Tag: literature

  • Short Story Review: “Project” by Rachel Cusk

    (The short story “Project” by Rachel Cusk appeared in the September 1st & 8th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photo illustration by Stephen Doyle

    I am a big fan of Rachel Cusk; have been for some time now. There are a great number of reasons why I enjoy her work, and when I read anything by her, such as “Project” in this week’s New Yorker, my fandom evolves into admiration, and even a little jealously. I am not jealous of her talent as a writer, envious might be the better word for that, but when I read her work, I wish I was the type of writer that had time. Cusk’s fictional version of herself, though narrator might be a fairer description, possess the greatest gift of all; time. Time to observe and contemplate.

    In “Project,” the narrator contemplates how who we are gets created. This contemplation leads to a path that bends and turns and takes us to people in the narrator’s life. First we meet M, a movie star and model. The narrator is thinking of writing M’s autobiography, which M’s response is to “…just make it up.” In this first section of the story, the narrator intertwines her interactions with M, while also speaking of a book she is reading by a woman who details the horrid abuse she suffered at the hands of her stepfather. It is a strange comparison, if not a juxtaposition. In Cusk’s assured hands, we see how these woman took their situations, fought back and went forth to create better versions of themselves, yet both spoke of a moment where their childhoods were lost… But even as I try to describe this, I am not doing this story justice. The story moves on the narrator’s partner, and his bout with an aliment and the need to a brief stay in a hospital. Then there are questions of the time we have and how we share it. Why we live the way we live and where we live…. See, not doing this justice.

    This story falls into my favorite Cusk style of writing – It just flows. Maybe this type of writing is like stream-of-consciousness-lite. These thoughts and ideas have depth and weight to them, but they don’t get tangled up in minutia and tangents. All of these disparate ideas roll across the page, with observations of the life the narrator lives, but also how some of these truth and universal; Or at least there is a hope that they are. This is a story seems to be celebrating the existential gift of being able to create our self, and chose how to live out that creation. And to do all of this, to have a life that can be observed, we need time for reflection.

    And through all of it, the ins and outs of this story, Cusk has a wonderful melancholic final paragraph. Not so much an observation, or a contemplation, but a memory of raising her children; when trust was tangible and innocent. That taking the time, to remember and re-experience, is a continuous step in the project of self creation.

  • 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.