Tag: #Fiction

  • Best of 2025: Best Post of the Year – Short Story Review: “Door in the Woods” by Chris Scott

    This isn’t so much about the post being the best, but the flash piece being the best of the year. This story resonated with me, and I kept thinking about it as the year went on. It’s hard to pin down, but I loved the ambiguity. Please, if you haven’t, check out this piece.

    Short Story Review: “Door in the Woods” by Chris Scott

    (The flash fiction story “Door in the Woods” by Chris Scott was presented at Okay Donkey on October 3rd, 2025.)

    The “Door in the Woods” by Chris Scott pulls off my favorite story telling trick; It leaves me with more questions than answers, but not in the frustrating “jerk you around” kind’a way. This is a work that straddles realism and surrealism. It is relatable, authentic, but also funny and absurd. In little over 1,100 words, it is a very specific story addressing a rather universal experience most encounter in their relationships.

    The story starts off with a bit of mystery and tension. It isn’t until the third sentence wherein the door is identified. Even in the second paragraph, when more of a description of the door is given, there hangs in the air a feeling that the door is unnatural in origin. Then to add to the tension, it is shared that this couple has been in therapy in an attempt to save their marriage. Once they decide how to pass by/through the door, and do so, the uneasiness of the situation fades, and seems to be setting up a metaphor for the couples’ relationship. But there’s a complications; each person remembers the encounter with the door differently.

    Was this a supernatural encounter? Is this couple like every couple, and having a moment where they remember things differently? Is the door affecting their ability to remember? Or is this misremembering an act of sabotage by one of the partners? These questions hang, and motivate the narrator, who is the husband in the couple. Truth isn’t the goal, when an answer, a conclusion, or closure is what’s needed.

    Scott does an excellent job creating tension, unease, and relatability in this work. The husband’s need and search for an answer from this unusual event underscores his desire to create stability and peace in this rocky marriage. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t agreed to a lie to keep a fight from bubbling up in their relationship. In this story, you can feel the eggshells the husband stands on, and the fear that this could be the event to push this marriage over the edge.

  • 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.

  • Best of 2025: Best in Show – Taking and Keeping Notes

    I wrote this blog back in 2022, and no one, nobody, looked at it… And then all of a sudden, people started looking at it. You got me, but I’ll take it.

    So, without further ado, here is the Best in Show for 2025 – Taking and Keeping Notes

    Taking and Keeping Notes

    I had this great idea for a story this morning. I was in the kitchen, making the kid’s lunch for school, and it just hit me like lightening. I remember thinking that it was a great idea that I should work on today, but I should finish making the kid’s lunch, and then I’ll jot down some notes. By the time I finished making the lunch, the idea left my body… and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was.

    Nothing

    I tried retracing my steps, doing what I was doing when the idea hit me, but nothing has worked. The idea is lost to the universe…

    Now as I sit here blogging, I wonder, is this just the normal forgetfulness of life, or am I getting older?

    Most likely, a little of both.

    More importantly, I have never had a good system for taking notes. Even in school, like in junior high, I was taught a note taking system, which it’s really just bullet points. I still use to this day, and it sucks. It’s not real coherent, or logical, but I keep using it – never improving on it. The other weekend, we were cleaning out the office, and I found a couple of legal pads that had meeting notes from the second to last job I had, and my notes aren’t really helpful, as I can’t really understand what I was taking the notes for. That could also be a sign that the job wasn’t very good.

    Some people are great at taking notes, and cataloging things. I was rather impressed with several friends for listing all the books and movies they watched in the past year. Not only did they have an impressive count, but I thought it was equally impressive that they had the wherewithal to just follow through on collecting that information. That is, if they were telling the truth. People do lie on the internet.

    As this is a new year, and I seem to lack the ability to remember things, I will need to step up my note game, or outlining, or just keeping track of shit. I am getting older.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Most Annoying Thing in the World, Dogs in Sweaters, and Christmas Lights

    (City lights and business nights…)

    I have a canker sore on the bottom of my tongue. Sweet Lord in Heaven, it is the most annoying thing in my life right now. It hurts a little, sure; that little sting of pain when I eat or talk or swallow or brush my teeth, or do anything like laying in bed. But what is really annoying is how I am thinking about it all the time. Can’t eat anything too spicy, and don’t talk too much, because you might droll on yourself. I ate a cookie last night, and it hurt like hell on a stick, so now I have second thoughts about eating a cookie. And this is the time of year when you’re supposed to eat cookies freely and openly and without thought… I’ve had the canker sore for three days now, and I know me, which means that I have about four more day to go before it decides to move on its way.

    Dogs in sweaters is just funny to me. I’m not knocking dogs in sweaters, as some little guys do need them. But on the whole, when I see a dog in a sweater, it makes me think the dog is playing dress up. Like the dog has a little closet of clothes to pick from. But like I said, some dogs need a sweater. Case in point:

    I love New York City at Christmas time. People are generally in a good mood, and there is a buzz around here during the Holidays. And then there are the lights; colored lights are everywhere. But what I like most when it comes to lights are the Christmas Trees people place in front of their windows; decorated and lit up. Like silent home guards watching over the City.

  • 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.