Tag: #ShortStories

  • Short Story Review: “The Hollow” by Greg Jackson

    (The shot story, “The Hollow” by Greg Jackson appeared in the November 29th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Okay, no cutesy introduction here, I didn’t get this story, and I’m not sure whose fault it is. Greg Jackson? The New Yorker’s fiction editor? Is it me?

    Here’s the story: Jonah Valente is a college football player who quits the team and wants to become a painter. Jonah is so earnest about his new vocation, it takes on a level of ridicule from other classmates… Like Jack. Though Jack doesn’t think of Jonah often. Fast-forward several years, and Jack is married to Sophie, and they buy a home off in the county away from the city where they had been living. But then Jack loses his job, and Sophie leaves him. Alone in this old farm house, a college friend of Jack’s, Daniel, tells Jack that Jonah lives in the next county over. Jack reaches out to Jonah, and the two begin to hangout. Jonah lives with his mother, coaches a girl’s rugby team at a local high school, is still pursuing painting, and peppers all his conversations with stories about Van Gogh and Picasso. One of the days hanging out Jonah points out to Jack that his home has a hollow space in the middle of the house, which could be a hidden or sealed up room. On another evening, as Jonah tells another story about Picasso, and in a fit of frustration, Jack tells Jonah he will never make it as a painter. Jonah storms off, and then the two lose touch. Later, a letter shows up from Jonah telling Jack that after their fight, he got drunk and fell off a water tower he was trying to paint, and the reason he tells all those stories of Van Gogh and Picasso is because it makes him feel better. Jump some more years, and Jack and Sophie are back together, living in the farm house with a kid now. At a local fair, Jack runs into Jonah sitting at a booth with some awful paintings in it. Jonah claims the paintings aren’t his, and he is helping out a friend by watching his booth. Jack and Jonah share a laugh and never see each other again, and seriously, what the hell is this?

    First, 100% respect for Greg Jackson on getting a story in The New Yorker, because that is a goal of a great number of writers, and the majority, myself included, never attain it.

    But…

    I had so many issues with this story that all seem like very basic questions an editor should have asked. Such as; were Jack and Jonah friends in college? If yes, what was their relationship back then like? If not, then how does Jonah know who Jack is? The story starts off implying that Jonah was a person people at college knew of, but weren’t actually friends with, but when Jack contact Jonah, Jonah’s reaction is as if he knows who Jack is. Well… which one is it? Also, it feels like Jonah is the character that is imparting some sort of wisdom toward Jack, but the tone of the story, and Jack’s attitude, seem to make Jonah the butt of a joke. And if Jonah is not the protagonist of this story, then what is Jack’s heroic act? Then, why does Sophie come back? Did Jack change? Then there is the whole hollow thing. Is the metaphor really just the hidden part of ourselves that no one can access? Really? Following the Chekhov Rule, if it’s in the story, it has to have a purpose, so what was the purpose of the hollow? Being that the story drips a realistic tone, then I don’t believe that there is a modernist/surliest twist going on here. It has to have a meaning.

    As I began to puzzle these questions over and over again, I started to wonder, is the problem with me? Is this story executing some new theory when it comes to what a short story is? What if Jackson presented a story that feigned logic, when it was in fact disassembling what a story’s internal logic could be, thus making the reader question what was really necessary to tell a story.

    No. That’s not what was happening in this story.

    Sadly, it felt like the basic, but essential, work of laying the structure of the story’s internal logic was not fully formed, and thus left the central relationship between Jack and Jonah feeling incomplete, and half-baked. And I don’t think that was the, attempted, point of the story.

    If I’m wrong, then please, someone explain this story to me.

  • Short Story Review: “Detective Dog” by Gish Jen

    (The short story “Detective Dog” by Gish Jen was featured in the November 22nd, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    I don’t like characters in a story who are wealthy. Not that I have anything against a real person being rich, but in fiction, I think it’s a cop-out when an author makes a protagonist’s wealthy. A wealthy character can travel anywhere, do anything, and can be carefree and selfish. Fewer complications means less conflict, and stories need conflict.

    So, when “Detective Dog,” by Gish Jen opens with the line, “No politics, just make money,” and then we find out that Betty, our protagonist, did just that, and made lots of money, my defenses went up. The story is about a Chinese family from Hong Kong, that was living in Vancouver, then moves to New York, and proceeds to buy two more apartments in the building their living in to have more room. Betty is married to Quinten, and they have a seventeen-year-old son Theo, and a nine-year-old adopted son Robert. This family left Vancouver due to racism there, and settle in New York as the pandemic starts. Theo keeps talking about the Hong Kong protests against the Chinese Communist government, and wishes he were there, taking part in the demonstrations. Then we learn that Betty’s uncle is asked by Betty’s sister, Bobby, to smuggle out a letter to Betty, but the uncle destroys the letter, fearing the Communists will discover the letter and jail him. The story takes a turn where Theo wins a large amount of money gambling online, buys a car, and then leaves, not informing his family where he is going. Then Robert gets an extra credit assignment to come up with a mystery, and Betty tells Robert a secret about their family, and I’ll leave it at that; no spoilers.

