Tag: Wood Sorrel House

  • Short Story Review: “Neighbors” by Zach Williams

    (The short story “Neighbors” by Zach Williams appeared in the March 25th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Devin Oktar Yalkin

    A movie I love, just deeply admire, is Picnic on Hanging Rock by Peter Weir. For a movie that was a hit, and enormously influential, I have met very few people who have seen it. I won’t go into too much detail on it, but it’s a movie about the experience of being involved with a mystery. The characters in the film evolve and grow because of the mystery, and in a sense, the resolution of the mystery is not needed for the story. I can’t prove it, but Zach Williams might have seen this movie, and if he hasn’t, he should watch it, as I think he’d like it.

    “Neighbors” is the second story I have read by Williams, and it is 100% the opposite of “Wood Sorrel House,” yet both stories, just like Hanging Rock, revolve around mysteries that never get solved,  but aren’t really about the mysteries. “Neighbors” is about a man doing a favor and checks in on his elderly neighbor. And I am leaving it at that because I don’t want to ruin the fun of this story.

    Just like in “Wood Sorrel House,” “Neighbors” just got stuck in my head, and wouldn’t go away. The story kept poking at me, asking me to reflect on some of the experiences that I have had, how I reacted in the moment, and how I processed them after. I wish I could point to the one thing, phrase or moment in the story where I got captured by it, but that “thing” remains elusive, unable to be grasped. The closest I can come to is the narrator talking to his wife on the beach about his experience, as that moment felt very honest and true, but I also feel like I was swept up in this story at that point.

    If I had Zach Williams in front of me, and besides asking him if he’s seen Hanging Rock, I might ask him what this story was about, and I’m pretty sure he’d answer with asking me, what did I think the story was about? Except, I don’t think he’s being a smart aleck if he did that. Williams is a very capable writer, who is in control of his craft and is purposefully creating a story that lives in the gray arears that populate most people’s lives. So, if you’re asking what the story was about, then you’re focusing on the mystery, and not what the experience was.

  • Best of 2022 – Short Story Review: “Wood Sorrel House” by Zach Williams

    (The short story “Wood Sorrel House,” by Zach Williams, Appeared in the March 21st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I see spoilers!)

    I do not know what to make of this story. I haven’t stopped thinking about the thing since I finished reading it, but I still can’t come up with what it’s all about. And this is meant as a compliment. If a story lives on in the reader’s mind, and doesn’t dissolve into forgotten nothingness as soon as they are finished with it, then that author has achieved something. I tip my hat to you Zach Williams; your story is taking up space in my brain.

    “Wood Sorrel House” is about a couple and a toddler seemingly trapped in a cottage in the woods. Days pass, they age, but the toddler does not. Each morning food and supplies are replenished in the house, thus allowing them to live in the cottage. The couple tries to figure out where they are and why they are there, and soon they discover the toddler is never able to get hurt.

    I have an ego, and some days I think I am smart, and when I started reading this story, I was like, “Oh, this is an absurdist styled story, and it’s a metaphor for death.” Because, if my college education taught me anything, it’s that absurdist/surrealist/modernist stories are all really about death. But as I kept reading, I began to doubt my ego-driven conclusion. Why was the snapping turtle killed? What happed when the male in the couple disappeared? What happened to the toddler when the woman went down to the lake for days at a time? Why did the couple age, and get injured, but the toddler was immune and also ageless?

    I found that this story was taping into emotional territories that made me react. Perhaps it’s because I’m a parent, but I kept feeling this sense of dread for the toddler, that something awful was going to happen. There was a sense of disgust in how the man went out and destroyed nature. And a sense of sorrow as the woman tried to make sense of all of it. I was reacting to this story, I was compelled by it, but I couldn’t make sense of it. If it wasn’t about death, what was it about? Was it the lack of logic? Things stayed the same at the cottage, but the outside world seemed to keep moving; not changing into something different, but just moving along. Was this a metaphor for dealing with Covid? Maybe it had no meaning, but that would make it about death, right? What was it? Like I said, I don’t know what to think about the story, but the story is making me think about what it could be about. That’s a pretty successful story.

    (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: “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert

    (The short story “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert appeared in the October 17th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Millie von Platen

    Sometimes a story comes along, and calls me out on principle. Such as, a story will ask me, “If you were okay with this trick being used in that story, then you have to be okay with this same trick being used in this story, right?” That is what I feel “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert did. I mean, if I was okay with “Wood Sorrel House” not making much sense, then I should be okay with this story not adding up.

    Now, I’m not saying all of this to be derogatory to David Gilbert. I did like his story. I enjoyed the different elements of the family interacting with each other. The quick glimpses of issues family members had, and how they were either dealing with them or hiding them. I picked up easily on the blanket of death and mourning that was all tucked into this story, and not that this diminished the piece, as I felt it added a depth.

    Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this story was an excerpt from a novel, or had once been a part of a novel. There were a great number of characters mentioned, and it felt like even more ran in and out of this story. Everybody had a backstory, and in a few cases, I wanted to know more about them, and not so much about feeding tubes. As the story came closer to the ending, I was expecting a payoff of all these tangents being pulled or tied in together. But that didn’t happen. What occurred was a ceremony, which did connect to the theme of the piece, but wasn’t really explained.

