Tag: Short Story

  • A Polite Rejection Letter to Kilgore Trout

    At the start of this year, I decided that I would actively work towards getting one of my short stories published in a lit magazine. To accomplish this task, I came up with a schedule that I would follow during the week, you know, while the kid was in school. In this schedule, I had time set aside to write, re-write, outline, and do research for stories I was working on. Also, I made time to do research on publications that I wanted to submit to, and submitted as well. It was a good system, as I did get a solid amount of work done in a very short time, which left me feeling productive. Now, for Summer, I stopped following the schedule because the kid was home, and vacations, and other home projects. After Labor Day, when the kid returns to school, I’ll get back to my work flow.

    I bring this up because, even though I haven’t actively worked on anything for two months, I’m getting responses from all the magazines I submitted to at the start of the year. I have yet to be accepted by anyone, no shock there. When I get the rejection email, it’s a form letter, which is to be expected, and I take no offense to it. During my time working for a publisher, and it was a very tiny publisher, we were inundated with submissions, and it was hard to stay on top of it. You needed form letters. So, it goes…

    Yet, the one I got yesterday has caused me to wonder me, slightly. It was the type of rejection letter that thanked me for submitted, but unfortunately they couldn’t find a place for my story in the magazine, and wished me luck in the future. All pretty standard stuff, and I don’t believe insincerely meant. Then the letter took a turn. They told me I was welcomed to submit again, that they accepted simultaneous submissions as well, and added a list of websites that contained lists of other publications to submit to. I took this to mean that they were trying to be encouraging – that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other publications out there. I thought it was a nice touch. I spent twenty years doing theatre, an industry that is built on persevering rejection, so getting told no is nothing new.

    What I started thinking about this morning was the lists, of lists, of lists of publications out there. In essence, these publications wouldn’t exist unless there was a bottomless collection pond of unpublished stories to draw from. I know of no publication or publisher that has a lack of material submitted to them; lack of talent might be a different story. There are probably millions of unpublished writers in America. People we may never read, or ever know of. Billions of words and ideas that never get beyond a small circle of friends and family.

    At moments like this, I start to wonder if there aren’t just millions of Kilgore Trouts running around. I mean, minus publishing stories in porn mags, but I think you get the idea. Maybe there should be a Kilgore Trout Society for unpublished writers. Their symbol could the asterisk.

    (You know, if you liked it, please take a second to “like” it, or comment or share. There is a version of me that really needs the validation.)

  • Short Story Review: “Mitzvah” by Etgar Keret

    (The short story “Mitzvah” by Etgar Keret appeared in the June 27th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Jason Fulford and Tamara Shopsin

    (Heads up! SPOILERS!)

    Well… “Mitzvah” was a very short story. I know that Etgar Keret is famous for his very short short stories, and this is one of them, alright. I understand his popularity. His writing is sharp, even crisp, and direct. He doesn’t fart around and gets right to the point. Sadly, I found the point predictable and the characters flat.

    We meet three characters right off the bat, who all feel like they came from the works of Irvine Welsh; the guy who had a good drug experience, the guy who wants to try and have a drug experience, and the gross guy who sells them the drugs, but who doesn’t like to think of himself as a drug dealer but is a drug dealer. Good drug guy once got high and picked up a woman tourist at the beach, and has convinced new drug guy that if he gets high he can do the same. They take their drugs and head to the beach, but along the way they are stopped by an older man in front of a synagogue. The older man is looking for one more person to have ten men for the minyan. Good drug guy says no and leaves, while new drug guy agrees to take part. The drugs kick in, and new drug guys leaves the synagogue after completing the minyan, heads to the beach, tries to pick up a girl, but her boyfriend beats him unconscious. When new drug guy comes to, the girl is sitting next to him on the beach waiting for the ambulance to arrive. New drug guy thinks that God has blessed him with the girl for completing the minyan.

    The mechanics of a well-made short story are all there. It hits all the notes that are needed to get to its climax and resolution. Yet, it still felt incomplete. I sort of want to say that the story was looking for an “O. Henry” styled twist ending, but it’s not that, but it’s not irony either. I go back to the Welsh comparison, as the story is about drugs, sex, violence, as if there is an overarching morality to it all. I just don’t know, which leads me to conclude that its intention is not clear, which left me feeling that it didn’t work.

    (You know the drill. If you enjoyed what you read, please take a moment to like, share, and/or comment.)

  • Short Story Review: “HOUYHNHNM” by André Alexis

    (The short story “HOUYHNHNM” by André Alexis, appeared in the June 20th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Vanessa Winship

    (I’ll probably SPOIL it)

    Did you ever have a simple turkey sandwich but for whatever reason, was just amazing? Like, it’s made up of all the same simple ingredients that you have in your house, but somehow the person in the kitchen put it together in a way that somehow was spot on. Man, it’s just a turkey sandwich, but it’s great turkey sandwich.

