Tag: Short Story Writer

  • Short Story Review: “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari (Translated, from the Italian, by Brian Robert Moore.)

    (The short story “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz” by Michele Mari appeared in the May 29th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (This story will be SPOILED, so beware!)

    Illustration by Guido Scarabottolo

    The old “losing your ball over the fence” story. It’s nice to know that boys in other countries have this issue as well. Seems like most kids grow up with this situation – the ball goes over the fence, and it is never seen again. Then the imagination takes over allowing wild stories to be created about the owner of the yard, and their dark evil soul, for only the vilest of humans would refuse to return a ball. I would say, “The Sandlot” comes to mind for most people when you talk about this situation. And it is a wonderful premise/structure/metaphor to address youth, nostalgia, coming of age, and a host of other ideas that writers have when they create stories about boys.

    Michele Mari’s story, “The Soccer Balls of Mr. Kurz,” in essence is no different. Here the boys are in a boarding school playing soccer, and one of their goals abuts against a wall that belongs to Mr. Kurz’s backyard. When a soccer ball goes over the wall, Mr. Kurz, though polite about it, does not return the ball. Out of complete frustration, the boys hatch a plan to send one of their own over the wall to retrieve the balls.

    Though a predictable plot, Mari’s story does rise above the cliché. This narrative exists in a world of nostalgia, and I wouldn’t say the narrator is unreliable, but he does take some liberties with the truth, and in a very funny speech given by one of the boys, acknowledges this liberty. What this creates is a very charming world that these boys exist in, where their desire to have a fair and regular soccer match becomes the most important concern in their lives.

    I did have two minor issues with the story. First was the delivery of backstory, especially the rules that govern how the boys acquire new soccer balls. Most of this story, information is given directly to the reader from the narrator, but in this one situation, the boys explain the rules to each other. It felt clunky, and didn’t fit with the overall flow of the story. The second, and this is very nit-picky, is that I don’t know a single European male who speaks English that calls “soccer” soccer; it’s football. In Italy, the term is “calcio” which means “kick.” This makes me believe that this was a translation decision. Soccer is an American used term, and in this setting, it left a taste in my mouth that the story was “Americanized.”

    Now, what drew me in with this story was the well-executed climax. One of the boys does go over the wall late at night/early morning only to discover what Mr. Kurz has been doing to the balls, as well as how he spends his time in that yard. I’m trying to not spoil this, so forgive my vagueness, but when this boy receives a new ball from his father, and does what he does with it, all of the threads of this story are tied nicely together. I appreciated that Mari used that final moment to show this boy’s new understanding of the world. How the boy is essentially still the same, but his viewpoint of the world had expanded. That this boy knows he is now part of a moment in time.

  • Short Story Review: “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss

    (The short story “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss appeared in the May 22nd, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I’m gun’na try not to, but beware of SPOILERS!)

    Illustration by Javi Aznarez

    There are no rules to writing. None. Whoever told you that you had write something in a certain way was lying to you. You can write whatever you want, about anything you want… provided you are good at it.

    Such as, you can’t start a story with a huge run-on sentence, and then spend the next couple of paragraphs just describing things with no narrative direction.

    Sure you can. Nicole Krauss did it in her story “Long Island.”

    Maybe it was supposed to be a “memory” story, because it’s not like this was stream of consciousness, but the story had the feeling of a memoir, what life was like out on Long Island in the late 70’s. This is a story of memory, experience, and all stirred up with a healthy bit of reflection and comparison.

    I enjoyed this piece of fictional nostalgia; of a time and a place that will not exist anymore. An upper middle-class family that lived in Sutton Place, who bought and renovated an estate on a hill, and then moved into this suburban world. There is nothing normal or average about this family – they are privileged due to their money, but are presented here as normal, mainstream and as average as anyone else. But when you are a kid, you just assume the way you live is that – normal, and like everyone else. Krauss doesn’t labor this point, but only on reflection of this story, did it dawn on me. This story lulled me, and I enjoyed that aspect.

