Tag: The New Yorker

  • Short Story Review: “The Repugnant Conclusion” by Elif Batuman

    (The short story “The Repugnant Conclusion” by Elif Batuman appeared in the April 25th & May 2nd issue of The New Yorker.)

    Kierkegaard!

    It’s just fun to say it! Kierkegaard!

    I know he was Danish, but I like to say his name in a heavy German accent, like I’m acknowledging a rival has bested me.

    Kierkegaard!

    Personally, I like any short story that openly tackles anything philosophical. (Bonus points if you mention KIERKEGAARD!) “The Repugnant Conclusion,” by Elif Batuman, is such a story. The piece revolves around three friends who are sophomores at Harvard; Selin (the narrator), Svetlana, and Lakshmi. Summer vacation is over and they are all returning back to school, and they do what college kids do; they study, they talk, they think about sex, they have sex, they think about life in and out of school, and try to take what they are learning and use it, or at least discuss it. But they are not the old “normal” Ivy League college kids. They are Turkish, Russian and Indian respectively. It is a factor in their experience at college, and how they will go forth in the world when they leave. They are aware also of their Americanness, as well. All factors that weigh on them.

    I enjoyed how this story introduced me to characters I had not experienced before, and I also enjoyed how they reminded me of my college experience with my friends. I found the story truthful in the perspectives each character had. Nothing seemed forced or put on. Yet, I knew full well that each character was staking a different philosophical position in a narrative structure. (Kierkegaard!) It’s a trick, and one that if played wrong could come across as heavy handed and shallow. I thought Batuman hit the right note. Maybe these characters will be like this for the rest of their lives, maybe it’s a phase, maybe they will evolve into something else. Maybe it’s just sophomore year.

    And maybe it’s just life.

    (Say, don’t forget to like this post, or share it, or leave a comment. I got bills to pay, you know.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Museum of Natural History, Alice Walker’s Journals, Dallas Mavericks, and Jazz Samba

    (Stay Fresh, Cheese Bags!)

    It’s Earth Day! AND the kid is on Spring Break! So, we’re going to the Museum of Natural History today! This is low hanging fruit when it comes to doing something with the kid that she will enjoy for several hours. For most of my friends with kids, the zoo is their “go-to” place to occupy some time, but my kid never has really enjoyed going to a zoo. Now, a petting zoo, or looking at baby animals, she will go crazy over that. But your normal, run of the mill zoo; nope, my daughter ain’t having it. What she wants is a display case with rocks in it. Maybe a diorama from the 1920’s. Give us a squid and a whale!

    Yesterday, I read a piece in The New Yorker about a book of Alice Walker’s journals. I was interested because I think Walker is a great writer who I look up to, and being that I journal, I am curious what her journals are like. Two things I took away from the article are that Walker at one point thought she should smoke “less weed,” and her preoccupation with money. I admit that I haven’t read this book and am only going off what was in the article, but these two points, weed and money, humanized Alice Walker for me, and made me respect her more. The weed statement means that she feels like she should be getting high less, and doing other things, and I infer that means writing. Even someone like Alice Walker thinks she should be working harder. And there is money. It’s not surprising that Walker was thinking about money issues before she was “ALICE WALKER” and was just another writer trying to make it. Yet, to see it in her journals just proves that finances were taking up a large part of her thought process, and needed to be expressed. Yes, she was trying out new ideas that would become great stories, but she was also trying to figure out how to pay rent and eat.

    I have been enjoying watching the Dallas Mavericks vs the Utah Jazz in the NBA Playoffs. Especially, I have enjoyed the Dallas bench playing some clutch basketball.

    Today’s album that I am listening to is “Jazz Samba” by Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd.

  • Short Story Review: “Just a Little Fever” by Sheila Heti

    (The short story “Just a Little Fever” by Sheila Heti appeared in the April 18th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    How’s that line go? “Youth is wasted on the young.” I’m sure when George Bernard Shaw said it in his Irish accent, it sound sounded profound, and very witty. I know it was meant as an insult to young people, and just about every time I have heard it said, especially toward me, it has been used as a shorthand to say that I am acting irrationally and stupid. But as I have gotten older, I find the line has more regret and melancholy in it, not toward the young, but for the older person saying it.

    “Just a Little Fever” by Sheila Heti is a sweet, and charming story that grabbed me from the beginning. We meet Angela, who is youthful, and shampooing cherries into her hair, not because it was suggested to her by a friend or an article, but just because she thought of it, and wanted to try it. With her hair smelling of cherries, so goes to work as a bank teller and meets the well-dressed but older gentleman Thomas, who comes up to her window. They have a short but honest conversation, and Angela finds herself still thinking about Thomas. Angela decides to look up Thomas’ phone number from his account, and asks him out to dinner. After a little first date awkwardness, they continue to see each other, and enter into a relationship. Clearly, more happens, but I don’t want to spoil it.

