Tag: Book Review

  • Best of 2025: Most Viewed Post – Short Story Review: “Five Bridges” by Colm Tóibín

    This was the big winner of the year. More people than ever came to read my little review which, looking back at it, was neither for nor against the story; just rather there. Anyway, here you go…

    Short Story Review: “Five Bridges” by Colm Tóibín

    (The short story “Five Bridges” by Colm Tóibín appeared in the March 10th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Todd Hido for The New Yorker

    Sometimes when I start reading a short story, in the back of my mind, I start rooting for it. You know, cheering it on, hoping that the story succeeds. Like wishing that your favorite ballplayer hits a homerun when they’re at the plate. So you see, I found myself really pulling for Colm Tóibín’s “Five Bridges” to do well, and accomplish its goals.

    Here’s an overly simplified synopsis: Paul, an Irish guy who has been living in the United States illegally for over thirty years, has decided to move back to Ireland, but in so doing, that will mean he will have to leave his daughter, whom he fathered with woman he never married. But before he leaves, his daughter wants Paul, the mother and the mother’s husband, to all hike Mount Tam which is outside of San Francisco.

    It all starts well. The first section is about Paul hiking with his daughter, Geraldine, and then she tells him her idea about everyone hiking together to Mount Tam. Then at a very leisurely pace, we learn about the strained relationship Paul has with Geraldine’s mother, Sandra. We learn about Paul’s profession as an unlicensed plumber, his socks filled with cash, and his recovery over his alcoholism. Then the story takes a rather hard right turn with the introduction of Paul’s friend Kirwan, another Irishman, and the semi support group Kirwan creates for other single Irishmen living in the Bay Area. Then the story shifts back to Paul, Geraldine, Sandra and her husband, Stan, as the hike up the mount. I’ll leave it there as to not ruin the ending.

    As you can see, Tóibín layers his story, and generally it all works together smoothly, with the exception of that hard-right turn with Kirwan. Also, several themes play under the surface here; fathers and daughters, blended families, immigration, culture clashes, redemption, penance… And as the story went on, and I got closer and closer to the final page, that’s when I started hoping and rooting for this story to all pull together.

    I was enjoying what I was reading, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was getting it’s full due time to resolve itself. When I encounter stories that feel like this, it’s hard for me to shake the feeling that the piece needs a larger format (a novel) to explore the characters, motivations and themes. I wouldn’t go as far to say I was disappointed with the story; more like I was pulling for it, and wanted to it work.

  • Short Story Review: “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff

    (The short story “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff appeared in the November 10th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Bryan Schutmaat

    “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff is a good story, except for one thing. And I’ll get to that.

    But before I get to that, this story made me think about the world my mother lived in. She was married with three sons, and though she told us she loved it, she did have to deal with three stinky boys, who became men, and all the baggage that came with it. Later in life, when me and my brothers got married and had our own families, did it start to dawn on us how much of her life was confined with masculine demands. In that context, much of what is expressed in this story by the narrator rang true to me; that men are always in her house, how her boys were now men, and the need for her home to be a safe place.

    When the stalker is added to the story, and thus kicking off the plot, the menace that this man places on the narrator, is not only an immediate threat to her, but also to her home, and these men in her life. And this stalker is truly a threat, because he does have a gun. This weapon also functions as a reminder that violence and men are never too far apart from each other. Her husband has a baseball bat, her sons offer their own cocky protection to their mother, and the narrator even tries to enlist the workers from her home renovation for additional security. All of this raised interesting questions of violence and safety, of masculine and feminine roles, how a mother goes from protector of her sons, to needing protection from them. Even the title of story, which is also the title Catholics use in reference to Mary mother of Jesus, wasn’t lost on me, and added another layer to the piece. Great stuff.

    And then the climax happened. The stalker enters the home at night, the narrator is unable to take action, so her son asks the stalker to leave, which the stalker does. And it felt completely incongruent to everything that had come before in the story. This climax broke Chekhov’s Gun Rule, which means if you introduce a gun in the story, you have to fire it at the end. There was an expectation of violence, threat, even menace in this story, and to not deliver a resolution to that expectation left the ending of the story feeling hollow. And I did spend time thinking about this climax and the choices that were made, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion – the gun needed to be fired.

  • Short Story Review: “The Queen of Bad Influences” by Jim Shepard

    (The short story “The Queen of Bad Influences” by Jim Shepard appeared in the June 16th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Naï Zakharia

    Reviewing stuff is fun. Clearly, because I do it often. Who doesn’t like sharing their opinion and acting like an expert? It’s all fun and games until you hit a critical theory paradox; Is it possible to acknowledge that a story is good, and well written, but at the same time does not resonate or move me? That was the situation I ran into when I finished reading “The Queen of Bad Influences” by Jim Shepard.

    To be clear, “The Queen of Bad Influences” is a good story, well written, and I have no qualms in recommending that you should read this story because it has a very relevant theme, is constructed well, is insightful, has a bit of action and tragedy to it, the protagonist is engaging and grows over the story, and the use of language is spot on. All the boxes are checked here.

    Yet, I just didn’t feel anything.