    I like how the excuse to leave New York City for the suburbs was to escape the crime in the city. Yet, the neighborhood they moved into is filled with criminals. At least the socially acceptable gossipy kind of criminals who commit their crimes behind closed doors, and are dutifully punished. Yet, the narrator understands that this just the crime they know about.

    I was entertained by this story. This wasn’t life changing fiction, but it didn’t waste my time. I like how Krauss compared her disinterested parents parenting with her generations over parenting, and how neither system seems to be creating better children. Yet both generation of parents tried in their own ways to keep the evils of the world at bay. In the end, a form of evil always found its way in.

    Nicole Krauss crafted a story that didn’t follow the hero cycle, or a traditional plot/climax formula. What functioned as the rise in action/climax made sense with the story’s logic, which worked well to give the piece a release of tension that created the felling of resolution. Now, it did have a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” last paragraph, which I don’t want to say too much about as to not spoil the story, but I don’t think it added anything to the ending or point of the story. But that’s my only criticism here.

    In the end, “Long Island” played with form and story, and kept me engaged and on my toes. And it made me think about parents and how they tried their best. And it also reminded me that when you are a good writer, there are no rules if you can tell a good story.

    *  “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a clichéd 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.”

  • Personal Review: Let Me Think by J. Robert Lennon

    I am embarrassed to say that I have no idea how Let Me Think by J Robert Lennon made it on my reading list. And my reading list is actually a wish list on my Amazon account. This was the book that was next up. I knew it was a collection of short stories, but other than that, I knew nothing about the author or any previous works. I was going in blind, but sometimes it’s good to be surprised.

    The collection is made up of flash pieces and short stories, broken up into five sections. There are two reoccurring stories; one about a marriage, and another about a cottage in the woods. The other thing that reoccurs in the collection is the theme of unhappy marriages. And I can’t prove it, but with the book being broken into five parts, I had the weird feeling that each section was to represent one of the five stages of grief. Again, no proof of that, but I couldn’t shake that idea.

    I liked Lennon’s writing right from the beginning of the collection. The first two pieces, “Girls” followed by “Boys” showed that Lennon has a sense of humor, and likes to play with the form of a short story. Witty, this guy’s witty, and the sense of playfulness and fun comes right through. That’s not to say that the none of the stories take on a serious tone, as some do, but experimentation is happening here as well. The “cottage” stories do take on an adult tone, but they also lean into a slight thread of absurdism, or maybe fanciful is the better word to use. Yet, the best example of this tone is the story “Subject Verb” which is told in that very simple sentence structure; just a subject and a verb. It is a format that is brutal in its simplicity, but Lennon makes it an effective tool for storytelling.

    In the end, the collection was enjoyable and entertaining, but what I was left with, and made me the happiest, was that this was a book by a writer who is trying to find new ways to tell a story. The pieces don’t follow the hero cycle, or have a hook in the first line, or even try to tie up the narrative with a button. Now, some of the stories do the afore mentioned things, but the ones that don’t, the stories that try, and poke and prod at what a narrative can be – how short can a story be – how many words are needed to create an emotional pay off? THAT was the excitement of reading this collection – it was different, and it was refreshing without feeling labored to be different.

  • Short Story Review: “Bowling Shoes” by Noel Streatfeild (Alison L. Fraser)

    [The short story “Bowling Shoes” by Noel Streatfeild (Alison L. Fraser) appeared in Rejection Letters on April 17th, 2023.]

    (It’s a flash fiction piece, so I will SPOIL it)

    I do miss going out and drinking on a weeknight. I don’t miss the hangover that followed the next day. Reading “Bowling Shoes” reminded me of this paradox. (Or maybe it is just cause and effect?) Either way, the story taps in on what a night out with friends feels like. There is a tangible energy here, where anything seems possible and likely; a little criminal activity, a little action, violence and sex bubble under the surface, and all could appear at any moment.

