Tag: Lauren Groff

  • 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: “Between the Shadow and the Soul” by Lauren Groff

    (The short story “Between the Shadow and the Soul” by Lauren Groff appeared in the December 16th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Xuebing Du for The New Yorker

    Sometimes when I read a short story, in my mind I can hear the gears of the story’s mechanics grinding away, snapping into place, moving it all forward, and churning out the work of fiction. Other times, the author’s machinations are as silent as an evening breeze in summer, but still felt and causing an impact. Then Lauren Groff creates the story “Between the Shadow and the Soul” where I can feel the mechanics of the piece, but is written so well, with such character, flavor, and so wonderfully brutally honest in regard to couplehood, that it left me feeling better having gone on this journey with these characters.

    What we have is a story about Willie and Eliza, but really about Eliza, a couple that has been together for over twenty-five plus years in upstate New York. They live in an old home they purchased right after they got married, and have spent those years fixing up. Now, with Eliza at fifty, she has reached retirement age from her job at the Post Office, and decided to act upon it. But retirement doesn’t suit her, and with Willie’s encouragement, and occasional participation, Eliza begins to explore life through local arts classes, pilates, and especially a gardening class. (Now, go read the story.)

    When I said that I could feel the mechanics of this story, what I meant by that was how the craft and structure of this story was very close to the surface. When the joke about kids was made, I knew that was coming back into play. The couple Eliza discovered having sex at the boathouse; there’s another meaning there. The fact that Willie and Eliza’s relationship started clandestinely; oh, you that this was foreshadowing something to come. Yet, I can also say this story did take a winding path which never felt superfluous. At all times, the story felt purposeful and controlled by a steady hand.

    That deft touch was never more on display than Eliza’s growth over the course of the story. She is such a complex and detailed character. There are many authentic pieces to her, but what I connected with most was how “retirement” wasn’t a reward but a prison for Eliza; she is the type of person who works at life, and losing that work from her job, in addition to the loss of working on their home, she found herself lost. Such a clear and easy situation to understand and grasp as to why it would bring about her motivation in the next part of the story. But I would also be remiss not to touch on the relationship between Eliza and Willie, and their level of intimacy. Not just sexual intimacy, but the intimacy of knowing your partner after so many years, and knowing when they are hurting, and when they are hiding. And I loved how they both grew and moved forward in this story, and one of the conflicts was how they had to learn and adjust to loving this new person.

    Like all good stories, I am leaving out so much, and I know if I were to read it again, I would discover new depths and details to Eliza and her life with Willie. To have a story about growth and discovering passion, and also to be a story where neither member of the couple is the “bad guy,” left the whole piece feeling refreshing, alive, and honest.

  • Personal Review: Arcadia by Lauren Groff

    (Spoilers, I think. I’m writing this now, but it might change.)

    I got Arcadia as a Christmas gift back in 2015, and then never read it. I want to believe that I am normal in that regard; that I receive books as gifts, and then never get around to reading them… for like a decade. In my effort to catch up on my reading, I made the time for Laruen Groff’s book. As I am a fan of her short stories, I was looking forward to reading one of her novels.

    Arcadia is about a guy named Bit, and the novel follows him through his life; childhood, adolescents, and adulthood. Bit’s real name is Ridley, but when he is born to his hippie parents, he is a very small baby, and is nicknamed “Bit” because he is “Little Bit of a Hippie.” His parents are part of a hippie commune on a sprawling, but neglected, upstate New York estate, Arcadia, which the commune is in the process of repairing and repurposing. This is the first section of the book, and it establishes the dynamic between the community, leadership, and family life for Bit, and the community as a whole. The next section of the book deals with the Arcadia, and the second wave of people who want to join the commune. Here we find Bit in his adolescence, experiencing love and sex, and the pressures from his parents to behave and act in support of their desires and goals. Inevitable, all of this leads to the breakup of the commune, and Bit’s family escapes to New York City. And though there are several sections, the book moves into the third part, which is Bit’s adulthood, and the creation of his own family.

