Tag: Short Story Writer

  • Short Story Review: “The Boy Upstairs” by Joshua Ferris

    (The short story “The Boy Upstairs” by Joshua Ferris appeared in the June 6th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Just a slight hint of SPOILERS this time around.)

    I think it was Robert Altman who said that all stories have a philosophical viewpoint, which can be as simple as supporting or challenging the status quo. I was almost a philosophy major, I read the important books by important thinkers, and would say that I was more in the classical mode of thinking, and not so much with the Modern thought. I was always saddened when people viewed philosophy as a waste of time, something that had no relevance in the world. So, anytime I come across a writer who infuses a philosophical question into the plot of a story, it makes me excited that there are people still asking those questions.

    Joshua Ferris did that with the short story “The Boy Upstairs.” It’s a little philosophy and a little Book of Job all rolled into one. The protagonist is only referred to as “she” and what we learn about she is that she is an adjunct philosophy professor who is married but has no children. It is hinted that she is a person who is not all good. A friend, who is researching in Antarctica, first texts her that they need to speak. Her first thought is that her secrets are about to be revealed. When her friend does call, it is to tell her that he thinks their mutual friend’s son has committed suicide at twelve years old. Her first reaction is relief that the call was not about her secrets, but then she begins to feel guilty for feeling that way. Then she has a thought that she would be willing to be humiliated if that meant her friend could have her son back. Thus, starts a chain of events that leads to a climax that consists of a question.

    As stated before, I’m a sucker for any story that touches on a question that is even slightly in the realm of philosophy, and I would chalk this story up to that. A question is asked, events happen, and then ending is left for the reader to interpret based on how they answered the first question and viewed the events. I find this stuff fun, and I do like the way Ferris structured the story. Yet, I still couldn’t shake this feeling of being dissatisfied. I have been thinking about it for two days, and I’m still not sure what it is that is causing this feeling in me. I guess I could say the structure of the story was a bit academic and predictable, but at the same time, to ask these questions, the story gets locked into this structure. I could also say it’s the open-ended climax, but as I stated earlier, I feel the ending needed to allow each reader to bring their perspective to the story. Or, it could be that the story was written to ask a question that was to leave me feeling dissatisfied no matter what answer I came up with. All of that can be true and wrong at the same time.

    See, I’m a sucker for philosophy.  

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Short Story Review: “Invisible Bird” by Claire-Louise Bennett

    (The short story “Invisible Bird” by Claire-Louise Bennett appeared in the May 30th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Odds are there are SPOILERS!)

    Well… I’m not sure what to make of “Invisible Bird” by Claire-Louise Bennett. I have had this happen to me several times of late, when reading a short story from a magazine; I finish reading it, I don’t dislike it, but my gut tells me that I am missing something. Like, if I wouldn’t have missed that one day in my senior English class, then I would totally understand this story. Or, being that I didn’t get an MFA in creative writing, that’s why this story doesn’t work for me. That might be true, but I hope it isn’t. In these reviews, I try to read each story as is, and don’t read up on the author, or research anything the author has to said about the story. This way I enter the story with a clean slate, tabula rasa so to speak, and go with what my gut tells me.

    My gut tells me I’m missing something.

    The story is about a girl who recently finishes her degree in London, but being that she is behind on her rent, is politely booted from her flat, and is forced to move back home. Then, her and her boyfriend, after he sells his car, go to Dublin, only to find themselves homeless and scrounging to survive. They live on the streets for a time, make some unsavory friends, beg, work jobs that steal from them, but still earn enough money to rent an apartment. They build a home in the apartment, and the girl starts to write, the boy moves back to England, while she stays in Dublin. The End…

    The story is pretty straight forward, like the description I gave, and I was entertained by it. But what I didn’t get was how to feel toward the girl. Essentially, her and her boyfriend are, for lack of a better term, are “slumming it.” They are tourists. They are college educated young people, who choose to be homeless. The girls describes their experiences in a light, almost, fun way. I kept rereading to see if there was a hint of irony, or sarcasm, or even satire, but I couldn’t find it. The story felt like it was presenting the girl, and all of these events as straight. And if that is true, then why did this girl want to be homeless? (I have worked in a shelter, and being homeless is scary and tough as shit. I have never met anyone who wanted that life.)  So, what am I not getting here?

    It felt too easy for the girl, and too succinct. It made me wonder if this was an excerpt from a novel, or a much longer story that was pared down. It’s not bad. Just, it felt like something was off.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Short Story Review: “Occupational Hazards” by Jamil Jan Kochai

    (The short story “Occupational Hazards” by Jamil Jan Kochai appeared in the May 23rd, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Yes, there are SPOILERS, so just go read the story!)

    I liked this story, and I liked this story a lot. And let me tell you why.

    “Occupational Hazards” by Jamil Jan Kochai tells the story of a man’s life, starting at Logar Province Afghanistan in 1966, and ending in the present day in West Sacramento, California. The story takes the form of job descriptions for different periods of this man’s life; from being a Sheepherder, to Grade-School Student, to Mujahid Recruit, to Refugee, to Lawn Technician, and so on. It was a form that, at first, I felt was a little gimmicky, almost like it was making lite of the subject.

