Tag: London

  • Talking to Another Fan

    You might have heard, but I am a Tottenham Hotspur fan. There reason for it, as I have no personal connection to the club, is that I mistakenly believed that Tottenham was the closest Premier League team to Abbey Road. (That would be Arsenal.) But once you pick your club, it’s your club for life. (I didn’t make the rules, I just live within them.)

    I am aware that one of the local supporter’s club, NYSpurs, meets up at Flannery’s on 14th Street to watch all matches. I have thought about going to hang out and watch one, but that would require that I go there by myself, as I have no other Spurs fan to go with. My wife and daughter support my fandom, but not enough to go to a bar at 7am to cheer on my club.

    Every now and then, I see someone on the street with some Tottenham gear on. Like a hat, sweater, scarf, but never seen a jersey. Every time I see a person decked out, I think I should say something, but I never follow through.

    Then last Friday, when I was on my way to pick up the kid, a woman stepped out of her building and she had a Tottenham sweater. Now was my chance to connect with another fan. You know; #COYS

    So, I said to her as I pointed to her sweater, “Hey, you’re a Tottenham fan.” Big smile on my friendly face.

    Followed by a scowl with a British accent, “What!? What do you want?”

    “The, ah… You have a Tottenham sweater, and I was saying…”

    “Oh!” She smiled at me. “The jumper! It’s my husbands. He’s the fan. It’s not my thing. I was just cold.”

    So much for trying to talk to another fan.

    I’ll just keep it to myself.

  • Short Story Review: “The True Margaret” by Karan Mahajan

    (The short story “The True Margaret” by Karan Mahajan appeared in the August 14th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Eliza Bourner for The New Yorker

    “The True Margaret” by Karan Mahajan, is an interesting short story, which ultimately is a well-crafted piece of fiction, yet I never found myself engrossed by it. The story has a great opening paragraph, which is compelling, but what follows is a deliberate plodding paced story that never rises in intensity, even as the climax approaches. As I finished the story, I liked it, but I was left feeling unsatisfied. I will say this; I do recommend reading this story.

    All the pieces are here for an effective short story. It is set in the past of 1959 London. An arranged marriage, an Indian bride brought 5,000 miles from her home. The adjustment to a new city and culture. The shadow of colonialism, patriarchy, class, and sexism. Questions about the idea of freedom being a reality or an illusion. How threats grow larger and more diabolical in our minds as we dwell on them. The duality of one’s nature. The courage to escape one’s situation, and a resolution that delivers our protagonist to a safer place, but not a rewarding place. There is a lot going on here, and it is all brought up in a natural way, never feeling forced.

    And still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of not being satisfied with the ending. Finally, I had to come to the conclusion that this ending was the point. That the plodding pace was there to help illustrate this point. Doing the right thing, breaking the mold, saving yourself doesn’t mean you get the happy ending – it only means you survived to live another day. And even if you get years beyond that incident, to where it doesn’t necessarily feel real anymore, it sometime can never be forgotten, or forgiven.

  • ODDS and ENDS: World Travel, This Made Me Laugh, Easter, and You Know

    (I write, you read, we’re all happy)

    I have not left the confines of the United States, and that is a situation I would like to correct. I would like to leave the North American continent, and see the world. And when I say that, I really mean there is only one place that I have to go and see before I die, and that is the zebra crossing in front of Abbey Road. I want to walk it, and have my picture taken while crossing it, and I even what to be in other people’s pictures when they cross it. That’s it. I just want to be in the same place where my favorite and best band once walked. Everything else in the world, I can take or leave. Sorry Taj Mahal, and the Pyramids.

    Sesame Street is a National Treasure!

    https://ew.com/tv/brett-goldstein-sesame-street-first-look-cookie-monster-tamir/

    As a secular family, Easter is hard to explain to a seven-year old. She loves the Easter Bunny, and the coming of Spring, but trying to make her understand that people get very happy about the son of God getting killed, then coming back from the dead, and NOT being a zombie, is a little hard for her to wrap her head around. But we try.

    Tottenham is in fourth place. That is all.

  • Short Story Review: “The Complete” by Gabriel Smith

    (The short story “The Complete,” by Gabriel Smith appeared in Issue 6, of The Drift.)

    At the start of the pandemic, my wife was on one of those huge group chats with her friends, all attempting to use Zoom, and recreate some sense of normal human connection. This was probably April or May 2020. Most of my wife’s friends are in the creative fields; writers, actors, directors, poets. My wife told me later, that on one of those early calls, they all started discussing how they thought the pandemic was going to be portrayed in movies, TV, theatre, novels, and so on. Some thought it would usher in a new version of hyper-realism, another group thought it would be treated how 9/11 was. I don’t know, but since those early days, it feels like every couple of months, someone writes something asking, “How will the story of COVID be told?”

    Gabriel Smith’s story, “The Complete,” is the first work of fiction I have read that has tried to take a crack at it. I don’t think I could give a quick summary, or even a long one, for this story. It takes place in London, sort of. It’s about a writer, kind of. And COVID is happening. While the story doesn’t have a formal plot, it does have atmosphere, mood, and an almost tangible ethereal presence. Oh, and a real good sense of humor.

    Two main things struck me with the story. First, I felt like someone captured what my brain went through during the dark days of the pandemic. How my imagination would wander and drift, break things apart and put them back together. I had so much time to think about everything that had ever happened to me, and way too much time to think about the end of the world. Second, the whole piece worked in this wonderful staccato rhythm, with each section of the story coming in, then cutting to another part, then another cut. This method of storytelling wasn’t new to me, I have read other attempts of this style, and I was aware that at some point all of these tangents would tie together. But the fun wasn’t waiting to see if it came together; The fun was watching how it came together. Because I can see how someone might complain that this story is all style and no substance, yet I would argue, strongly, that the substance, the weight of this story, was in the style which captured a still undefinable time.