Tag: Short Story

  • Short Story Review: “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle

    (The short story “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle appeared in the November 7th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Spoilers, I guess)

    (Photograph by Jacob Mitchell for The New Yorker)

    Well… Stories like “Princess” by T. Coraghessan Boyle make me feel like an asshole. I’m going to have criticisms about this story that will seem to total up to a negative review. But I don’t dislike this story, I think people should read it, Coraghessan is a talented writer, yet there are issues that I can’t ignore nor rationalize out.

    So, this story is about a young woman drug addict who wanders into an unlocked house and falls asleep in a teenage girl’s room. The single mother, whose house it is, calls the cops and the young woman is arrested. Early the next morning, when the young woman is released by the cops, she wanders into the woods of a nearby park, and discovers the body of a little girl, but the addict doesn’t call the cops for fear that she’s be accused of the murder. The single mother has issues with her teenaged daughter, and after some time passes, the addict wanders back into the house. The End.

    The structure of this story alternates between the addict and then the single mother. It’s close to linear, but some sections do jump ahead in time over the other. It’s an effective form to keep the story moving, but it wasn’t conducive in helping create a sense of climax, conclusion or even catharsis. The addict just keeps being an addict, but now she’s an addict with more guilt for not having come forward about the murdered child. The single mother keeps having a rocky relationship with her teenaged daughter. I would think that by using this structure, we’d come to some point where these two lives interact and bring about some resolution, but that never arrives. Yes, the addict returns back to the home at the end, but the way it’s laid out, it is presented as more of a coincidence, rather than the addict making a choice to look for that home. Also, the dead child seems to be poised to have some influence on the characters, but that also doesn’t amount to anything. Though the addict feels guilty, the guilt doesn’t change her behavior. And even when the single mother recognizes the murdered girl, that also bring about no change. All of these tangents are presented, but none of them add up to anything. And the story doesn’t feel like it’s trying to make a point about how dark and unchanging the world is.

    Now, I did say that I liked this story, and I thought people should read it, and that is still true. I did like the structure and the alternating between the characters. The writing is good, quick, and not overindulgent, which makes the story pull you in. And I was engaged with this story as I was reading it, but as I pointed out above, it stumbled, in my estimation. I guess what the story feels like is the first chapter of a novel, or a first draft of this idea. It either needs to be worked on some more, or it has a bigger story to tell.

    It just needs to choose one and go with it.

    (Why, hello there! I am glad you made it this far, and I would like to ask you to do one more thing for me. Please, take a moment to like this blog. In fact, feel free to comment, share or even follow it as well. The more interaction I get, the more that hole in my soul closes up!)

  • Short Story Review: “Narrowing Valley” by Jonathan Lethem

    (The short story “Narrowing Valley” by Jonathan Lethem appeared in the October 31st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I couldn’t Spoil this one if I tried.)

    Illustration by John Gall

    The short story is an art form that I love immensely. Basically, everyone tells short stories; “Funny thing happened to me at the grocery store…” “Let me tell you about this guy at work…” “So, I was out late last night…” Some people might be better at telling a story, history professors seem to be great at it, but we all tell “Beginning, Middle, End” stories to our friends and family all the time. As such, we know when a story works, if it’s entertaining or not. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, but it’s also not easy telling a good short story. There isn’t a lot of time to set up characters, situations, conflict, and a climax that has meaning. Not to mention setting tone and theme. This is why I have bottomless respect and admiration for writers that can create, craft and tell a great short story.

    But I also have bad boy fascination with those writers who take all the rules of short story writing, and throw them out the window and try to create something brand new. These experimental writers are like the kids that sit at the back of the classroom, or they’re the people who wear sunglasses to their writers group. I think of Jonathan Lethem that way after having read his story “Narrowing Valley.”

    It is a story told in seven sections, and from the section titles, it has the feel of a concept album, especially with the “reprise” at the end. The story is told in the 3rd person, and takes the angle of telling us about the story the writer wants to tell. The story that wants to be told, is actually based on another story told by a different writer, which lends to creating a feeling that this story is like a “cover song.” (Hence, why I use the album reference before.) What the story ends up settling on, is how to describe a character, and the personal history this character has to the writer.

    This is an experimental type of short story, and I would be hard pressed to identify if or where there was a climax. But Lethem does identify that the ending really isn’t an ending, and that the story might not have even started. And what were the characters hoping to accomplish? I’m not sure. Yet, the story did go someplace. It did take a journey, and maybe the only person who “learned” anything was the writer. I didn’t feel like my time was being wasted, or that this experimentation was to see how long a reader would put up with this form.

    I can admit that I would understand why some other person would read this, and not like the story. My opinion might be based more on personal bias, rather than a more logical critical interpretation, but I do like experimentation for the sake of experimenting. It’s the only way the art form evolves and moves forward.

    (Did you know that you have the power to keep blogs like this one alive, and thriving? Yes, you have that power! By taking a second of your time to like, share, comment, or follow this blog, you will be exercising your power, and showing the algorithm who’s truly in control!)

  • Short Story Review: “Tiny, Meaningless Things” by Marisa Silver

    (The short story “Tiny, Meaningless Things” by Marisa Silver appeared in the October 24th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Eliza Bourner for The New Yorker

    I think Paul Thomas Anderson said that when he starts to write about a character, he tries to imagine that character doing simple mundane tasks, as those actions truly reveal how that character honestly perceives the world they live in. (I think I got that right, but I won’t go and look it up because it was a Charlie Rose interview way back in the late 90’s.) As you can guess, Marisa Silver’s short story “Tiny, Meaningless Things” is not about tiny, meaningless things.

