Tag: Writing

  • Short Story Review: “Rate Your Happiness” by Catherine Lacey

    (The short story “Rate Your Happiness” by Catherine Lacey appeared in the April 13th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Tobias Nicolai

    When I finished reading Catherine Lacey’s “Rate Your Happiness” I was reminded of driving a car with a manual transmission. Especially when you don’t put the car in gear and still step on the gas which causes the engine to rev really high, but you don’t go anywhere. In this story, the narrator calls this “meaningless motion” and they’re right. And it’s also very frustrating.

    I understand that the theme of this story was existing in atrophy, and motion that leads to nowhere. Unfortunately, having a protagonist that doesn’t make a decision or choice leaves the ending of the story empty and unsatisfying. There is one sentence in the last paragraph which I think attempts to bring about a conclusion: “Louise returned to the street with real intent, finally carrying her contradictory desires with total clarity…” but I have to say that this sentence is being asking to do a whole lot of heavy lifting for this story. It implies that Louise has made a choice to accept who she is when it comes to how she has reacted to the situations the story has presented. Yet, is it truly a choice when the character is only acknowledging that they don’t make choices? Though an interesting philosophical question, it doesn’t work narratively.

    What “Rate Your Happiness” presents is something that feels akin to the first one or two chapters of a novel. There are a lot of moving parts here, and Lacy does a good job of balancing them in the narrative. No one idea, theme, or character dominates, and it all flows and ripples over each other creating the feeling of a very real and complicated character in the protagonist of Louise. In fact, I enjoyed all the characters that were presented in this story, and wanted to see and hear more from them.

    Like I said, if this was the first chapter of a novel, I’m hooked and I want to see how this plays out. As a short story, the engine is revving up, but we didn’t go anywhere.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Stressful, Blue to White, and I Gotta Run

    ODDS and ENDS: Stressful, Blue to White, and I Gotta Run

    (I will sing, sing my song…)

    Man in blue tracksuit frantically running out of the Sakura Heights apartment building door.
    Word Press’ AI creates some awful images, huh?

    You know the one thing in my life that I had no idea would be stressful; Planning a kid’s birthday party. I thought planning our wedding was bad. I had no idea that birthday parties for 10 ten year old girls causes me to lose sleep at night. I wake up in a cold sweat scared that I have forgotten some detail. My stomach churns at the idea a kid will come to the party and not have a good time, or will be excluded for whatever stupid reason, and then it is my responsibility to make sure EVERYONE HAS A GOOD TIME! Seriously, there should be a list for new parents of all the shit that will stress you out that you have no idea on God-s Green Earth are stressful. Making memories here…

    So, it seems my default colors right now is white and blue. I say all of this because as I start to “Spring Clean” and de-clutter my closet, I’m tossing shirts which are old, and have holes in them. What I am left with is an amazing spectrum of blue to white, all in an Oxford style. I have written a couple of times, how in my middle age period, I have taken on a Classic American/Oxford/New England/Ivy League look. It feels comfortable, defined, and at the same time casual on me. The draw back here is that I seem to have boxed myself in color wise. I do have some Nantucket Red pants, but really, I seem to have dropped the ball on having a splash of color in my life.

    Ah… It’s almost 11am, and I need to run to the grocery store. It’s a busy day and I have a lot to do.

  • Planning Home Projects

    General Update – The car got fixed, you know, from yesterday. It was the engine thermostat that needed to be replaced. Cost over $1,200 to get it fixed. But the car is back, and all is well in the Universe.

    The other thing that happened yesterday was that the air conditioner that we ordered arrived a day early. See, this winter, we got rid of the a/c unit that was in the kid’s room – it was over six years old, and had seen better days. The plan here is to move the unit in the livingroom (6,000 btu) into the kids room, and replace it with a larger and more powerful (8,000 btu) unit. 6k btu might be overkill in the kid’s room, but it just wasn’t cutting it in the livingroom. (Also, the end of March is a great time to buy an a/c as they are all on sale, to move out last year’s inventory for the new in prep for Summer.) BUT, before all of this installing can happen in both rooms, we need to repaint the windows and trim, so everything will be matching, and the apartment looks a little more unified.

    I say all of this because, as I was hauling the unbelievable heavy a/c unit up three flights of stairs, I was excited for all of the home improvement projects we have. You know of the a/c and window project. Then there is redoing our “mudroom” area by the front door, and replacing the livingroom ceiling fan. There is the touchup painting in our bedroom, and hopefully coming up with a better closet situation. The biggest project of them all is working on the kid’s room. It reflects the interests of an eight-year-old, and not the aspirations of a soon to be teenager. Not sure how to accomplish that, nor what budget for it will be, but I know that it’s important to the kid, so it’s important to me.