    The details and the structure of the piece is what I enjoyed most. From the first line of the narrator telling us, “I padded my stomach with Mom’s lemon and garlic roast chicken,” so we know that this is a person who knows how to drink for an evening – you need a solid protein base to slow the alcohol from absorbing too quickly in the stomach. And as the friends move from bar to bar, their actions build; stealing bowling shoes, kidnapping a friend, dancing with bros, and stumblingly out of a bar. The narrative keeps moving, never settling to long on any one detail or action.

    Where the story does slow down are in two very curious asides from the narrator about teachers from grade and high school. The first is about a teacher taking kids to a bar to learn pool because of geometry, and the second is a high school teacher saying that a screwdriver isn’t a real drink. Both are instances of authority figures doing and saying borderline inappropriate things to their students. The narrator doesn’t share any insights or feelings in the current situation with the friends, only actions are described. So, these two memories are the only true insight we have to the narrator’s mind set. There is no clear answer here why these two thoughts were shared, but that isn’t a detriment to the story. Maybe it is to show how the drunken mind works, or maybe it was to add to the climax of the story?

    What “Bowling Shoes” left me with was the feeling of both a meaningless and profound night out with friends. People being stupid, but also people out living and experiencing their life. It was honest, straightforward, and also messy and incomplete. You know, like a night out drinking with friends.

  • Short Story Review: “Alisa” by Lyudmila Ulitskaya (Translated from the Russian, by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.)

    (The short story “Alisa” by Lyudmila Ulitskaya appeared in the April 3rd, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Yes, I will SPOIL this story.)

    Illustration by Golden Cosmos

    The story “Alisa” by Lyudmila Ulitskaya is translated from the Russian, by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. But I’m pretty sure you knew that from the title of this post. When it comes to translated works, I often wonder how different the piece sounds in its original language. In college, I read three different translations of “The Cherry Orchard” and though the plot stayed the same, the tone of each version was radically different. This was a thought that crossed my mind as I read “Alisa.”

    “Alisa” is a tight little story that I found myself drawn into quickly. The piece focuses on Alisa, a woman who is in nearly perfect health at sixty-four. She lives alone, has no family, and after a brief fainting spell, begins to think that she would rather commit suicide than get to the point where she will need someone to take care of her. She finds a doctor whom she asks for sleeping pills, and she is honest with her intentions. The doctor, Alexander, doesn’t agree right away, but soon they start on a relationship that leads to them getting married. I want to leave it there, though I will spoil the story a little later, I want to leave a few surprises for you.

    What impressed me with this story was that it went in two different directions, and tied up wonderfully together. This was a well-structured, and built story. At first I thought I was getting the tried and true “reason to live” story, such as Alisa wants to die, but then she finds love and wants to live. And she does find love, with those moments of between her and Alexander being very poignant and tender. As their love grows, Alisa never forgets that even with a commitment of marriage, nothing lasts forever. So, when Alexander is killed in a car crash on his way to the hospital to see his daughter and new granddaughter, the surprise is in how he died, but not that he died. Ulitskaya did a very good sleight of hand/misdirection of foreshadowing, laying out the clue, but not in the way you expected. And when Alisa decides to raise Alexander’s granddaughter, as the mother slips into mental illness and cannot take care of the child, there are clear moments that preceded this decision, where it was shone to us why Alisa would come to this conclusion. All of this leading to a satisfying conclusion where Alisa has grown and changed from where we first met her, while also allowing Alisa to retain a quality of her character that still hasn’t changed. Again, I don’t want to ruin the last line of the story, but it’s fits very well with the narrative and tone.

    Which gets me back to my first question about the translation and the original tone of the story. In this case, I didn’t find myself wonder if something was lost. The intention and tone were clear, and worked together in a very effective story. Maybe it was just a “reason to live” story, but I left feeling satisfied that Alisa got to have that time with Alexander, and that she was happy where her life had taken her.  

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