    I will say this, the first section does go on. It is laying the groundwork for this novel, and it does pay off in the end, but getting through it did feel taxing at times. What we are getting in this section is seeing this world through Bit’s eyes, and his not fully understanding what is happening. We see the dynamic between his parents, Abe and Hannah. We see Hannah’s bouts of depression, and her inability for a time to get out of bed. We also learn about Bit’s empathetic nature, his desire to care for others as he is taken in by the women who handle the childbirth in the commune. Arcadia is a magical world to Bit, yet Bit also thinks the whole world is like Arcadia. It’s an innocence that we know is doomed to conflict with reality eventually. This point is made with the end of the section as Abe falls off the roof of Arcadia house, breaking his back, and leaving him in a wheelchair. I respect the point that Groff was trying to make, but I didn’t like the way it was executed. Abe’s accident is treated like a button to end the section, like a dramatic trick to get the reader hooked to move on to the next section. It felt odd against the flow of the prose and the telling of the story.

    With this ground work completed, and Bit entering adolescence, he begins to view Arcadia differently. He starts to notice the divisions between adults, the hypocrisy of the commune, and even his parents lack of commitment to the commune’s ideals. This is when the novel starts to pick up. A plot is laid out, actions are taken, and Bit starts to develop into a rounded character. We are also given Helle, the daughter of the commune’s leader, and the girl that Bit is in love with. She is a troubled girl, and more than just a free spirit, she wants to run as close to the razor’s edge as possible. She is destructive, and Bit’s attraction to her is understandable; he thinks he can save her. The commune is now being inundated with new arrivals, runaways and burnouts, who aren’t interested in the communal living so much as being away from society. As I said before, this all culminates with the commune breaking apart, but what I found very interesting was how the nearby Amish community stops by. In a sense, the Amish are an older version of Arcadia, but on the opposite end of the spectrum – ridged, disciplined, and closed off. The Amish hang on the edges, as if saying there is a way to make this work, but it is work, and not sex/drugs fun. The world does come crashing in, and when that happens, this book tells us the only people you can count on is your family, ideals be damned.

    And we jump to 2018, which was the “future” when this book was published. Bit is now an adult, having been living in New York City since the fall of Arcadia. He is a photography professor at a NYC college, and father to a daughter, Grete, whose mother is Helle. It is explained that Bit and Helle reconnected later in life, and though she tried, Helle cannot change who she is, and continues her destructive ways; she up and leaves Bit and Grete, and is never seen again. I want to give credit to Lauren Groff here. I think every other writer on the planet would have had Helle come back at the end of this book, to have some sort of reconnection or closure. I loved that this book has shit happen to people, it doesn’t make sense, and they have to deal with it. Bit and Grete have to be hurt, and learn from it, and move on, but that doesn’t mean the hurt goes away, or doesn’t stop affecting them years later. It was an honesty that I wasn’t expecting in this story, but was so grateful that it was there.

    I say this because the climax of the novel is Hannah’s slow death. It is handled with a brutal honesty and also with a poetic melancholy, which mixed together in an authenticity that was wonderful and difficult to read. Watching the person you loved first in life, slowly waste away, and become the shadow of themselves is one of the cruelest acts in life. The pain is immeasurable, deep, and crushing, and all of that is shown here. It made me have flashbacks to my mother in her final days in hospice; it was so painful, but I wanted to be there for her, so she wouldn’t be alone in her final moments. I sympathized with Bit, and I saw how all the events and experiences he had been through had prepared him for that moment with Hannah. It wasn’t surprising that Bit crawled into bed and didn’t get out after Hannah passed away. And it also wasn’t surprising that Bit pulled himself out of that bed after a week. After everything he had been through, I knew he could handle this. He was hurt and wounded, but his family did prepare him for this world.

    But, the real reason why I loved this book, was Groff’s prose. I have been trying to find a way to describe it, but the world I keep falling back on is poetic. Every word feels deliberate, contemplated, and purposeful. Maybe the plot/narrative had a few minor issues, but the prose, the language, was impeccable. It captured a feeling of the commune, but also of an idealism and connection to nature, and between the characters, which was so vital to the emotional development of Bit. Yet, the language also evolved with Bit as he grew, never staying stagnant. It is an impressive accomplishment in writing.

    I’m embarrassed that I waited so long to read this book. I’m also embarrassed at how impatient I am with novels. I want stories to get going NOW! I have forgotten that a good novel needs time, which might be one of the most obviously naïve things that I have said in a while. Clearly I needed to be reminded. This story took it’s time to create the journey it’s characters needed to take; one that allowed them to grow, become better versions of themselves. And the ideal society we need is the one we create with our family, and the friends we keep. Who we let in, and who we choose to love.