    I say all of this because what it really means is that we are coming out of Winter. We can open the windows again, and let the breeze blow through. There is a wonderful peace and tranquility that comes from this time of year. It is fleeting though. Soon, it will be too hot and steamy in the City, and the windows will close up and the a/c’s will roar on. If it’s a good year, we’ll have a comfortable Spring until early June. If it’s a bad year, we’ll be locking up in May.

  • Check Engine Light: The Beginning of the End

    I don’t mind owning a car, and I’m okay with owning a car in the City, but if I had my choice, I would not own a car. I do enjoy how the car allows me to feel free in the sense that I can leave NYC whenever I want, and I would be lying if having a car hasn’t made some tasks/chores a whole lot easier.

    My problem is that I feel like a car is a ticking time bomb, and at any moment, it is going to blow up in my face. What that means is that a car is just a machine, and the more you use a machine, the likelihood of it breaking down increases, and it will break down. That’s just a fact. So, to me, owning a car is just a waiting game until that breakdown happens. Doesn’t matter how well one can take care of the car; it will break down.

    I have been very good with our car. I get the oil changed regularly, go in for a yearly tune up, replace the tires, clean it often and not to brag, I have gotten a little handy with doing some basic maintenance on the car myself. I am proud of my ability to make sure that this car runs well, and hopefully for a very long time.

    But that ticking is never far from the back of my head.

    And on Friday, the “Check Engine” light came on.

    Tick Tick Tick…

    I didn’t fart around, and immediately schedule to have to car checked out today, Monday morning. Driving the car over to the shop, I couldn’t hear anything wrong with the engine; no gurgles, hiccups, chokes, coughs, or anything. She was purring like she always has. Even when I dropped the car off and the tech was asking me questions, he seemed a bit surprised that I hadn’t heard or felt anything. “Let’s check it out to be safe,” he said.

    Maybe, hopefully, the light means nothing. My dad had a Volkswagen Rabbit who’s check engine light came on, and when he took it in, they couldn’t find anything, but the light wouldn’t shut off. So, my dad just put a piece of electrical tape over the light; problem solved.

    I could get that lucky, too, right? Just a bug, no big deal.

    Tick Tick Tick…

  • Short Story Review: “Floating” by Souvankham Thammavongsa

    (The short story “Floating” by Souvankham Thammavongsa appeared in the March 30th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Julien Posture

    Dating sucks. I think there are very few Universal Truths out there, and that’s one of them; Dating, on the whole, is not a pleasurable experience. When dating works, it’s unbelievable, exciting, fulfilling, and all the other words that poets have shared for hundreds of years. But of all the unfun things that dating can conjure up in a person, the not knowing where you stand with the other person is damn near the worst. Souvankham Thammavongsa’s “Floating” tackles that feeling of uncertainty when it comes to meeting someone new, and though it is a charming piece, it does seem to trip over its own feet at the end.

    I say charming because the piece feels as if it is coming from a very authentic place for the protagonist. She is waiting to give a talk in front of people, when a gentleman strikes up a conversation with her. They have a mutual friend, and he suggests that they should all get dinner together. We learn that the protagonist has gotten out of a bad marriage, and has some additional baggage with her family, which lends credence to her hesitation and the guard she puts up with this new man. But soon, he starts to become a bit of mystery. He has to travel for many months, and their possible connection is delayed. Soon, she starts to learn new things about him that don’t totally add up, and bring into question his motivations and intentions. All of this leads the story to create that feeling of instability that only dating, or the hope of dating, can create in a person, which makes all of this relatable.

    I am a fan of stories that are about characters dealing with a situation they’re never fully able to understand. The example I always use is the film “Picnic at Hanging Rock” which is about people dealing with the mystery of what happed at a picnic. “Floating” is that type of story; the protagonist is never able to unravel the mystery of this man, and must come to terms with that. And when I said that the story trips over its own feet, I say that because she doesn’t make a decision at the end of the story. I admit that I might be splitting hairs here, but there is a difference in “floating” because one didn’t make a choice, and “floating” because one is choosing to wait and see. One is passive, the other is active and has agency. Even with an attempted “Dead Chick in the Basket”* ending to conclude the piece, the protagonist chooses to be passive, and though that might be the most realistic decision in this situation, for a short story, it’s not a satisfying narrative conclusion.

    *“Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a story device wherein the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”