Tag: Short Story

  • Short Story Review: “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert

    (The short story “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert appeared in the October 17th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Millie von Platen

    Sometimes a story comes along, and calls me out on principle. Such as, a story will ask me, “If you were okay with this trick being used in that story, then you have to be okay with this same trick being used in this story, right?” That is what I feel “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert did. I mean, if I was okay with “Wood Sorrel House” not making much sense, then I should be okay with this story not adding up.

    Now, I’m not saying all of this to be derogatory to David Gilbert. I did like his story. I enjoyed the different elements of the family interacting with each other. The quick glimpses of issues family members had, and how they were either dealing with them or hiding them. I picked up easily on the blanket of death and mourning that was all tucked into this story, and not that this diminished the piece, as I felt it added a depth.

    Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this story was an excerpt from a novel, or had once been a part of a novel. There were a great number of characters mentioned, and it felt like even more ran in and out of this story. Everybody had a backstory, and in a few cases, I wanted to know more about them, and not so much about feeding tubes. As the story came closer to the ending, I was expecting a payoff of all these tangents being pulled or tied in together. But that didn’t happen. What occurred was a ceremony, which did connect to the theme of the piece, but wasn’t really explained.

    Hence the feeling I was being called out on principle. I have pointed out and defended many short stories that have contained inconclusive endings with the reasoning being that a short story need only have a rise in action, and not a conclusive climax, like a novel, if theme or character or mood is the driving force of the piece. As such, I find “Come Softly to Me” is that type of short story.

    Yet, I still found myself wanting more from the story. That’s a compliment to the writer and the story, and perhaps that is the reason why I felt like there was a novel connection to the creation of the story. But wanting more can also create a feeling of frustration, though I was enjoying this ride.

    (Hello again! Ya, I see you. Look, if you are here, then I want to say thank you for reading. Not that this is a transactional relationship, but if you could help me out with giving a like, or comment, or sharing the post, or even following the blog, really would be appreciated. Just trying to build a following.)

  • Short Story Review: “Take Half, Leave Half” by Thomas McGuane

    (The short story “Take Half, Leave Half” by Thomas McGuane appeared in the October 10th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Kurt Markus

    (I might SPOIL IT. Just be aware.)

    I like a western. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Texas, or maybe it’s because a good western is like good sci-fi; it is a vehicle of metaphor. In the right hands, these genres can give sharp insights into human nature. We could go down an English lit route, bust out our I.A. Richards and discuss metaphor and symbolism, but I honestly think that would miss the point of “Take Half, Leave Half” by Thomas McGuane; The story is short, compact, and visceral.

    The story is about two childhood friends from Montana who, after graduating high school, work odd jobs every summer all over the west. This summer they landed in Oklahoma on an old ranch run by an even older man. That’s the plot anyway, but the story goes into these two friends’ lives and what has brought them to where they are in life. And it paints the world they live in with the smells of leather, and of horses, and the dust from the arid, hot summer. You can feel this story when you read it, which is an admirable feat by the writer. I was lulled into the world that these two characters lived in.

    And when the climax occurred, I was honestly disappointed that it had happened. Not that the climax was disappointing, but because I don’t get to be in the world of these two characters anymore, which sounds very cliché to say. What I enjoyed reading was about the friendship between these two very different guys, and also what was and wasn’t said between them. (The short is sparse on dialogue and heavy on narration.) Then, when the final paragraph rolls out, I saw it as identifying that this story contain two worlds; one was the world that these two friends occupied, and the other was everybody else looking in. But we, the reader, got to be on the inside, to see who they really were. That was a well-placed button for the story, that I admire McGuane for doing, because he let us be in on the secret.

    (Hey there. Just so you know, it’d be cool if you could help me out. What I’m looking for is to get the algorithm working on my side. You can do that by giving a like, share, or a comment on this blog, and following me would also be a huge help. Thanks for taking the time.)

  • Short Story Review: “Shelter” by Nicole Krauss

    (The short story “Shelter” by Nicole Krauss appeared in the October 3rd, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Photograph by Elinor Carucci for The New Yorker)

    What are the two biggest cliché subjects in literature? Boys at boarding school, and middle aged men dealing with middle age. It once used to be like you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting one of these novels at a bookstore, but it now does feel like things are beginning to change. I mean, I get it. Long ago, the only people who would get published and did the publishing were middle aged men who all went to boarding school, so they produced what related to them.