  • Best of 2022 – Short Story Review: “Annunciation” by Lauren Groff

    (The short Story “Annunciation,” by Lauren Groff appeared in the February 14th & 21st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    First of all, I am not related to Lauren Groff. Second, this is the first short story by her that I have read. And it was a good one to start with. From the first paragraph, I felt like I was on a journey, and was being guided by a person who knew how to unfold a story. If you haven’t pieced it together, I liked this story, and I am suggesting that you should read it. For that reason, I will forgo a synopsis of the piece, and give my reflections on it.

    Lauren Groff crafted a well-made short story. As it unfolded, I didn’t know where I was being taken, but after I finished, I could see the structure that held the story up. The opening, narrator development, introduction of characters, seemingly random incidents, rising action, climax, resolution, and even a denouement, which not too long ago I was complaining about the use of denouement in short stories. I mean, the title tied in to the denouement, as well. But the structure wasn’t the only admirable quality of the story.

    What I loved reading was about this narrator who was not perfect, who did struggle, and was still struggling. A person who had these moments, anecdotes even, that represented the life she led, and she still found herself thinking of these people, and the mysteries that never will be solved. And, this was a personal favorite of mine, the narrator was literary person without being a writer character. I fully believed that she was introspective, empathetic, and aware of the small details of the world she inhabited.

    But it was the theme, the through line, of motherhood that ran through the story that impressed me. Though I didn’t catch it as I was reading it, the denouement captured, and focused the theme for me. It made me reevaluate each of the women in the story, their form of motherhood, and how they are viewed or appreciated by their children for what they do, or have done for them. This theme of motherhood didn’t fit neatly in a box, meaning that I didn’t feel the story was trying to say motherhood is “this way.” Mothers are all over the map; good, bad, wonderful, awful, secretive, open, all different and yet the same, somehow. And for some, motherhood takes a toll.

    That makes the story sound dark or overtly complex, but I found myself optimistic, and hopeful at the end of the story. Lauren Groff created a journey in this story, so we all came out on the other side different from this experience. I liked the world that this story is in, and the characters who inhabit it. Stories like this leave me feeling inspired; that short stories can express truths, and have weight. That they are worth reading and creating.

  • BEST OF 2022: Short Story Review of “Annunciation” by Lauren Groff

    (The short Story “Annunciation,” by Lauren Groff appeared in the February 14th & 21st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    First of all, I am not related to Lauren Groff. Second, this is the first short story by her that I have read. And it was a good one to start with. From the first paragraph, I felt like I was on a journey, and was being guided by a person who knew how to unfold a story. If you haven’t pieced it together, I liked this story, and I am suggesting that you should read it. For that reason, I will forgo a synopsis of the piece, and give my reflections on it.

    Lauren Groff crafted a well-made short story. As it unfolded, I didn’t know where I was being taken, but after I finished, I could see the structure that held the story up. The opening, narrator development, introduction of characters, seemingly random incidents, rising action, climax, resolution, and even a denouement, which not too long ago I was complaining about the use of denouement in short stories. I mean, the title tied in to the denouement, as well. But the structure wasn’t the only admirable quality of the story.

    What I loved reading was about this narrator who was not perfect, who did struggle, and was still struggling. A person who had these moments, anecdotes even, that represented the life she led, and she still found herself thinking of these people, and the mysteries that never will be solved. And, this was a personal favorite of mine, the narrator was literary person without being a writer character. I fully believed that she was introspective, empathetic, and aware of the small details of the world she inhabited.

    But it was the theme, the through line, of motherhood that ran through the story that impressed me. Though I didn’t catch it as I was reading it, the denouement captured, and focused the theme for me. It made me reevaluate each of the women in the story, their form of motherhood, and how they are viewed or apricated by their children for what they do, or have done for them. This theme of motherhood didn’t fit neatly in a box, meaning that I didn’t feel the story was trying to say motherhood is “this way.” Mothers are all over the map; good, bad, wonderful, awful, secretive, open, all different and yet the same, somehow. And for some, motherhood takes a toll.

    That makes the story sound dark or overtly complex, but I found myself optimistic, and hopeful at the end of the story. Lauren Groff created a journey in this story, so we all came out on the other side different from this experience. I liked the world that this story is in, and the characters who inhabit it. Stories like this leave me feeling inspired; that short stories can express truths, and have weight. That they are worth reading and creating.