Tag: #The New Yorker

  • Short Story Review: “Intimacy” by Ayşegül Savaş.

    (The short story “Intimacy” by Ayşegül Savaş appeared in the October 20th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Elinor Carucci

    “Intimacy” by Ayşegül Savaş has been sitting with me for a couple of days now. I’ve read it three times, and I am still mulling over the construction of it, the theme, the use of language, and the lack of it as well. I keep thinking that there is a simplicity to this story, but that is just an illusion to its complexity. I want to believe that I would never behave like the protagonist, but honestly, I completely behave like the protagonist. Savaş uses the normal short story tricks; foreshadowing in the first paragraph, use of the rule of three, and uses the death of a character as the climax. But Savaş uses these tricks, and a few others, is such ingenious ways, that this story feels fresh, and left me wondering, and I mean this in an intriguing positive way, what is going to happen next?

    To describe the plot I feel is rather a meaningless exercise as it won’t get to the heart of what makes this a compelling story. Here goes anyway: In an unnamed city, there is a group of expats from an unnamed country. The groups tries to support each other in adjusting to life in this new city, and to that end our narrator, who is a published writer, is connected with an older and very successful writer from the same expat group. They have lunch together. The lunch goes well, and eventually the older writer brings his wife to a lunch and the narrator and wife hit it off. Then the narrator and the wife go out and have a picnic together which also goes well, but the narrator drops returning text messages from the wife. One reason is that the narrator’s very young daughter breaks her clavicle. Through a dinner party later in the story, the narrator learns that the writers wife is ill. And maybe that’s a good place to stop.

    Through the story I kept wrestling with what to make of the narrator. On one hand, I was perplexed by some of her decisions, but on the other hand, I had to admit I have made the same choices that she does. Such as when talking to the writer about traveling back to their home country, she omits telling him how her children cried and complained wherever they went, but made it sound like the trip was ideal. Not exactly a lie, but also not the truth. In another example, she doesn’t inform the daycare of her child’s fussiness which could help explain when the kid’s accident occurred. Her reasons for the omissions are understandable, but in another light of perspective, she could be viewed as manipulative. These are but two examples the narrator makes that left me with a feeling of ambiguity, which played well into the theme of this story.

    Then there was the use of language. As I alluded to before in the description, virtually everything is left unnamed. No cities, countries, locations, and especially proper names. Only two are used, and they are deliver deliberately to have the perfect impact on the story. Not only do the name reveals play into the theme of intimacy, but it also ties back into the motivations of the narrator. Why does she choose to reveal them at that time and in that manner? Furthermore, the language is smart, direct, cutting, but also vacant and void of a deeper meaning or connection. The narrator’s word choice appears to be open, but they are a defense, keeping people away.

    Through all of this, I have been chewing on the theme of “Intimacy.” What is Savaş trying to say about how people open up, and close themselves off? The narrator mentions a husband, and how they cooperate to take care of their children, and work, but she never shares any feelings about him. It’s never expressed that there is an issue between them, but then why is his name never shared with us? Most importantly, the wife of the writer makes efforts to connect with the narrator, which the narrator ignores. The narrator only changes her attitude when she find out the wife is ill. A rather shallow reaction, made worse by the narrator using her daughter’s injury as the explanation/excuse for the ghosting. Most people share themselves to form connections, but do some people share out of guilt? Sharing enough to stay relevant while still distant?

    “Intimacy” is my favorite type of story; one that I read over and over to discover more details and motivations, which enriches the story further. I keep thinking that I should be annoyed and disappointed with the narrator but I find her failings makes this character all the more human and believable. This story wonderfully confounds me. But so do most of the people I love. And they might say the same thing about me.

  • Short Story Review: “That Girl” by Addie Citchens

    (The short story “That Girl” by Addie Citchens appeared in the February 12th and 19th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Derek Abella

    Oh, it’s so much fun reading something that reminds you how powerful a short story can be. In a very deft, strong, subtle and powerful voice, Addie Citchens presents a complex and compelling narrative, as well as a fascinating character in Theo. “That Girl” is the type of story that, at the same time, inspires me to keep writing, and also reminds me how high that bar is to create something inspiring.

    I could say that this is a story about first love, but that description would be disservice to all the elements and themes in this story. Maybe not love, but it is about the discovery of passion and desire where it never existed before. Of kindness, and menace, and doing something that’s been deemed wrong but at the same time awakens the knowledge of the larger world around you, and how could that be wrong?