    There is a lot going on here, which is not a problem, but I feel I’m giving the impression that this is a complicated story. It’s not. It has a very easy flow to it, and the spartan use of details is actually pretty impressive. This is a story that is pared down to the most essential details, and it didn’t feel that a single word or sentence is wasted. But, overall, that story still felt uneven to me. I enjoyed how the story was written, and I couldn’t predict where the plot was taking me, which felt good. And when the end of the story arises, it completely body checked my preconceived notions about telling a story of a wealthy family, and why a person would choose to be wealthy as a goal for their family. What made it uneven to me was Theo’s leaving the family. I get that it was meant to be a parallel in the story structure, but, and this one is big, Betty didn’t seem to be upset about it. Yes, one or two lines was thrown in of Betty or Robert wondering where Theo was, but I found it unrealistic that a mother, in the middle of the Covid Pandemic, would just let her seventeen-year-old son leave, and not try to get him home by calling him, texting his friends, or something. It felt like Theo needed leave so Betty’s final story would have more weight, rather than thinking through what a mother would do if her son ran away. It was a choice that the author made that I had a hard time getting past, which is too bad, as the ending was well worth the read.

  • Short Story Review: “Hello, Goodbye” by Yiyun Li

    (The short story “Hello, Goodbye” by Yiyun Li was featured in the November 15th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Getting old sucks, but having old friends makes it tolerable. Boom! That sums up “Hello, Goodbye” by Yiyun Li. I am being a little turdy right now in my review, as this is a story, I thought I would like, and I don’t think I like it, but as I’m writing this, I think I do like it. I’m very conflicted, and there is a good chance that was the point.

    Li’s story revolves around two old friends who met at Berkley, and live in Silicon Valley/Bay Area. Nina is married to a pediatric dentist with two tween/teenaged daughters. Nina’s best friend Katie is in the process of divorcing her much older and very rich husband. As this story takes places in the time of Covid, Katie moves in with Nina’s family, and reflections ensue. Mainly, teenagers think they know more than their parents, and the parents reflect on how right and yet wrong that is. Also, how some people live for contentment, while other people live for experience. Contentment might be an emotional plateau of stability; experience brings the excitement of the highs and the depression of the lows with everything else being forgotten.

    See! I should like this. It is totally up my alley as these are the conversations, I am having with my friends of twenty plus years.

    But something stuck in my craw with this story. (It could be that the title of this story is the same as a very famous Beatles song.) And I think it might come down to sticking the landing of the piece. The story did have a tinge of melancholy of the past without dipping into misplaced reverent nostalgia. Li created ideas and images that I identified with, and enjoyed. SO, I think my unease is purely academic. I can’t identify the climax, and the resolution feels too easy.

    It’s too bad, as I would like to see what Nina and Katie do next in their friendship and their lives.

  • Short Story Review: “The Umbrella” by Tove Ditlevsen

    (The short story “The Umbrella” by Tove Ditlevsen, translated from the Danish by Michael Favala Goldman, was featured in the October 25th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    When it comes to reading, and then writing my little reviews of, the short stories that are featured in The New Yorker, I do not do any research on the writers until after I publish my blog post. I want to let the story speak for itself, and not invite any outside influence to come into play. (The Sally Rooney story was the one exception, but I’m a fan of hers so that was that kind’a expected…) This way my expectations can be hedged, and I enter the story with an open mind.

    Wow, this story was Scandinavian! It’s like Ibsen’s ghost took a pass at this story. (I wonder if non-Americans think Mark Twain’s influence is present in all American writers?) I don’t necessarily mean that as a bad thing, but within a few words, “The Umbrella” sets a very specific tone, which I think bodes well for Michael Favala Goldman’s ability to translate Tove Ditlevsen’s story. The plot is straight forward, and I am not being condescending when I say this. It is about a young woman, Helga, who marries Egon, and the difficulties that arise in their new marriage, and also Helga’s desire to own a beautiful umbrella. And, as I am sure that you can guess, it’s about more than that.

    Which is why I said it is so Scandinavian! From the Third Person Omniscient narration, to the setting being early winter, to characters staring out windows watching people walk by, even to the conversation between Helga and her mother about a Christmas where Helga cried over her gifts… this story has a tone and mood that is thick and enveloping. But I didn’t find it overpowering, as the story was about the little disappointments in life, and how people try to connect, and also how people try to move on, and what they have latched onto from their past to help them do that. It had a brutal honesty, that wasn’t unpleasant, but was unflinching.

  • Short Story Review: “Not Here You Don’t” by Thomas McGuane

    (The short story “Not Here You Don’t” by Thomas McGuane, was featured in the October 18th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    The American west is a strange place. I keep thinking that the histories, tragedies and pioneer attitudes of the late 19th century have faded away into our collective American past. Like in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” where they contemplated that the “west” was over and the country was becoming modern. But the reality is that those western histories, tragedies and attitudes still affect people to this day.

    I had to read “Not Here You Don’t” by Thomas McGuane twice. Not that I didn’t understand it, but to verify that I hadn’t missed something. The story is compact, but not lacking in detail. The main character, Gary, is traveling to Montana to bury his father’s ashes on the homestead where his father grew up. Gary deals with the new land owner, and the people in the local town.

    This makes the story sound simple, and perhaps it is, but the story is also playing with the western architype hero, and the changing west. Gary is duty bound to follow his father’s wishes. Gary also displays an honesty of his father’s legacy; he was a good man, though not perfect. Gray knows his family history with the land, and also displays a knowledge that the new landowner lacks, showing that owning it does not make you master of your land. Gary has regrets over a failed love, and he also has feeling of being out of step when he returns home in the East.

    I found myself contemplating that even if we do roam and live far from home, how much of home stays with you? Are we instilled with attitudes from regions of this country that we never truly shake off? Do we identify with places that we really have the thinnest of connections to?

    Hence why I read it again.  Just making sure I got it.