I had the hardest time coming up with a solid opening paragraph for this review of Kara Melissa’s non-fiction piece “They Only Come Out at Night.” I like to think that I’m good at introductions, but not this time. The issue I am having is how I can’t wrap my arms around this essay to find one single starting point to explain how this honest, interwoven, melancholic story affected me.
From the first paragraph, Melissa pulled me in with an intense honesty; confidant in its story telling. Not for shock value, nor did this feel like oversharing, or a performative confession. This was a clear declaration of deep emotions, fully self-aware that maybe some people wouldn’t understand this situation, but it was true.
What follows are three tangents, platted together with connecting themes of MRI’s, hospitals, logic, brain function, and most importantly love; the compassion, empathy and longings which form in situations Melissa finds herself in. Through all of it, I felt this wrap of a happy melancholy resignation to it all. I wish I could explain that better, but it’s what I feel someone who has loved deeply, and lost greatly would feel towards the world.
I relished how the essay is presented straight forward and logical – The descriptions of medical treatments, aliments, and the causes. The setting is during the Covid lockdowns, and with the clinical narrative, Melissa creates a feeling of isolation and detachment. This makes her desire for connection, understanding, and compassion all the more pertinent.
I don’t want to belabor this review, as I am purposefully not going into all the details of the essay, because you should go read it. But I will say that the last section left me with a wonderful feeling of hopefulness. That even in the darkness, when we feel lost, that the love we have for each other can carry us through. With everything going on, I needed to be reminded of that fact.
So, the kid has started middle school, and new things have been thrown at her from her school, and on the whole, she has handled all of these changes admirably.
With the exception of homework.
Now, I am NOT here to say that her school has given her too much work, or any of that stuff. No, I believe that her school is rolling out homework at a respectable pace.
It’s just that the kid doesn’t like doing homework, because she’d rather be talking to her friends, or playing online games. You know…
And this isn’t like the first time that the kid has had homework. Even in her elementary school, she was required to read for thirty minutes a night, and do a page of math problems. If things were very hectic, she might also have a little science homework as well. Tops, all of this work would take her an hour. Most nights, she was done in forty minutes, and with only a minor amount of grumbling. Middle school homework takes about an hour.
As we have been dealing with this new found disgust of homework, it reminded me of when she first got “homework” back in second grade. It was like five math problems that she could do at home, and she was excited to take care of it first thing after school. I get, because I remember doing the same thing at her age.
For me, not that I 100% remember what my “homework” was, let’s say math, but it was the fact that I felt like I was older, doing ready studying, really learning. Home work was that thing my older brothers had to do, and it must be a good thing because they were smarter than me, so homework made you smarter. And I wanted to be smarter. What I do remember concretely was the feeling of accomplishment for completing whatever that homework was, and also how my brothers told me I shouldn’t be excited to get homework because it was like a punishment.
Clearly things changed, and I also remember the awful years in junior high, with so much homework, and feeling like it was looming over my life. I don’t remember that feeling in high school, though I know there was an enormous amount of homework. College was college, and studying and homework was just part of the deal – no point in complaining about it, but, again, it never felt soul crushing like junior high.
Either way, life has come full circle, and the kid hates the amount of homework she has; no matter the size of work. I guess this is a lesson she has to learn – get your work done so you can do the stuff you want to do.
The dirty secret of Halloween is that parents eat their kids candy when they aren’t looking. Any parent who denies this happens is a liar. We all do it. When we parents get together while taking the kids out Trick or Treating, it’s what we talk about; “What candy did they get? How much did they get? It’s just not healthy to let kids eat that much candy. We’re doing them a service.” The wife and I do buy a mixed bag of candy that we hide in the apartment and snack off of… but eventually, late one night, possibly after a few drinks, we reach into the kid’s bucket and see that she has three Skittles pouches, so she won’t miss one. And it’s awful when we do it, and we feel so guilty, but forbidden candy goes so well with watching Great British Baking Show.
Seems like Tottenham is the only team I have left to support for the foreseeable future. Cowboys have crapped out, and I could care less about the World Series. Sure, I guess I could again try my hand at following the Knicks, they look like they should have a good season. No, it’s Tottenham Hotspur or bust! They are playing really well in the Europa League, and are sitting at 2nd in that tournament’s table. It just them in the Premier League that is pulling me down. Those three losses are like an albatross, and it also seems like they give up a goal right away at the start of each match… But… it’s still early.
Oh, the Merch Store is open. Go get all your 1999 Blogging Gear are great low prices. Remember, each item sold goes to a good cause which is helping me buy a new MacBook Air, or sending my kid to college. All depends on how much we raise.
(The short story “Hi Daddy” by Matthew Klam appeared in the October 14th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)
Photograph by Ryan Lowry for The New Yorker
As I get older, I have this dualistic thought in my head when I think of my parents; How much I am like them, and how much I am not like them. This dualism can cause great joy, and unbelievable anxiety in me. I also know as a middle-aged man, that the more things change, the more they stay the same. With Matthew Klam’s story “Hi Daddy,” a well-intended but uneven work, he attempts to address these issues.
Here’s my way to simple synopsis: Middle aged man says goodbye to his teenage daughter as she goes off to Europe for the summer before she starts college, and then he visits his elderly parents, realizing that he is more like his father than he wants to admit.
Emotionally, I dug this story, and identified strongly with the narrator. There was an honesty in the narrator, that sometimes got very close to self-pity and whining, but Klam was able to pull it back in time. The narrator, in his family, has the role of primary care giver, as his wife has the job that earns the majority of their living. This role has left the narrator feeling taken for granted and left out, though his wife does point out that he is the cause of this situation, as he can be emotionally unavailable, especially to their daughter. Part of his issue stems from having trouble dealing with his daughter leaving home, and the changes that it will bring. When he visits his parents, his father has fallen and has dementia. The dementia means the father no longer recognizes the son, and the fall means that the once stoic and distant father has become feeble and dependent. Again, the theme of change, and the act of dealing with change, gives the story a weight here, and the narrator’s inability to know how to deal with these situations and emotions has a melancholic honesty to it.
Yet, I had issues with this story, and they were all technical storytelling issues. When I finished the piece, I was left feeling unsatisfied, and that was due to none of the story threads felt wrapped up. Many emotional tangents are cast about in this story, but they don’t come back or lead to a resolution. The narrator says that he doesn’t like his parents, but the issues are with his father, so why is the mother put in the same bucket with the father? When the narrator realizes that he is becoming like his father, will that influence future actions of the narrator?
That last one was the kicker for me, for that was the driver for the unsatisfying feeling the story created in me.
If this is a normal “Hero’s Journey” story, then the narrator’s realization that he is like his father would then influence an action in the climax of the story, therefore allowing the hero to defeat the obstacle and view the world in a different way. The best that I can tell, the hero’s obstacle is himself, the climax has to do with the horse getting free (horse also metaphor for father/son,) yet the narrator’s actions in dealing with the horse are not influenced by his realization. If this is a normal “Rising Action, Climax, Resolution” story, then I’m not sure what to make out of the last two sections as a resolution; the thoughts the narrator has about his daughter’s choice in boyfriends and her actions towards them, and final section which is a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” cliché. That left me to believe that this whole exercise was just a meditation on the narrator dealing with a rough two days, and the narrator is the same person at the start of the story as he is at the end of the story. And if that is true, the narrator doesn’t change, then why are we being told this story?
I will say this, “Hi Daddy” has some very fine points, and some crisp, honesty imagery and writing. Matthew Klam is writing about a character who is flawed, which is just ripe for storytelling. And it almost gets there. He just didn’t stick the landing.
* “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”