    Let me just cut to the chase here; I loved it, and you should go and read it. And let me tell you why…

    First of all, this is the type of story that I wish I could write. Silver finds drama in the simple acts of life – the melancholy beauty of everyday events, that when one steps back from them, we can see the profoundness. Or at least we hope they are profound when we look back on them.

    The story is about Evelyn, who is a widower and a divorcee, and lives alone in an apartment building. She has a nearly daily visitor of a seven-year-old boy named Scotty, who arrives and helps with Evelyn’s chores, though they rarely converse with each other. Scotty’s reward for helping is a piece of cinnamon toast, which he prepares for himself. Evelyn has grown daughters and grand children, who are present in the story, but stay on the periphery, except for her youngest daughter, Paula. Their relationship is strained, but they clearly still care and love each other.

    All of these pieces come into play, as we all know they would, and the end result is an interesting picture of who Evelyn is, and what she chooses to be involved in, and who she chooses to be honest with. It’s a great insight, as I asked myself why I am willing to confront some people in my life, and why for others I avoid any confrontation at all? Does the level of confrontation equal who I care more about?

    I was left very impressed with the degree of skill and honesty that Marisa Silver was able to pack in this story. (In the end, I felt rather ashamed that I didn’t know more about her, or her work.) And the completeness of the story, in a structural/theory sense, landed so succinctly with a question about the actions that happen to a person, and would those memories linger and still influence them later in life, even when that person isn’t sure where that memory came from?

    Just top-notch story telling.

    (So, friend; if you have made it here, might I impress on you a slight request? For my success, I am in need of certain acts of approval from you. Such as give a like, a comment, a share, or even following this blog. Your actions would do a great deal to move the needle of acceptance in my favor. I thank you for your time.)

  • Personal Review: One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories by B.J. Novak

    I had received One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories by B.J. Novak as a Christmas present back when it came out a couple of years ago. Friends had recommended it to me, saying that this is a really funny book that I’d love. So, I have kept it close to me on my night stand over the years. It even moved cross country with me, but I never got past the reading the first few stories. Not because they were bad, or that they weren’t funny. Just, something would come up, I’d put the book down, and then time would pass before I would pick it up and try again.

    I made a promise to myself that this year I would get back to reading as much as I can, and I am up to about a book a month now. (Last year I read two books, and this year I should complete twelve. That number might not be something to brag about, but it is a vast improvement from the year before.) I am also trying to clean out my huge back log of books that I bought or received and never read. Hence how One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories got back in the rotation.

    I read through it pretty fast, and I appreciated that many of the 64 stories were short; two or three pages. The writing was impressively efficient, both in storytelling and humor. There weren’t crap sentences filling the space, everything felt like it was there for a reason. It made me feel that Novak was very seriously not trying to waste my time while making me laugh. That’s not to say that he didn’t have longer stories, or jokes that had huge set ups, but in both cases, they landed.

    There was one minor issue that had had with this book. It was the final story, “J.C. Audetat, Translator of Don Quixote.” There is nothing wrong with the story, so to speak. It’s a longer piece, that isn’t knee slapping hilarious, but it is very witty and which makes a fine point. The issue I have is its placement in the collect, as the last story. (I am aware that “Discussion Questions” is the last piece, but that is more of a running gag, and not a complete story.) For a book that had so many, for lack of a better word, laugh out loud funny stories, I found the choice to end with an “internal acknowledgement of wit” type of story rather than choosing a story that would garner an external involuntary laugh, odd. Maybe the choice was made because “Translator” was the longest story in the collection, and that seems to be the unwritten rule of short story books; you end with the longest one.

    It’s a minor complaint, and I enjoyed the running gags between stories, and the sense that I was being included in a very funny ride.

    With someone as talented as Novak is at writing stories, I wonder is why he hasn’t written more books? I know he did the “Book with No Pictures” as we have that one in our house, and my daughter loves it. And not too long ago he wrote and directed the movie Vengeance, So I guess he’s been busy. It would be nice to see another collection is all.

    (Okay, we all know how this works. I am in need of “likes” and “shares” and “comments” and followers. If you enjoyed what you have read here, then if you could, please, do one of those four things. I appreciate it. Thanks.)

  • Forgetting Things

    I’m here on Sunday night trying to create a blog that I will publish on Monday morning. Normally, I write something and publish it same day, but tomorrow I’m very busy and I still want to write five blogs this week, so I am trying to get a jump. The funny thing was that earlier in the day I had an idea that I wanted to write about, but being that I was in the middle of making lunch for the family, I thought I would take care of it a little later.

    And you can guess it; I forgot the idea. Sadly, I even have a category in my Notes app on my phone for blog ideas, and I was so sure that I would remember it and I didn’t need to write it down.

    It’s moments like this that I start to wonder if my minor forgetfulness is normal, or is it a sign that I’m getting older?

    I’m only forty-five; I’m not that old. But I’m also not young anymore either.

    I say all of this because I know I am at the age that I have to start have sections of my body, organs, and appendages examined, in some cases, annually, to make sure that I am healthy. I have had my heart checked, and my lungs. I know I need to get my colon looked at, well as my eyes, and I am due to see the dentist, so it’s like I’m getting looked at from both ends.

    But also, I have strange aches and pains. If my left arm of shoulder has the slightest pain, then clearly I’m having a heart attack. I’m having trouble seeing small print, which must mean that I am going blind. Sure, the easy thing to say is that I’m a neurotic hypochondriac, but I like to think that I’m just being very observant of my body.

    I am sure that there is a balance out there that some people achieve, where they age gracefully and enjoy the next phase in life, but…

    It was B.J. Novak’s book of short stories! I finished reading it this weekend and I wanted to write about it.

    I’ll write it down and do it tomorrow.

    (Umm… the thing with “like the blog” and stuff. It would be cool if you did that. Thanks.)