Tag: Short Story Form

  • Short Story Review – “Séance at the Dinner Party” by Tori Palmore

    (The flash piece “Séance at the Dinner Party” by Tori Palmore first appeared at Rejection Letters on November 27th, 2024.)

    Families can suck, and in literature, this is fertile ground for inspiration which has been plowed many times over, and will forever produce material that will be harvested for our consumption. As I get older, family dramas have become more fascinating to me, and Tori Palmore’s “Séance at the Dinner Party” is a absorbing stream of consciousness entry into the field.

    The narrator takes us through their thoughts/experience/emotions at this family gathering, I believe it is Thanksgiving. There is the subtext of death and the loss of a sibling, perhaps the narrator’s safety at these gatherings, and the repetitive “Brother is Dead” adds a staccato rhythm to the prose, keeping the piece unsettled. I appreciated Palmore’s use of short sentences to build tension and keep the emotions and reactions moving forward. The piece never feels like it can stop, that it will perpetually play over and over again, not only in the narrator’s life, but also in the mind, even when they leave this dinner party of family. How the narrator is uncomfortable with their family, how they don’t feel accepted, to the point of micro aggressions signaling that they are not fully accepted. Yet the narrator keeps their rage, even grief, in check. Though the narrator does escape this evening with their family, the ironic knowledge is that this event will repeat itself again.

    Palmore’s “Séance at the Dinner Party” is the type of flash fiction I look forward to reading. It is direct, clear, and puts me in a moment or emotional state that I can relate to, or learn from. And in the piece, Palmore also creates a moment that also feels as if it exists outside of time, which adds to the resonance of the story.

  • Short Story Review: Two Micros by Jeffrey Hermann

    (The piece “Two Micros by Jeffrey Hermann” appeared at Okay Donkey on November 29th, 2024.)

    And these are two truly micro pieces that Jeffrey Hermann created, each under 250 words. The first is titled, “The Voice of God Gives Up the Act,” and the second is, “If it’s Not One Thing it’s a Million Things.” Both are efficient, idiosyncratic works that brought to me such an innocent and lovely feeling of joy in their simplicity. Yet each micro was inventive in its imagination and storytelling, and left me feeling better about life.

    “The Voice of God Gives Up the Act,” spoke to me about how at some point parents stop being authority figures, and become people, and in some cases small people. And also, how our children can become little deities in our lives, but they, like our parents, will inevitably transmogrify to their human form, too. I appreciated that these observations were not at the expense of the gods, but more like melancholic observations. Especially with the little drama of the small god spilling the smoothie, which provided this piece with a slight bit of drama, climax and a touching resolution.

    “If it’s Not One Thing it’s a Million Things,” struck me as more like poetry than prose, but it was prose. Maybe stream of consciousness prose? It was reminiscent of my mind wandering gently as I drift off the sleep. There is an ease to these words, and how the sentences flow together, and one point repeating a phrase, like your brain is stuck on a loop. It felt like this was the memory of a good day, not life altering, but a good day where the little things and are seen and acknowledged.

    Besides enjoying these two micros, I must admit that I was rather envious of Jeffrey Hermann’s talent and skill as a writer. In a very small package, he created two works that caused me to view my day differently, and change my mood. He made me wonder about the people I love, whom I give power over me, and how they will change over time. And all those moments we spend in our short little lives – those moments do mean something.  

  • 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.

  • Short Story Review: “Minimum Payment Due” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh

    (The short story “Minimum Payment Due” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh appeared in the November 25th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Hannah K. Lee

    If there is one issue that no one talks about, but is shaping the future of America in profound ways; it is debt. Student loans, medical bills, car loans, mortgages, and especially, credit cards. Having debt was unthinkable to my grandparents, as that was a sign of a type of moral failure, as you lacked the ability to live within your means. Now, everyone has some form of debt, and the way it’s going, our collective debt is only going to get bigger. “Minimum Payment Due” by Saïd Sayrafiezadeh deals with debt, and the shame and frustration that comes with it. The story also explores the desire for solutions, and faith that resolutions are out there.

    Overly Simple Synopsys: A guy has way too much credit card debt, and can’t get out from under it. He looks for relief in self-help books, therapy, and in the end, an old friend from high school invites him to a “graduation” with an unexpected outcome.

    What really worked for me was the protagonist, and how he found himself in his debt, and how he looked for ways out of it. Oh, the narrator is completely unreliable, as he cannot seem to stop lying to everyone else, including himself, so I see no reason why he would tell us the truth. And I think that plays to the shame that comes with debt. There is also an element that this debt is a form of addiction for the narrator, as he just cannot stop spending money, looking for a purchase that will make him feel better, but only leads him to spend more money. And that’s what I liked most about this story, how it very subtly parallel debt and addiction. I felt that Saïd Sayrafiezadeh was making a very good point that capitalism and consumerism lead to debt addictions in some people, leaving them feeling vacant, thus looking for someone or something to deliver them from their crisis.

    Unfortunately, I had issues with the ending of the piece. It was the whole final section where the narrator goes to his friends “graduation.” I wasn’t sure what point was trying to be made. That debt is just a cycle that repeats over and over again. Or that people in debt have to admit that they are powerless against it, like in AA. Or was the narrator just a cynical person who never had the intention of solving his issues. I feel the point was to be ambiguous, letting the reader decide, but it left me feeling frustrated. Did the narrator learn anything? Does the narrator want to learn anything? Either thought left the story feeling incomplete.

    All in all, I have to say that I did enjoy the piece, with one clear exception. I have said this several times of late when it comes to New Yorker stories, but this one felt like it was the first chapter of a book, or at least a much larger story. I hope that’s what it is, because I would be curious to read that book.

  • Short Story Review: “The Honest Island” by Greg Jackson

    (The short story “The Honest Island” by Greg Jackson appeared in the November 11th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Yosigo

    “The Honest Island” by Greg Jackson revolves around, and functions off of, the idea that the protagonist, Craint, finds himself on an island, but he can’t remember how he got there, or why he is there, or pretty much anything else. It’s a good type of mystery to start a story off with. In case you don’t know, “craint” also happens to be the French word for “fear.” (Yup, it’s that type of story.)

    Craint goes about his business on this small island. Generally, staying at his small B & B, going to the beach, napping, drinking beer at sunset, and contemplating why he can’t remember anything. Yet this doesn’t bother him too much. Though he can’t speak the local language, he has found ways to get by, and even has met a woman whom he occasionally dines with, but nothing much happens with her. Craint can see across the harbor, where a city looms, so he knows he’s not completely cut off from the world, but at the same time, he cannot seem to find the ferry to take him off the island. Then along comes a new person, a man named Budger, who also is confused as to why he is there, and persuades Craint to show him around the island. FYI: “budger” is an English word from the early 1600, which means a person who stirs or budges. (See, that type of story.)

    It’s not a bad story, it’s okay, but at certain moments, it can be heavy handed. (Have I mentioned the character’s names?) What works for the story is how the mystery of the piece, the tone, and setting, work very well together. It feels solid, but also like shifting sand under your feet. Jackson didn’t over play that hand, which kept the story compelling and engaging. Where the story lost steam, was the rush to the conclusion. What came before in the story took it’s time, but the ending felt like it was trying to beat the clock and get to the finish line. For that reason, what the conclusion was didn’t feel complete, and in a strange way, predictable.