    Hence the feeling I was being called out on principle. I have pointed out and defended many short stories that have contained inconclusive endings with the reasoning being that a short story need only have a rise in action, and not a conclusive climax, like a novel, if theme or character or mood is the driving force of the piece. As such, I find “Come Softly to Me” is that type of short story.

    Yet, I still found myself wanting more from the story. That’s a compliment to the writer and the story, and perhaps that is the reason why I felt like there was a novel connection to the creation of the story. But wanting more can also create a feeling of frustration, though I was enjoying this ride.

    (Hello again! Ya, I see you. Look, if you are here, then I want to say thank you for reading. Not that this is a transactional relationship, but if you could help me out with giving a like, or comment, or sharing the post, or even following the blog, really would be appreciated. Just trying to build a following.)

  • BEST OF 2022: Short Story Review of “Wood Sorrel House” by Zach Williams

    (The short story “Wood Sorrel House,” by Zach Williams, Appeared in the March 21st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I see spoilers!)

    I do not know what to make of this story. I haven’t stopped thinking about the thing since I finished reading it, but I still can’t come up with what it’s all about. And this is meant as a compliment. If a story lives on in the reader’s mind, and does dissolve into forgotten nothingness as soon as they are finished with it, then that author has achieved something. I tip my hat to you Zach Williams; your story is taking up space in my brain.

    “Wood Sorrel House” is about a couple and a toddler seemingly trapped in a cottage in the woods. Days pass, they age, but the toddler does not. Each morning food and supplies are replenished in the house, thus allowing them to live in the cottage. The couple tries to figure out where they are and why they are there, and soon they discover the toddler is never able to get hurt.

    I have an ego, and some days I think I am smart, and when I started reading this story, I was like, “Oh, this is an absurdist styled story, and it’s a metaphor for death.” Because, if my college education taught me anything, it’s that absurdist/surrealist/modernist stories are all really about death. But as I kept reading, I began to doubt my ego-driven conclusion. Why was the snapping turtle killed? What happed when the male in the couple disappeared? What happened to the toddler when the woman went down to the lake for days at a time? Why did the couple age, and get injured, but the toddler was immune and also ageless?

    I found that this story was taping into emotional territories that made me react. Perhaps it’s because I’m a parent, but I kept feeling this sense of dread for the toddler, that something awful was going to happen. There was a sense of disgust in how the man went out a destroyed nature. And a sense of sorrow as the woman tried to make sense of all of it. I was reacting to this story, I was compelled by it, but I couldn’t make sense of it. If it wasn’t about death, what was it about? Was it the lack of logic? Things stayed the same at the cottage, but the outside world seemed to keep moving; not changing into something different, but just moving along. Was this a metaphor for dealing with Covid? Maybe it had no meaning, but that would make it about death, right? What was it?

    Like I said, I don’t know what to think about the story, but the story is making me think about what it could be about. That’s a pretty successful story.

  • Short Story Review: “Wood Sorrel House” by Zach Williams

    (The short story “Wood Sorrel House,” by Zach Williams, Appeared in the March 21st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I see spoilers!)

    I do not know what to make of this story. I haven’t stopped thinking about the thing since I finished reading it, but I still can’t come up with what it’s all about. And this is meant as a compliment. If a story lives on in the reader’s mind, and does dissolve into forgotten nothingness as soon as they are finished with it, then that author has achieved something. I tip my hat to you Zach Williams; your story is taking up space in my brain.

    “Wood Sorrel House” is about a couple and a toddler seemingly trapped in a cottage in the woods. Days pass, they age, but the toddler does not. Each morning food and supplies are replenished in the house, thus allowing them to live in the cottage. The couple tries to figure out where they are and why they are there, and soon they discover the toddler is never able to get hurt.

    I have an ego, and some days I think I am smart, and when I started reading this story, I was like, “Oh, this is an absurdist styled story, and it’s a metaphor for death.” Because, if my college education taught me anything, it’s that absurdist/surrealist/modernist stories are all really about death. But as I kept reading, I began to doubt my ego-driven conclusion. Why was the snapping turtle killed? What happed when the male in the couple disappeared? What happened to the toddler when the woman went down to the lake for days at a time? Why did the couple age, and get injured, but the toddler was immune and also ageless?

    I found that this story was taping into emotional territories that made me react. Perhaps it’s because I’m a parent, but I kept feeling this sense of dread for the toddler, that something awful was going to happen. There was a sense of disgust in how the man went out a destroyed nature. And a sense of sorrow as the woman tried to make sense of all of it. I was reacting to this story, I was compelled by it, but I couldn’t make sense of it. If it wasn’t about death, what was it about? Was it the lack of logic? Things stayed the same at the cottage, but the outside world seemed to keep moving; not changing into something different, but just moving along. Was this a metaphor for dealing with Covid? Maybe it had no meaning, but that would make it about death, right? What was it? Like I said, I don’t know what to think about the story, but the story is making me think about what it could be about. That’s a pretty successful story.

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