure out what is his truth. I like that Savas structured his story in that way, as it doesn’t make Leo’s true intentions the focus, but rather Lea’s decision on what she thinks is Leo’s true intention are. For that reason, I feel the story stuck its landing.

  • Knowing When to Give Up

    Lot of stuff happened this weekend; Nor’easter, sledding, digging out the car, and teaching the kid how to play UNO. Big weekend.

    Personally, the big one for me is that I came to the decision that a novel that I have been working on, on and off, for about five years, just isn’t going to work. It’s time to put it to bed, send it on its way, give it a its Viking Funeral, and so on and so forth.

    I had some big ideas about tackling male fragility and toxicity, white privilege, the social impact of a value-based economy, forgiveness, and being anonymous in a rapidly connected world. There was a lot going on there, and that might just be the problem. I liked many of the elements that I developed, including the subplot with a hermit in the woods around Phoenicia, NY, but… maybe it was never going to work.

    I really like the first chapter, and when I was thinking about it this weekend, that’s when the idea hit me that maybe the first chapter should just be a short story, and leave it at that. But to leave it at that, I need to go and do some work on it.

    I have started to feel like I don’t have enough time for all the things in life I want to do. I might not have as much time as I think. And because of that, how much time do I want to spend on things that aren’t working?

    I now see in my life that I hung around in situations that weren’t working because I was afraid of quitting. There were relationships, work situations, and even creative projects that I hung around in, even though I had that feeling in my gut that it wasn’t working, but my pride said I wasn’t allowed to quit.

    So, the novel is dead. Long Live the Novel.

  • Feeling Off Today (Unedited)

    The day feels off. In fact, it felt a little off right before I went to bed.  Then in the middle of the night, the kid woke me up, which was right after midnight, so it was like the day did in fact start with an issue. I think the kid needed to blow her nose. That was the problem I was tasked with solving. Which I did, and then put her back to sleep.

    And since then, it’s really been off.

    I got back to sleep but never really fell into a deep sleep; I was always aware that I was just barely asleep.

    So, this morning has felt off. And I have felt frustrated.

    I rewrote my cover letter for submitting, but I haven’t been able to shake the nagging voice which keeps telling me that this is a big waste of time, and nothing will come of it.

    And as I was researching literary, again the thought of failure keep coming at me. That, again this is a futile exercise. That I don’t know enough. That I don’t belong. That That That…

    It’s exhausting constantly fighting with myself.

    I know being tired doesn’t help, but I think I need to admit that I am a little afraid too. I’m afraid to fail. I’m also afraid to be laughed at. I’m afraid too because I have nowhere to hide. In theatre, I had a character or a puppet to hide behind. With my stories, it’s all me, and that’s putting the fear in me. I feel exposed.

    But, I don’t like feeling worthless either. Not having a goal, something to work towards, is a pretty awful feeling as well.

    Gotta push through it.

  • Short Story Review: “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal

    (The short Story, “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal, appeared in the January 24, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    To all the high school English teachers I had, the college English and Creative Writing professors who tried to teach me, and to all the writing group members who argued strongly against me, I can now conclusively say that you were all wrong. That I and my good friend, and sometime writing partner, John Esquivel were right; you can write a story that has no plot or climax, and it can still meet the cathartic resolution threshold for a short story to be successful. No matter your opinion of it, but The New Yorker is a preeminent publication of short fiction, and if their editors saw fit to publish a story of this form, then it must be true; a short story to be successful does not need a plot or climax, it just needs catharsis for its protagonist.

    “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal is the story I am speaking of, and I applaud the effort of it. It is a simple narrative of an older male New Yorker dealing with the start of the Covid pandemic, and the thoughts that he has.

    I had the feeling, about half way through reading it, that this was a rather experimental story. Not stream of consciousness, nor modern absurdist, but like a filtered realistic consciousness. It exist in a linear timeline, but it feels like that is there more to show the movement of time, and not as a hard road sign of where the narrator is. Memories and thoughts float in, and so does the music the main character is listening to, which lead me to also feel that there was a music quality to the story; like how listening to classical music can sort of make you feel like the music is floating in the air.

    I did enjoy the story, and the structure of it, but I was still left feeling that the catharsis wasn’t complete. To use a music metaphor; the song didn’t end, but just faded out. Like it was a deep cut B-side from your favorite band. The song was good, but you understand why it didn’t make the album. I think I feel this way because of the structure Krystal used for the story, such as a question is posed in the story, and then referenced again at the ending which brings about the catharsis for the protagonist. Krystal placed the question close to the ending, which I feel didn’t give it enough time mix and fold with the memories, thus making the catharsis feel muted, but not ineffective.

    It is a minor criticism, because I felt that Krystal was successful in creating a realistic character that is experiencing, thinking, and remembering all at the same time. It makes the story feel honest, and, personally for me, proves that a short story does not need to behave like a novel. It can be its own art form.