    Like I said, I found myself enjoying the story from the start, but what really endeared me to it was how Heti kept layering, or maybe reveling is the better word, the deep truths and inner workings to Angela’s character. It resonated with me how Angela viewed being around people her own age, and how Thomas made her feel calm, and in the moment. How Angela had to question and test her feelings with Thomas, and how she began to see that people in her life might not be the healthiest people for her. I don’t think Heti ever overtly said that Angela was happy with Thomas, but there was that feeling coming out of the text, indescribable but apparent. When the final section started, leading to the climax and resolution, I dreaded reading it, because, not that I knew what was coming, but because what was coming was authentic to who Angela was.

    Yes, the ending frustrated me, but in the very best possible way. I found myself caring, very strongly, for these two characters. And though my experience was not exactly the same as Angela and Thomas, but I had a moment with someone once, where I was very happy to be in the middle with them. But, I too was young, and wasted my youth.

  • Short Story Review: “The Pub with No Beer” by Kevin Barry

    (The short story, “The Pub with No Beer” by Kevin Barry, appeared in the April 11th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    There is a lot of regret in literature, you know? Memories and ghosts from the past speaking to characters in the present. I mean, I get it. It’s what we all do with our lives. We think about the past, and wonder if we made the right decisions, or we just allow ourselves to bathe in the melancholy memories of a day dream. But we have to watch out, and not allow ourselves to wallow in the past.

    Unfortunately, “The Pub with No Beer” has a bit of the wallow to it. Though the language and skill of writing that Kevin Barry has is impressive, the story never really gains any traction, nor gets beyond well worn stereotypes. The owner of an Irish pub, which is situated along the coast arrives at his, due to Covid, closed pub and cleans the place up. As he does this, he has memories of people who used to frequent the place, along with a caller at the door, concluding with a memory of the owners father. To be blunt, nothing happens. I feel like the intention was that each memory, and act of cleaning the pub, was building to something. Yet the execution of that intention manifested in a protagonist starting the story and ending the story in the same emotional spot. Nothing was gained, through action or insight, thus making the story feel like it was just passing time.

    Stories of this ilk do irk me; these “character study/nothing happens” short stories just confound me. I think this does get into the realm of lit theory, which is that for a story, any type of story, to be successful or even satisfying, either the protagonist or the reader has to gain insight, or a realization, or accomplish something, which was impeded by either an external or internal force. Even stories based in naturalism and realism still need a plot and a climax. Something has to happen. That’s what makes it a story.

  • Short Story Review: “The Ukraine” by Artem Chapeye

    (The short story “The Ukraine,” by Artem Chapeye and translated from the Ukrainian by Zenia Tompkins,, appeared in the April 4th, 2022 issue of “The New Yorker.)

    I feel that I am like most Americans, in the sense that I didn’t know a whole lot about Ukraine until about two months ago. I knew that a town in Texas was named after a city Ukraine, that the Crimea was in Ukraine, and that’s where the Charge of the Light Brigade took place. I knew that Chernobyl was in Ukraine, and that the country used to be a part of the Soviet Union. Let’s see, there was also that Trump/Biden impeachment thing that had a Ukraine connection. But, outside of that…

    I also think it is an incorrect belief that one writer can capture the whole spirit of a nation. Steinbeck’s America was different from Kerouac’s, as was Baldwin’s and Twain’s. Each is different, and was still correct. Artem Chapeye’s story, “The Ukraine” is about Ukraine, if you couldn’t put that together, and also about a relationship between the narrator and a woman. The cynical side of me, the judgmental side to be honest, was hesitant to read it because the title alone made it feel like The New Yorker was only publishing this story due to current events. As I started reading, and the narrator spoke of his travels across Ukraine with his girlfriend, I had the bad feeling that the author was going to try and capture all of Ukraine in one piece. And as I stated before, I find these encapsulations an act of folly.

    Like I said, I was being judgmental.

    “The Ukraine” is not an exercise of excessive nationalist propaganda, but a soft, quiet meditation on memories, life, death, acceptance, and travel that bonds people together. (In fact, the story has a great line against public displays of overt patriotism, that I won’t ruin.) Maybe part of the power of this story is the fact that as places and cities of Ukraine are named, in my mind, I can see the images of burnt out buildings, and bomb cratered streets. To hear that these places were once a destination that brought about joy to the couple in the story, created a palatable melancholy for all the things lost. About half way through the piece, it finally dawned on me that the fact the story took place in Ukraine was inconsequential. The act of experiencing places together with someone you love, sharing time, creating memories, these are the actions that make life valuable. I will say that the climax was not a total surprise, as it had been hinted, but it still held the needed weight to conclude the story.

    This was not a revolutionary work. It’s didn’t break new ground in literature, or change the landscape of fiction. No, it wasn’t that. What it was, was authentic, and honest. It pointed out a fault of mine, while also reminding me that this truth still exists, “People are beautiful, even if they don’t realize it.”