Category: Writing

  • 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.

  • Short Story Review: “Not Here You Don’t” by Thomas McGuane

    (The short story “Not Here You Don’t” by Thomas McGuane, was featured in the October 18th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    The American west is a strange place. I keep thinking that the histories, tragedies and pioneer attitudes of the late 19th century have faded away into our collective American past. Like in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” where they contemplated that the “west” was over and the country was becoming modern. But the reality is that those western histories, tragedies and attitudes still affect people to this day.

    I had to read “Not Here You Don’t” by Thomas McGuane twice. Not that I didn’t understand it, but to verify that I hadn’t missed something. The story is compact, but not lacking in detail. The main character, Gary, is traveling to Montana to bury his father’s ashes on the homestead where his father grew up. Gary deals with the new land owner, and the people in the local town.

    This makes the story sound simple, and perhaps it is, but the story is also playing with the western architype hero, and the changing west. Gary is duty bound to follow his father’s wishes. Gary also displays an honesty of his father’s legacy; he was a good man, though not perfect. Gray knows his family history with the land, and also displays a knowledge that the new landowner lacks, showing that owning it does not make you master of your land. Gary has regrets over a failed love, and he also has feeling of being out of step when he returns home in the East.

    I found myself contemplating that even if we do roam and live far from home, how much of home stays with you? Are we instilled with attitudes from regions of this country that we never truly shake off? Do we identify with places that we really have the thinnest of connections to?

    Hence why I read it again.  Just making sure I got it.

  • Short Story Review: “The Ghost Birds” by Karen Russell

    (The short story “The Ghost Birds” by Karen Russell, was featured in the October 11th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    SPOILER ALERT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! AND I RUN LONG ON THIS ONE!

    The New Yorker published science fiction! I was really excited about that fact when I started reading “The Ghost Birds” by Karen Russell. For all I know, TNY has been publishing sci-fi for a while, but this is the first time I saw that type of story published here. Science Fiction can be a tricky beast; it can be great for adventure and melodrama, and when done very well, can highlight the best of humanity.

    In “The Ghost Birds” we get a future world of global ecological collapse; Wildfires out of control, limited resources, toxic environment, and mass extinctions, especially of all the birds. The story is told by Jasper, who is in search of ghost birds in Oregon, where the story takes place. A violent group called the Surveillers controls these lands and the airspace, for which they kill trespassers. Jasper takes his teenage daughter, Starling, into the dangerous Oregon area to search for these birds

    Creating a complete universe in a short story is a difficult task. The author has to explain how this place works and the logic to this world, while also keeping the flow of the story natural, and not coming across as spoon-feeding, or plot clunky. Russell does this very well in the first two thirds of the story. This world is a desolate and unfriendly place, but also captivating in how people are finding ways to survive in it.

    When the climax of the story starts, the logic and cohesion of the story starts to falter. At this point I refer to what a professor in college taught, which is the Chekhov Maxim; If you introduce a gun in your story, you have to fire the gun. The Surveillers are that gun in this story. They are given enough examples of how dangerous they are, yet they never show up. The climax of the story is that Jasper and Starling get trapped in a furnace smoke stack, which Jasper tries to climb out of, but falls and breaks his leg. That leaves Starling to climb out, and get help from their friend’s airship, which lead me to ask why where the Surveillers introduced? The smoke stack scene is climatic enough, and the threat of the Surveillers plays no part in it. Also, Jasper couldn’t use communication devices because the Surveillers could hear, but somehow, they could get in and out using an airship, even though it is mentioned that the Surveillers patrol the sky. See, the logic started to fall apart. Then, I also had issue with Jasper not having a heroic act. He becomes injured, and witnesses the ghost birds, which makes him passive to the situation.

    I ended up feeling very conflicted about this story. I was really rooting for it, as I liked that this story was about ecological disaster, and that is an issue that I care greatly about. But this sore thumb stuck out at the end that I couldn’t shake or ignore.

    Good effort, just didn’t stick the landing.