Tag: #ShortStory

  • Short Story Review: “Red Pyramid” by Vladimir Sorokin

    (The short story “Red Pyramid” by Vladimir Sorkin, was featured in the October 4th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    I don’t read work by Russian writes much anymore. I over did it in college as a theatre major. I read a ton of Chekhov, and studied Stanislavski’s writing, and just to be safe I read some Dostoevsky as well. And after I graduated, I never went back to it. I just stopped reading Russian writers. Nothing personal.

    And I know nothing about Vladimir Sorkin, other than he is Russian and he is a writer. Up until five minutes ago, I couldn’t tell you if he was still alive or not. (Thanks Wikipedia.) So, I knew nothing about what to expect from his story “Red Pyramid” which was in the October 4th issue of The New Yorker.

    I shall try to summarize this story: in 1960’s Soviet Union, guy gets on the wrong train while trying to get to a party, and has to get off that train and take another train. While waiting at a station in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, an old man appears. The guy and the old man talk. The old man is strange, and mentions a red pyramid in Red Square, but the guy knows there is no pyramid in Red Square. Train arrives, guy gets on, never sees the old man again, nor makes it to the party. Then the story shifts to the life the guy leads after that experience, and I’m not going to give it away.

    I’m leaving out a couple of bits, because when I got to the ending: My Goodness! I didn’t see it coming, but it wasn’t shocking either. It totally fit, and I cannot explain to you how it fits with the story… it just does. I have been thinking about this story for two days now. I don’t know what the red pyramid is, I know what literally is happen at the end of the story, but I don’t know how they fit together – They just do.

    It’s that big paragraph at the end. It’s a feat of wordsmithing, and its translated! This type of writing I am very envious of, to craft words that almost seem nonsensical, but are capturing a moment or feeling correctly to the authenticity of the story. Sorkin was making me say words that at first, I didn’t understand their relevance, but I knew I was being guided to a satisfying conclusion.

    Well done, sir, though I still don’t get what it means. And that’s the fun.

  • Personal Review: “Desire” by Esther Freud

    (The short story “Desire” by Esther Freud, was featured in the September 27th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    A long time ago, when I was in college, I would join writers’ groups, and share short stories, and get and give feedback. I went to three universities and a junior college, and every group behaved pretty much the same. At some point someone would bring in a story that was… well… odd. Not good nor bad, strange but familiar, off kilter but still normal. There was no way to put a finger on what it is, but it was normal. But also, not normal.

    That is what I felt while reading Esther Freud’s “Desire.” The story, set in Ireland, somewhere around 1976, and the Bob Dylan album of the same name plays a part of the story as well. In short, the story is about a family; Mum, older sister and middle sister from one relationship, and a younger brother from a current marriage, who have left this current husband. The narrator of the story is the middle sister, and she refers to the stepfather as someone who needs to be left, but no other information is given. The family moves from the mother’s parent’s home to two additional homes for a stay or holiday or escape, and then return back to England.

    And as I said earlier, something was off with this story. The story kept referring back to songs off the Dylan album, but I wasn’t sure what the connection to the story was. I wasn’t sure what the narrator felt about what was happening. The way this family moved from place to place, by hitchhiking, and lots of waiting, which made the story feel isolated and disconnected, but I couldn’t tell you what that had to do with anything. It was just events happening. The aging parents are upset with the life decisions the Mum has made, and then the family is back off to England, and I don’t know how these disparate things are meant to work thematically. I was left feeling that I had missed something. And I don’t think that was the point.  

  • Personal Review: “The Monkey Who Speaks” by Han Ong

    (The short story “The Monkey Who Speaks” by Han Ong, was featured in the September 13th issue of The New Yorker.)

    Sincere and gentle are difficult qualities, and also odd descriptions to use for a short story, but those were the first two words that popped into my head as soon as I finished reading “The Monkey Who Speaks,” by Han Ong. And as I sat longer thinking about it, this story also made me feel like I followed the protagonist on a journey of growth.

     “The Monkey Who Speaks” is about a home health care worker named Flavia, who is from the Philippines, and her decision to leave her agency to care only for the elder Roscoe. Flavia is actually hired by Roscoe’s daughter Veronica, and through this new arraignment, Flavia begins to earn more money, but also has the time to start going to community college. What we see is how Flavia takes care of Roscoe, his love of movies, and the trust between caregiver, patient, and family. It also covers how we move on in life, how things change, and how little events, comments, actions, linger on in our lives, reminding us of people from our past.