    When I started reading “Shelter” by Nicole Krauss, and it dawned on me that our main character was a middle-aged man, dealing with being a middle aged man, I did get a little nervous. Was this about to be a story about a dopey, middle aged man that grasps for some meaning and purpose to his life, as per the cliché? The bad news is that the main character is that cliché, but the good news is that Nicole Krauss taps into an emotional base that gives an authenticity to that character.

    The story is that Cohen, our middle-aged man from New York, is in Tel Aviv for a business trip. There is a pregnant woman across the hall in the building where his AirBnB is, and we know that these two characters will become interconnected. For Cohen, who is dealing with his feelings of uselessness in his job and marriage, he has been self-medicating with different drugs, which have led to different levels of effectiveness, but end up costing him his bag which is stolen while on the beach during in a euphoric haze. Waiting back at the building for a new set of keys, the neighbor goes into labor, and Cohen helps out, thus finding a purpose. And then more stuff happens.

    While reading this story, I never had a doubt where it was going, and it did land where I thought it would. But, I found Krauss’ insights into Cohen’s motivations, thoughts, and his feelings while high, resonated with me. Even in a respect, I identified with Cohen a little. The feeling of being useless, and having lived enough of a life to know that you used to be useful, but somehow can’t figure out how to get back there. How being comfortable, which seemed to be the goal, actually is the thing that killed one’s ambition. The story stayed light, even comical, but still had an emotional weight to it. A nice feat of writing, I might add.

    I really like stories like this. It made me rethink that cliché that I had written off as meaningless.

    (Furthermore, if this blog spurred an inkling of enjoyment, even mirth, then if I may request that you reciprocate with a like, share, comment, or by-golly, start following it. That would bring a genuine smile to a face that might be mine.)

  • Personal Review: “Norwegian Wood” by Haruki Murakami

    I first heard of Haruki Murakami somewhere in 1995 or 1996, when I read a translated short story of his in The New Yorker. I’m pretty sure it was “The Zoo Attack,” and I think it was all tied into the article about the upcoming publication of his novel, “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.” The short story made enough of an impression on me that I went to the local bookstore, and found a copy of his short story collection, “The Elephant Vanishes.” I mean I read it almost 25 years ago, but I remember that the collection was great; funny, surreal, and feeling very honest. Murakami does a great job on creating these fantastical stories where the characters reactions to this unreal situations land true and authentic. (Other surreal short story writers could learn a great deal from this man.) He is a great talent, truly a world talent.

    And there was one novel of his that for a long time, you couldn’t get in English; “Norwegian Wood.” Being a huge Beatles fan, the title of the novel always stuck with me, clearly, because it’s one of their more famous songs. Published in 1987, this was the novel that made Haruki Murakami a famous author and household name in Japan. Whenever anything was written about him, “Norwegian Wood” was always mentioned as his best novel. Sadly, being that there wasn’t an English translation until 2000 of the novel, in the late 90’s, it fell off my radar as a novel I had to read. Every now and then, I would see the title show up on reading lists of writers, and friends, and I would think, I need to read that book.

    Then back in April, when I took the kid with me down to The Strand to go book hunting, I found a huge stack of paperback copies of “Norwegian Wood” sitting on a cart that I am sure had yet to be shelved. Looking at the cover, I thought it’s time for me to read it. And when September rolled around, I finally got around to it.

    I liked the novel, but I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be. I had read that this book was a “normal” and “straight-forward” story, and not at all in the surreal vein of his earlier stories, and that was very true. It was a memory story, and used that formula. Toru, the narrator, is on a flight and he hears the song, “Norwegian Wood” as the plane is taxing to the gate in Hamburg, Germany. This song causes him to remember the time in his life where he had just started college, and first fell in love. Thus sets in motion the story, and Toru tells us that though he hasn’t thought of these events in years, the memories come back to him in vivid detail. It was a little caveat trick that Murakami used to give agency as to why the narrator is so detailed in his memories, and also to signal to us that what we are about to hear from the narrator is the truth.