    Citchens’ takes us on Theo’s journey, which begins during her summer before she goes into ninth grade. One hot day she meets Shirlee, an older girl who should be going into eleventh grade but is still in ninth. This first section perfectly works at setting up the whole story, showing the desire, motivations, and direction of the characters. And the world these characters occupy is a place where violence is always just below the surface, and these girls are aware of it, and how powerless it can make them. It is easy to understand how and why Theo finds Shirlee’s kindness and understanding so intoxicating, especially for a girl who feels isolated in her loneliness.

    As I have been thinking about this story, and there are so many things to talk about, but I have been marveling at Citchens’ language, and her structuring of this story. Reading the piece, I never felt like a word was wasted. The language was pared down to the most essential and powerful. I was on Theo’s journey, and it would take time, but never did I feel like my time was wasted. (I can’t explain it, but I felt like Citchens respected the reader more than any writer I have read in a very long time.) And the structure of the story was in the mold of the “hero’s journey” but never for a second did it feel contrived or predictable. This was a brutal, at times, but honest journey that laid out it’s points so well, that when the story concluded, I knew the choice that Theo had to make, but I was still left heartbroken for her.

    And there are layers and layers to this story. I haven’t touched on half of them; mother’s and daughter, religion, sexual assault, growth and confidence, generational abuse… But also love, compassion, validation, and just listening… But I don’t to spoil this work, and ruin the magic spell that this story is. Addie Citchen’s “That Girl” is the best thing I have read in a long time. It is technically well crafted, beautifully written, and I love the character of Theo and wish I could learn more about her journey in this world.

  • Best of 2023 – Short Story Review: “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas

    (The short story “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas appeared in the July 10 & 17, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (SPOILERS AHEAD!)

    Photograph by Ryan Frigillana for The New Yorker

    I loved it.

    It was much better than The Lottery.

    I going to read it, again and again.

  • Short Story Review: “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas

    (The short story “Colorin Colorado” by Camille Bordas appeared in the July 10 & 17, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (SPOLIERS AHEAD!)

    Photograph by Ryan Frigillana for The New Yorker

    I loved it.

    It was much better than The Lottery.

    I going to read it, again and again.

  • Short Story Review: “Different People” by Clare Sestanovich

    (The short story “Different People” by Clare Sestanovich appeared in the January 30th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (SPOILERS ahead!)

    Illustration by Jillian Tamaki

    I have been trying for some time to come up with a good introduction for this piece, but I have decided that the best way to open this is to say that I really, deeply enjoyed reading “Different People” by Clare Sestanovich. So much so that I just want to start talking about it.

    This was such a smart, honest, tactile story which allowed me to meet and spend time with three characters. This was a story where I enjoyed the journey it was on, and when the conclusion of the piece arrived, I was completely satisfied with how it all tied together. This is the type of story that inspires me to write. It’s about people living their lives, and it is so cleverly constructed that the story never feels forced, or artificially fabricated.

    The story is about Gilly and her parents, Peter and Lisa, their divorce, how all of them change because of the divorce, and how Gilly begins to see her parents as people. But, it’s also about how one should beware of what they wish for. Or, it might also be about the need for security even as the world shifts under one’s feet. Or it might be about how one has to always grow and learn. Maybe it’s about how people hide in plain sight. Maybe. Maybe not. There could still be a level that I haven’t discovered yet.

    This story is divided up into six sections. Each of the sections are paced well, leading to a rise in the action, and then if not ending with a small climax, it concludes with a “button.” And these climax/buttons do a wonderful double duty of enlightening us on the characters in these sections, but also foreshadow upcoming events. Yet, this foreshadowing is so slight and sly that it seamlessly exists with the flow of the story, and doesn’t reek of a plot point.

    Also, I so enjoyed the very smart choices that Sestanovich made to develop her theme. I appreciated that the narrator doesn’t dwell often in the internal thoughts of any character, and allows actions to do the telling. Even a simple choice of having the parents referred to by their first names, which never puts the reader in the frame of thinking of these two people as parents first – Peter and Lisa remain adults. Thus, the reader sees the world as Gilly does – observing these two adults and how they react to this situation. All choices made by a writer that understands the craft of storytelling.

    I have read this story three, maybe four times now; it’s like a song I like listening to on repeat.  I still find these three characters compelling, and hope the best for them, if that makes sense. It’s also nice to be surprised with a well written story.