    This was my first time reading a story by Han Ong, and I was impressed by the work. The story never felt predictable, and unfolded in a way that was very honest to the sometimes monotony of caring for an elder individual, while also highlighting those moments of connection between people. I felt Flavia’s concern for Roscoe, while she also tried to keep the relationship professional with him and his daughter. It reminded me of how even I, especially over the pandemic, found myself thinking about clients from my former career. I would wonder how they were doing, if they survived all these changes. And just like Flavia discovered,  I also found myself realizing that all these years later, those interaction are still with me, and still make me glad that I had that time with that person.

  • Personal Review: “Unread Messages” by Sally Rooney

    (The short story “Unread Messages” by Sally Rooney, was featured in the July 12th & 19th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    When it comes to authors, I am the worst type of fan. I have been following Sally Rooney ever since The New York ran a piece on her, right before Rooney’s second novel, Normal People, was published. I watched Normal People on HULU, but I have ever read a word of her fiction. I collect books, but sometimes never read them. Which I guess does beg the question, can you be a fan of a writer yet never read their writing?

    That changed this week, as I read Rooney’s short story, “Unread Messages” in this week’s issue of The New Yorker. I was actually excited when I saw her name in the table of contents, because I can now read this author.

    It is a story about Eileen and Simon, and their lives together and not together. As what I was expecting from Rooney, the characters are in their late twenties and early thirties, moving from early to middle adulthood. The story was in two sections, relatively. The first was a meet up for coffee between Simon and Eileen at lunch, which they flirt, and Simon asks her for advice on how to deal with a friends odd platonic/romantic entanglement. Then the story shifts back in time, giving the background on the characters, and proceeds to move forward. I feel the first section takes place after the end of the story. It’s not high drama, but it is the story of love and wanting to be loved.

    What I took away most was Rooney’s skill at writing. The words and sentences are short, succinct, and to the point. Nothing feels superfluous, or indiscriminate in the construction of the sentences. This is writing that moves ahead, but doesn’t feel rushed, in the sense that, I felt like I was getting exactly what I needed to know. Which is strange that a character, that plays a supporting role to Eileen, is mentioned as having been admitted to a psychiatric hospital, and then is never brought up again. I found this decision odd and puzzled why it was made? To bring Eileen and Simon closer, but even that felt too simple. And that is how I would describe the story; simple. As in the end, the central question of this story is, “Are they, or aren’t they going to get together?”  

    But it was a beautiful, simple story, written by an author that is very confident in her ability to write.

  • Personal Review: “Offside Constantly” by Camille Bordas

    (The short story “Offside Constantly” by Camille Bordas, was featured in the June 28th, 2021 issue of The New Yorker.)

    I have had a soft spot for stories that deal with grief, because I am still dealing with the grief of my mother’s passing. This affection explains why I was such an avid supporter of “WandaVision,” and still list it as one of the best TV shows of 2021, as it was a story about how even the best people can fall victim to, be consumed by, and ultimately, deny that they are in mourning. That once you start down that path, it is very difficult to get out of it. “Offside Constantly” is another story of a protagonist dealing with the effects of grief, and how to deal with those emotions.

    From the start, teenager Johanna is talking about death, or how people die. Her brother has recently passed, and she is dealing with a probable case of narcolepsy, but it cannot be confirmed because her mother won’t allow a spinal tap. We learn about Johanna’s obsession of getting her brother’s obituary listed in a magazine, and her attempts at helping another girl at school deal with her mental issues. Her mother comes across as caring, and her father is distant, but both seems to be handling their grief away from Johanna’s observations. When the climax of the story arrives, Johanna’s actions have changed though she explains that she hasn’t changed her mind.

    What I read was smartly written, but I would also categorize it as a “something-yet-nothing happens” story. Yes, clearly things happen; a plot was set forth, a climax occurred, and there was a resolution, but it felt like nothing happened. I think this was caused by the narration of Johanna, who never seemed too concerned for anything, other than a moment when her parents showed some affection towards each other, which upsets her, as she sees it as they are returning to “normal.” I understand that teenagers can be angsty and attempt to portray themselves as disinterred in everything, but this teenager talked like she was over 30, which left me feeling that the character lack authenticity. Grief can manifest in numerous different ways for each person. There isn’t one way to mourn, and we should allow people the breath of space to discover, or learn, what their new normal life will be as loss now accompanying them. I apricate that “Offside Constantly” took the time to look at the loss of a sibling, but I never could understand why Johanna wanted to share this with me, as I don’t think the story decided if her situation was dire, and needed to be corrected.