    Look, I write these reviews for my own enjoyment, and as an exercise in analyzing what makes a short story work, or not work, so I might improve my ability as a writer. On the whole, I will only review a work if it moves me, garners an emotional reaction, either positive or negative. If I don’t have a reaction, then I let it go and move on. (Now, if someone wants to pay me, I’ll review whatever you send me.) These aren’t deep philosophical rules that I follow, but more like functional guidelines.

    When I finished “The Queen of Bad Influences,” I didn’t have a reaction to it. At first I was going to write something negative about the piece, but the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t seem accurate to do it. I went back through the story, and I really couldn’t find a fault with it, save one line, but that wasn’t that big of a deal. What I came to accept is that this isn’t the story or the writer’s fault, it’s me. This is just not my thing.

    Let me try putting it a different way, which my Gen-X grunge mind can appreciate; “The Queen of Bad Influences” is like Alice in Chains. I get why people love the hell out of Alice in Chains. Alice in Chains was made up of some really great musicians, who wrote some really great songs. I’m not an Alice in Chains fan because they suck – I’m not a fan because they don’t resonate with me the way Nirvana, or Pixies, or a host of other grunge bands do. It’s me, not them.

    It’s me, and not Jim Shepard and “The Queen of Bad Influences.”

    Anyway, go read this story. You’ll enjoy it.

  • Personal Review: “First Love” by Gwendoline Riley

    For the life of me, I don’t remember who or what recommended First Love to me. It was on a list of books that I should read, and when I found a copy of it at the Strand, I picked it up without a second thought, nor having any idea what I was about to get myself into. To be honest, I appreciate the joy and excitement that comes from reading a book that I know nothing about, by an author I also know nothing about, because it does afford me the ability to truly experience a work without any preconceived notions. In this situation, I didn’t even read the description on the back of the book.

    First Love isn’t about the “happy” side of love. It’s not about the joy, fulfillment, or really any of the positive side of love. Oh, now and then, that side of love does show up, but on the whole, that’s not what this novel wants to explore. For the protagonist Neve, she shares with us all of people that she first experienced a form of “love” with; her mother, her father, a boyfriend, and her husband. Each relationship is troubled, difficult, in some cases even toxic, and they all overlap on each other, influencing each relationship from actions that happened in the past, and fears of what might happen in the future. For this reason, it is not a traditional novel, and time and events shift – nothing is linear here, but it adds greatly to the theme of these loves bumping and conflicting with each other.

    I found myself thinking about the works of Rachel Cusk and Maggie Nelson as I read this book. Riley’s novel tackles a serious subject, but the narrative never becomes weighed down, as it feels like a conversation. As such, this book was akin to the Outline Trilogy, and the examination in Bluets. It felt very internal, that we were being let in to very personal thoughts and exanimations. I will say that though First Love is a new form novel, like Outline, Riley did have a more traditional climax here, which gave the novel a satisfying conclusion.

    When I read a book like First Love, I am rather envious of writers like Gwendoline Riley, who create drama and self-examining characters, while never making their stories so personal that it becomes dull of whiney. It’s a bit of a magic trick, that is fun to experience. Thank you, to what, or whomever put this book on my reading list.

  • Personal Review: Let Me Think by J. Robert Lennon

    I am embarrassed to say that I have no idea how Let Me Think by J Robert Lennon made it on my reading list. And my reading list is actually a wish list on my Amazon account. This was the book that was next up. I knew it was a collection of short stories, but other than that, I knew nothing about the author or any previous works. I was going in blind, but sometimes it’s good to be surprised.

    The collection is made up of flash pieces and short stories, broken up into five sections. There are two reoccurring stories; one about a marriage, and another about a cottage in the woods. The other thing that reoccurs in the collection is the theme of unhappy marriages. And I can’t prove it, but with the book being broken into five parts, I had the weird feeling that each section was to represent one of the five stages of grief. Again, no proof of that, but I couldn’t shake that idea.

    I liked Lennon’s writing right from the beginning of the collection. The first two pieces, “Girls” followed by “Boys” showed that Lennon has a sense of humor, and likes to play with the form of a short story. Witty, this guy’s witty, and the sense of playfulness and fun comes right through. That’s not to say that the none of the stories take on a serious tone, as some do, but experimentation is happening here as well. The “cottage” stories do take on an adult tone, but they also lean into a slight thread of absurdism, or maybe fanciful is the better word to use. Yet, the best example of this tone is the story “Subject Verb” which is told in that very simple sentence structure; just a subject and a verb. It is a format that is brutal in its simplicity, but Lennon makes it an effective tool for storytelling.

    In the end, the collection was enjoyable and entertaining, but what I was left with, and made me the happiest, was that this was a book by a writer who is trying to find new ways to tell a story. The pieces don’t follow the hero cycle, or have a hook in the first line, or even try to tie up the narrative with a button. Now, some of the stories do the afore mentioned things, but the ones that don’t, the stories that try, and poke and prod at what a narrative can be – how short can a story be – how many words are needed to create an emotional pay off? THAT was the excitement of reading this collection – it was different, and it was refreshing without feeling labored to be different.