    The setting is 1969 Tokyo, and all the cultural changes that come with it. I liked learning that the upheavals that hit universities in the US and France during this period, also hit Japan as well, but Toru seems to exist just adjacent of all of this turmoil. It is a lonely life this very normal young man lives; living in a dorm, going to class, working a part-time job. Soon he reconnects with the Naoko, who had been the girlfriend of his best friend, Kizuki, in high school. We learn that Kizuki had committed suicide their senior year, and this tragic loss still hangs over both of their lives. Though they come together, they both handle the death in different ways, and with different compounding struggles.

    The novel is more complicated, and there is a theme of loyalty, duty, and commitment as well. But also, the desire to go into the world and experience and discover. I can see why the “coming of age” moniker would get thrown on this story, but I feel that is more used for marketing that an actual description of what the novel is. The characters didn’t feel like they were coming into their own, but discovering how the death of a loved one can change the prism of their world, and viewpoint; some felt guilt, some felt relief, some had a rebirth.

    But as I write all of this, and I just finished reading it yesterday, I have this feeling in the back of my head that I need more time with the novel kicking around in my head. Let it marinate, and see where it takes me. Though it wasn’t as profound as I thought it would be, it hasn’t shaken my opinion of Haruki Murakami’s talent or status as an author.

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  • Short Story Review: “Easter” by Caleb Crain

    (The short story “Easter” by Caleb Crain appeared in the September 26th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Photograph by Ana Cuba for The New Yorker)

    (I SPOIL EVERYTHING!)

    The short story “Easter” by Calen Crain is set in Ft. Worth, TX, so my interest in this story was peaked rather early. Set in the recent past, or at least before cd Walkmen players, this story has no reason to be set in the recent past, or in Ft. Worth, TX. It could take place anywhere, and take place as far back as 1967, if you replace the Walkman with a turntable.

    It’s not a badly written story, as it does contain one really great line in it, which I will point out in a minute, yet this work taps on just enough modern short story clichés that it did make me roll my eyes.

    The protagonist, Jacob, smokes pot, which appears to be the literary go-to action to show that a character is lost. Besides smoking pot, Jacob has a shake in his hand. Jacob is travelling from Houston, where he was visiting a Harvard classmate, to Ft. Worth to spend time with his mother, grandmother, and his retired doctor and elderly grandfather. Once all are together, granddad notices Jacob’s shake and offers to prescribe a drug to help him. After going to a specific pharmacy, and dinner, the family returns to the grandparents’ home, and settles in. Jacob is called to his grandfather’s bed, where the grandfather is unable to speak to him. In the morning, the grandfather has died in his sleep, and Jacob’s mother wants to know why there is a bottle of pills in the grandfather’s room with Jacob’s name on it. Then we jump to a new section where Jacob and his Harvard friend are driving out of Houston to go shoot guns in the country, because doing something new that might kill you is fun.

    Sadly, Jacob is the least interesting person in the story, and it isn’t a “charming” not interesting. Much time is spent on him being high, even showing that he is bad and hiding that fact when he is around people. (I guess pot has become the replacement cliché that drinking used to be in the 50’s.) He is detached from the world around him and just seems to float from person to person, but we are never given a reason why he is this way. (The hand? Maybe.) The grandfather seems very interested in giving Jacob an opportunity to become something more than himself, which is shown in the comment and the prescription for the drug to help with the shake. But, you can’t build sympathy for an apathetic character who has access to great opportunities in life; Jacob goes to Harvard, and it also appears that this is not a family struggling for cash, so Jacob is just lazy and spoiled. (Cliché) And the grandfather is old, and this is a short story, so we all know that he’s going to die. (Cliché.) AND then, this story does that, “last section has nothing to do with the climax, but recalls a recent event in the past that ties the whole story together” thing. (Cliché.) [For the record: This end of story literary trick with the new section that comes out of nowhere and tries to tie the story together, it should have a name to identify it. I propose “Chick in the Wastebasket.” It’s the last line in “Just Before the War with the Eskimos” which I think is the first story I know of that used this trick.]

    It’s too bad because Crain’s writing is good, and the story contained a few phrases and observations that stood out. My favorite was in reference to the grandfather: “…old people are sometimes a little ruthless about their pleasures – about taking from the world they have survived into tokens that remind them of what they loved about the one they grew up in.” That’s good. That’s really good, and I noted it the second I read it. But one line, even a really great one, can’t save the boat here.

    (I have returned to the short story reviews, and I need your help. If you enjoy these takes that I have, please give a like, leave a comment, or share this post. Eustace Tilley would approve.)