    I mean no disrespect, but that is exactly what “HOUYHNHNM” by André Alexis was to me. The title of the story is taken from the name of a race of fictional intelligent horses from Gulliver’s Travels. The story is told by the adult son of a well to do but modest doctor who is all scientific logic, and buys a horse. This isn’t his first horse he’s owned, but soon a special bond is formed between the doctor and the horse, to the point where the doctor spends all of his free time with the horse; walking, reading to him, talking to him. It even gets to the point to where the doctor builds the horse a special barn to live in. Suddenly, the doctor passes, and the son takes on the responsibility of caring for the horse, only to find that the horse can speak. The son realizes why his father spent so much time with the animal, and also the son begins to do the same things that his father did when he was attending the horse.

    I used the metaphor of the simple ingredients here because nothing in this story took me by surprise. I knew where it was going, I saw all the pieces, I knew was Alexis was going to build. I knew that with the son now spending time with the horse, he was gaining a deeper understand of who his father was. And when the horse’s decline set in, I also knew that the story was alluding to having a parent who is succumbing to dementia, and the pain that can cause when the loved one soon no longer recognizes you. Even with that said, it was an effective story – honest and authentic. Not a word seemed false or forced. The title of the piece was clearly there to say to the reader that this horse was real, and not a figment of the narrator’s imagination, though, that was the only aspect of the story that I kept expecting to surface, but it never did. And I apricated that dedication to the premise – this is a talking horse story.

    Maybe it’s me. This is a story about losing a parent, and that subject still holds a soft spot in me. But I do think that there is more to this story. Though I did know where this story was going, I experienced a special catharsis in the son gaining a better understanding of his father. That might be a very basic desire of all children after their parents die, and though it might be basic, it is still a wish I hope comes true.

    (Say! If you like what you have read, please like, share, and leave a comment. It would help justify my existence.)

  • Short Story Review: “Trash” by Souvankham Thammavongsas

    (The short story “Trash” by Souvankham Thammavongsa appeared in the June 13th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (Things might get SPOILED)

    Self-perception, self-worth, first impressions, the desire for acceptance; these were all the themes that swirled around and in the very compact and effective short story “Trash” by Souvankham Thammavongsa. The story is about a young female cashier at a local grocery store who falls in love and marries a man in five days after meeting him at the store, and then the man’s mother comes to visit. Mother-in-laws can be tough, and let’s be honest, the mean mother-in-law is a cliché. Hell, even the illustration for the story leads you to that conclusion as well, and as I read the story, I didn’t have high hopes for what I was going to unfold.

    Yet, what followed was a very well-crafted comparison for two self-made women, their attitudes toward the world they occupied, and how they desired the same thing, but attacked it in two very different ways.

    The young woman, the cashier, is from a world of rude honesty. “If they didn’t like you, you’d know about it and they would say it to your face,” the cashier informs us early in the story, “There is no pretending.” The cashier’s parents died when she was in her last year of high school, and she had to drop out to support herself, as there was no one to help her. She took the job at the grocery store, and she came to enjoy the job, and apricate the employment as it gave her an opportunity to provide for herself – an apartment and furnishing that were all hers.

    The mother-in-law, Miss Emily, had gone to college, graduated law school, became a partner, owned her own practice, bought property, worked hard to make something out of herself, as the young woman tells us. Miss Emily’s husband had died several years ago, a sudden heat attack, and she had married him right out of college, as we are told, because having a family was what she really wanted.

    When the women meet for the first time, they go to dinner and Miss Emily tells stories of her son, and when they all are on their way back to the son’s apartment, Emily askes about the young woman’s family, where in the story of her parents death is told, as well as how proud she is for having supported herself. Miss Emily’s reaction is to ask if she would quit the supermarket job now that she was married to her son. Miss Emily wants her to quit the job and go back to school, to make something better of herself. The next day, Miss Emily takes her shopping, so she can have clothes that look like a wife of a man who works in an office. But when they return to the son’s apartment, Miss Emily changes and starts to complain to her about the cleanliness of her son’s place, and that she, as his wife, needs to do something about it. The young woman takes a break, and goes outside of the apartment, and wonders about a mother’s love, and how she wants that as well.

    And it was this ending of the story that broke my heart a little. I could feel through the words how much the young woman wanted to belong, to be a part of this family, and believing that her mother-in-law was doing all of this out of love, and that she wanted to be recognized as a productive member. But I also felt that for the young woman to get all of that, on some level, she would be forced to admit that where she came from, and what she had made herself into, just wasn’t good enough. Heartbreaking for me, because clearly the young woman was just as much as a “bootstrap” self-made woman as Miss Emily, but her achievements were viewed as less worthy.

    It’s the type of story where I want to tell the young woman that she is good enough, and she does have value. But, I also have the feeling that her desire to be loved and validated will lead her to reject all that she has earned on her own. It’s a harsh reality, but also very honest.

    (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 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.)