Tag: Fiction

  • Short Story Review: “Keuka Lake” by Joseph O’Neill

    (The short story “Keuka Lake” by Joseph O’Neill appeared in the March 3rd, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Annie Collinge for The New Yorker

    I don’t know if you know this, but grief is a really popular theme for short stories. (That and bad relationships with parents, but that’s a story for another day.) Grief lends itself easily to the dramatic, and is also individualistic, and it can also be shocking as to what emotions and memories it will bring up. Everyone grieves differently, and maybe I was a little flippant at the start of this, because maybe my past grief still makes me uncomfortable.  Parts of “Keuka Lake” tapped on my past grief, but in the end Joseph O’Neill’s story meandered, leaving an unsteady feeling to the work.

    The story starts off with a banger of a first paragraph, letting us know that Nadia, the protagonist, has been involved with someone from a teenager to the day she became a widower at fifty-four. Her husband was killed in a car crash near a town in the Finger Lakes, and Nadia never knew why her husband was driving up there. And then the story just flutters about. We follow Nadia to a visit to her sister on Montreal, and then an early return to the States, where she gets a speeding ticket. She then looks up a former boyfriend, who is a lawyer, to take care of the ticket, and though she never sees the lawyer, Nadia engages his secretary to look into the reasons why her husband was in the Finger Lakes.

    I say that the story “meanders” and “flutters” because the story never feels like it takes anyone seriously. The tone that is taken towards everyone that isn’t Nadia is condescending and rather dismissive. I understand that Nadia is lost without her husband, and she isn’t sure how to react or behave normally, as everything has a level of annoyance to her. But at the end of the story, I can’t say conclusively that Nadia learned anything. There is no catharsis, or release, or even a realization of anything. I believe the last section of the story was to provide that, but it felt too random and disjointed, though I understood that Keuka Lake is near the town where Nadia’s husband was killed, and I guess we are all the fish in our grief.

  • Best of 2024: Most Viewed Post Written in 2024 – Short Story Review: “Neighbors” by Zach Williams

    (I’m a big fan of Zach Williams, and clearly, many people are as well. This was written back in March of 2024.)

    (The short story “Neighbors” by Zach Williams appeared in the March 25th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Devin Oktar Yalkin

    A movie I love, just deeply admire, is Picnic on Hanging Rock by Peter Weir. For a movie that was a hit, and enormously influential, I have met very few people who have seen it. I won’t go into too much detail on it, but it’s a movie about the experience of being involved with a mystery. The characters in the film evolve and grow because of the mystery, and in a sense, the resolution of the mystery is not needed for the story. I can’t prove it, but Zach Williams might have seen this movie, and if he hasn’t, he should watch it, as I think he’d like it.

    “Neighbors” is the second story I have read by Williams, and it is 100% the opposite of “Wood Sorrel House,” yet both stories, just like Hanging Rock, revolve around mysteries that never get solved,  but aren’t really about the mysteries. “Neighbors” is about a man doing a favor and checks in on his elderly neighbor. And I am leaving it at that because I don’t want to ruin the fun of this story.

    Just like in “Wood Sorrel House,” “Neighbors” just got stuck in my head, and wouldn’t go away. The story kept poking at me, asking me to reflect on some of the experiences that I have had, how I reacted in the moment, and how I processed them after. I wish I could point to the one thing, phrase or moment in the story where I got captured by it, but that “thing” remains elusive, unable to be grasped. The closest I can come to is the narrator talking to his wife on the beach about his experience, as that moment felt very honest and true, but I also feel like I was swept up in this story at that point.

    If I had Zach Williams in front of me, and besides asking him if he’s seen Hanging Rock, I might ask him what this story was about, and I’m pretty sure he’d answer with asking me, what did I think the story was about? Except, I don’t think he’s being a smart aleck if he did that. Williams is a very capable writer, who is in control of his craft and is purposefully creating a story that lives in the gray arears that populate most people’s lives. So, if you’re asking what the story was about, then you’re focusing on the mystery, and not what the experience was.

  • Short Story Review: “Minimum Payment Due” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh

    (The short story “Minimum Payment Due” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh appeared in the November 25th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Hannah K. Lee

    If there is one issue that no one talks about, but is shaping the future of America in profound ways; it is debt. Student loans, medical bills, car loans, mortgages, and especially, credit cards. Having debt was unthinkable to my grandparents, as that was a sign of a type of moral failure, as you lacked the ability to live within your means. Now, everyone has some form of debt, and the way it’s going, our collective debt is only going to get bigger. “Minimum Payment Due” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh deals with debt, and the shame and frustration that comes with it. The story also explores the desire for solutions, and faith that resolutions are out there.

    Overly Simple Synopsys: A guy has way too much credit card debt, and can’t get out from under it. He looks for relief in self-help books, therapy, and in the end, an old friend from high school invites him to a “graduation” with an unexpected outcome.