    But as the story progressed, and as the boy became a high school student, his “job” is to be loyal to the constantly changing national leadership, then to the Communists, and to hear about purges and coups, and the disappearances of leaders, thinkers, and imams. A dread begins to fill the story, and even with a very basic American knowledge of Afghanistan’s recent history, we know that the Soviets are coming, and years of civil war and strife. I mistakenly thought that the cold dryness of the job descriptions would take away from the drama. Jamil Jan Kochai is in control of this story, and the effect of the descriptions, keeping them detached from emotions, only heightens the horror and tragedy that this man experiences. The fact that so much befalls him, but he keeps fighting, pushing forward, and seemingly holds all of this in. We know what this man does, but we don’t know how he feels about it. What does it feel like to lose loved on after loved one, to fight for your survival, to be uprooted and move half the world away, and try to start over in a new country and culture? But then the final job description comes, and there is such a cathartic release for this man as his new job is as a witness; describing to his oldest son, who has asked him questions, about Logar, and Afghanistan, and the brother who had been murdered at the hands of the Communists. That all that this man had done to survive, and build a life, to ensure that his children were all educated, and had opportunities, and still, he never forgot about his younger brother that he couldn’t save. Just heartbreaking.

    I also loved how this story rejected the sentimentality and cliché of this immigrant story. I think a lesser writer would have played on our emotions, and thus created a very predictable story. What Jamil Jan Kochai gives us is a very full-throated argument why immigrants are a necessary and vital part of this nation, but it is never preachy, or romanticizes this man’s experience. It also reminded me that for some people, getting to the United States is monumentally difficult, and it does deserve respect from the rest of us.

    This is the type of story where I wish I could shake Jamil Jan Kochai’s hand, and say thank you for sharing this.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Short Story Review: “The Face in the Mirror” by Mohsin Hamid

    (The short story “The Face in the Mirror” by Mohsin Hamid appeared in the May 16th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (This story will be Spoiled!)

    I didn’t know I had been waiting for a story, but “The Face in the Mirror” by Mohsin Hamid was the story I had been waiting for. I thought I knew what I was getting, then I was surprised, then I felt ashamed that I had judged it, only to again think I knew where this story was going, only to arrive at an ending that was conclusive, but also left me pleasantly wondering what all of this meant. I love that feeling. It reminds me of being in a college English class, and we have just finished reading a story that we are all jazzed up about, and we can’t wait to discuss it, to see if someone else saw it the same way that I did.

    The story is about a white man, Anders, who wakes up one day to find that his skin color has changed to brown. Right off the bat, I thought I was about to get a modern retelling of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis.” Anders soon learns that this change is affecting other people in his city. Slowly, tensions start growing in this city. Anders goes to see his father, who has not changed and is still white. We learn that the father and Anders have a strained relationship, neither really coming to understand the other. Where the father was a construction foreman, a physically tough man, Anders never lived up to that standard. Though the father doesn’t understand or recognize his son, the father still loves and attempts to protect his child, by giving Anders a rifle to protect himself. Soon, society begins to break apart; militias form, people who have changed are now evicted, violence is everywhere. Anders has a confrontation at his apartment, an attempt to evict him, and though he stands his ground, he knows he has to leave. The only safe place is his father’s home, where he goes, and the two of them hole up together. Soon, it is clear that the father is dying, and Anders sees to it that he takes care of his father to the end. And at the funeral, the father is the only white person left, as all of the people attending are now brown skinned.

    First of all, much respect to Hamid for writing a story that was not easy to predict where it was going. Always a good sign. Second, there is so much to unpack. Was this a story about race? Clearly it was. Was this a story about how the paternal generation comes to not recognize and understand their children’s generation? Yes, that is also true. I think it was also about loving unconditionally. It was all of that, and it was great. I also like that after Anders goes through this change, society comes out on the other side, and everything starts to return back to normal. There was a menace in this story, a tension that I felt was going to explode, but the fact that it didn’t played well into the theme of the story. There were all of these things happening, which was bringing up questions in my mind, asking if this is how society would react to a change like that, or is our current society reacting this way because a great change is under way?

    I don’t know, but it is fun and challenging to ask and ponder these questions.

    But all of it was pulled together and held tightly by Hamid’s writing. His word choice, the flow of the sentences, and the use of repetition of a phrase in a sentence; it was enjoyable just to read this prose. I am now a fan of Mohsin Hamid. I feel like he was a friend, gently nudging me to ask questions, and look a little closer at the world around me.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • Read the Guidelines!

    I don’t think it’s a secret that I am trying to get one of my stories published in a lit magazine. I don’t know if this is the right way to start a career writing fiction, or if there is a better way to go about it, or if there is no right way and you just got to figure it out. (I think it’s the last option.) Either way, I write and then I send the stories out to magazines, then wait to see what sticks to the wall.

    Almost every magazine says two things; please read an issue of their magazine before you submit, and please follow the submission guidelines. I have started reading some of these magazines, and I have enjoyed discovering new writers and new ideas on how to tell a story. As for following the guidelines… yeah, I still suck at that.

    In fact, I was rejected yesterday for that exact reason, even though the form letter that was sent to me never mentioned that I had failed to follow their guidelines. I thought that it was very polite of them not to mention my complete inability to follow the most basic rule they set forth. I know I was rejected for not following the guidelines because the magazine stated that it could take three months for them to respond, and they rejected me in three days. I went back to read the submission post, and that’s when I reread the rules, and realized that I didn’t follow them. Oops…

    And I know what happened. I found this magazine, and got impatient, and wanted to send out right away as it was on my mind right now!

    I feel a little silly. I should have known better. I should have slowed down, taken my time.

    Remember people, read the guidelines.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)