(The short story “Light Secrets” by Joseph O’Neill appeared in the January 26th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)
Photograph by Eric Helgas for The New Yorker
Got another “Can’t Put My Finger on It” short story. (It’s doubly funny because hands come into play with the work.) I have come around, and I will say that I do like Joseph O’Neill’s “Light Secrets.” And I did come around to it, because when I finished reading it, I wasn’t sure exactly what I had read. “What is this?” I said out loud in my car. See, I was in the process of moving my car for the street sweeper, but the sweeper hadn’t arrived yet, so I decided that I should read this story. The sweeper never arrived, so as I walked back to my apartment, I contemplated what I had just read. And my opinion began to change.
Though “Light Secrets” is a contemporary story taking place in New York City, it feels more akin to a late 70’s early 80’s New York – like in a Woody Allen movie. You know, smart professional people in their 40’s with leisure time to lunch, walk the City, attend friendly dinner parties, and enjoy robust social circles. I’m not bringing this up as a criticism of the work, more to establish the setting and mentality of these characters; their lives have a breath and space to them which allows for internal contemplation, and though they all have outside pressures in their lives, none of those pressures are paramount to define their being, but are more like accessories to highlight characterization. For a story like this to work, you have to believe that these characters are the type of people that would take the time to analyze and digest what their friends say and how it may apply to their life, and not just move from moment to moment.
And with that said, I’m not sure what “Light Secrets” is trying to say, but I liked it. I like the sensibility of it. How the protagonist speaks to us like we’re a friend. I like how things are left undefined, and rough around the edges. How moments seem to have an intersection, but maybe it’s just a coincidence? Does the touching of hands mean anything, or is it just something that happens? Can a lifetime of good deeds be undone by an unconfirmed rumor? Should it? I kept finding myself going back and thinking of the old adage, “If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?” Does a good deed have to be acknowledged for it to have impact and relevance? Is existentialism just dumb luck which we have thought too much about?
I hate to admit it, but I am a sucker for stories like this – undefined and leading to interpretation. You know, which door has the tiger behind it, and stuff like that. “Light Secrets” is right up my alley, and I think O’Neill did an excellent job of balancing his story, in regard to the information we are given, and the information left out. It’s a well thought through work, and I appreciate that it required me to slow down a step, and just contemplate life for a bit.