    What really worked for me was the protagonist, and how he found himself in his debt, and how he looked for ways out of it. Oh, the narrator is completely unreliable, as he cannot seem to stop lying to everyone else, including himself, so I see no reason why he would tell us the truth. And I think that plays to the shame that comes with debt. There is also an element that this debt is a form of addiction for the narrator, as he just cannot stop spending money, looking for a purchase that will make him feel better, but only leads him to spend more money. And that’s what I liked most about this story, how it very subtly parallel debt and addiction. I felt that Saïd Sayrafiezadeh was making a very good point that capitalism and consumerism lead to debt addictions in some people, leaving them feeling vacant, thus looking for someone or something to deliver them from their crisis.

    Unfortunately, I had issues with the ending of the piece. It was the whole final section where the narrator goes to his friends “graduation.” I wasn’t sure what point was trying to be made. That debt is just a cycle that repeats over and over again. Or that people in debt have to admit that they are powerless against it, like in AA. Or was the narrator just a cynical person who never had the intention of solving his issues. I feel the point was to be ambiguous, letting the reader decide, but it left me feeling frustrated. Did the narrator learn anything? Does the narrator want to learn anything? Either thought left the story feeling incomplete.

    All in all, I have to say that I did enjoy the piece, with one clear exception. I have said this several times of late when it comes to New Yorker stories, but this one felt like it was the first chapter of a book, or at least a much larger story. I hope that’s what it is, because I would be curious to read that book.

  • Short Story Review: “The Honest Island” by Greg Jackson

    (The short story “The Honest Island” by Greg Jackson appeared in the November 11th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Yosigo

    “The Honest Island” by Greg Jackson revolves around, and functions off of, the idea that the protagonist, Craint, finds himself on an island, but he can’t remember how he got there, or why he is there, or pretty much anything else. It’s a good type of mystery to start a story off with. In case you don’t know, “craint” also happens to be the French word for “fear.” (Yup, it’s that type of story.)

    Craint goes about his business on this small island. Generally, staying at his small B & B, going to the beach, napping, drinking beer at sunset, and contemplating why he can’t remember anything. Yet this doesn’t bother him too much. Though he can’t speak the local language, he has found ways to get by, and even has met a woman whom he occasionally dines with, but nothing much happens with her. Craint can see across the harbor, where a city looms, so he knows he’s not completely cut off from the world, but at the same time, he cannot seem to find the ferry to take him off the island. Then along comes a new person, a man named Budger, who also is confused as to why he is there, and persuades Craint to show him around the island. FYI: “budger” is an English word from the early 1600, which means a person who stirs or budges. (See, that type of story.)

    It’s not a bad story, it’s okay, but at certain moments, it can be heavy handed. (Have I mentioned the character’s names?) What works for the story is how the mystery of the piece, the tone, and setting, work very well together. It feels solid, but also like shifting sand under your feet. Jackson didn’t over play that hand, which kept the story compelling and engaging. Where the story lost steam, was the rush to the conclusion. What came before in the story took it’s time, but the ending felt like it was trying to beat the clock and get to the finish line. For that reason, what the conclusion was didn’t feel complete, and in a strange way, predictable.

  • Short Story Review: “From the Wilderness” by Yukio Mishima (Translated from the Japanese by John Nathan.)

    (The short story “From the Wilderness” by Yukio Mishima appeared in the November 4th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Joanna Blémont

    How does the phrase go; “The unexamined life is not worth living.” At least, that’s the philosophical dictum that has been credited to Socrates. Some days, I think that is the job of a writer; to examine life and make it worth living. That was the mind space I was put in when I finished reading “From the Wilderness” by Yukio Mishima.

    Here’s my overly simplified synopsis: A mental unbalanced youth breaks into the home of the author, which causes the author to contemplate life and loneliness.

    Couple of things here. I appreciated the structure of this piece. The first part was from the author’s point of view of the incident. Then the second part was an overall description of the entire incident, showing how the other people in the home reacted. Then the final part was the author contemplating the event, trying to make sense out of it. In this structure, the narrative of the event goes from very narrow, to expanding to a wider view of the many people in the home, and finally taking in the world of the intruder, and the larger world in general. In this way, the narrator goes through a progression of expansions, which leads to the author having a new understanding of the world he lives in, and creating a feeling that a journey has commenced.

    But what I enjoyed most was that this was a story that took its time. Mishima was patient with his storytelling, letting the ideas of loneliness evolve and develop, which had a natural and authentic feeling to it. I know this is a work of fiction, but with the narrator also having the same name as the author, it creates a conundrum of how much of this is fiction, or reality? Sure, it’s a device, but played well here as it lends itself to give a legitimacy to the thoughts and conclusions.

    They don’t make stories like this anymore. Short fiction that enjoys language (Bonus points to this translation,) playing with language, and isn’t afraid to take time, but not waste our time. Maybe this wasn’t the most profound story I have read recently, but Yukio Mishima reminded me that life is meant to be examined.