The New Yorker: "A Night at the Opera" by Janet Frame

This story, the contributor note tells us, was found among Janet Frame’s papers after her death in 2004. I have not read other work by this New Zealander, but the language in this story tells me she was a great talent. The story itself is nothing much. The narrator recalls laughing herself silly as a child watching the famed Marx Brothers movie. Years later she is institutionalized (she describes herself as “butcher-frocked and hallucinated, with my name on a list called Prefrontal Leukotomy,” leukotomy being the British term for lobotomy) and the administrators of her hospital decide it might be nice to show films to the patients. It is the Marx Brothers film they show, which incites all kinds of odd behavior in the others, but a distant memory in the narrator. So not very much happens in the story, but along the way the language is amazing. Which itself is amazing, because the narrator is supposed to be crazy and is going to be lobotomized. And yet here we have this perfectly rational discourse—a childhood memory, a thorough description of the hospital and grounds, and of the other patients. This suggests that the narrator is on the list for a lobotomy, but that the operation will be tragic when it happens because it will likely erase all this beauty. (I usually don’t comment on the illustrations that accompany the stories in The New Yorker, but this one, taken from the movie, is apropos be cause it shows Harpo [I think] about to give someone a bonk to the head with a rubber mallet—a Marxian lobotomy.)

So, back to the language. You can read it for yourself, of course, but here’s a snippet:

“The afternoon was ragged with leaves and the dreary, hungry untidiness of a child’s half past four. Faces and streets seemed wet and serious. The hem of sky, undone, hung down dirty and gray.”

If there is no other reason to read this story, there is at least this amazing language.

June 2, 2008: "A Night at the Opera by Janet Frame

The New Yorker: "The Full Glass" by John Updike

I probably have a duty to dislike a story by John Updike in The New Yorker, but, unfortunately, this is one I do like. It lacks plot, although it does have anyway something of a narrative arc as the protagonist, who claims that he lacks introspection, recalls the general outlines of his life. The organization for the story is that he is thinking of his peculiar habits, but this becomes recollection of the times in his life when he felt satisfied. This both relates to the “full glass” which is one of his peculiar habits (think glass half full, no not half, but completely full) and also the notion of being full, being fulfilled. He has not led an exemplary life—he recalls the details of an affair—but his marriage survived and he doesn’t seem to regret what he did.

That’s part of the point: he can’t regret anything because everything contributed to his full life. So, there’s not much plot, but the character is deep. A child of the depression raised by country grandparents, attracted to simple pleasures, briefly saddled with an unsuitable career, he is satisfied with the choices he made.

The story is also filled with great images, including that of the water strider on still water. He recalls this from his childhood, but it also enters his observation of his sleeping wife when he himself is restless: “I can’t fall back into unconsciousness, like a water strider held aloft on the surface tension of her beautiful stillness.” That was worth the price of admission right there. I don’t know that I’ll remember this story as being great when I’m listing the year’s best, but for the moment I like this one.

May 26, 2008: "The Full Glass" by John Updike

LitMag Wave: Lunch Hour Stories No. 22

Issue No. 22 of Lunch Hour Stories is “The Dead Pilot” by Gary Cuba. Despite the grim title, it’s a fun story about a backwoods South Carolina community and, in particular, Jimmy and his coon hound Horace, who are interesting variations on a corny stereotype. The skeletal remains of an Air Force pilot are discovered by Horace on Jimmy’s property. The explanation for how this old skeleton appeared where it did is sketchy, but not crucial to the story. And Jimmy does the right thing by trying to report the find to the Air Force. They, however, are a bundle of red tape and don’t want to hear what Jimmy has to say. So Jimmy comes up with his own solution to the problem. The result is a comedy that might remind you of “My Name is Earl” or maybe even the “Dukes of Hazzard.” Definitely worth the read.

The New Yorker: "East Wind" by Julian Barnes

I’ve never been a fan of Julian Barnes and this piece isn’t going to do anything to change that.

The story involves Vernon, a divorced father of two who is a real estate agent on the English east coast. He’s mostly just plodding along and doesn’t care about anything. In fact, he says repeatedly that he “doesn’t mind one way or the other.” He’s not good at flirting, to his credit, but he gives it a go anyway, and eventually beds Andrea, a woman he thinks is Polish. It’s hard to see what he sees in her. She’s brusque and not particularly attractive: “broad face, streaked hair, chunky body.” Although he says he’s growing attached to her, maybe falling in love, his actions don’t support that and it is in fact hard to believe. The sex doesn’t even seem that great and she’s not forthcoming about her past. He becomes curious when she reveals she isn’t worried about getting pregnant and instead of asking her what’s going on, he snoops on her, sneaks into her apartment, even Googles her using the bits of information he’s gleaned. And then he lets slip that he knows something about her that she hasn’t told him. Whereupon she disappears. And he doesn’t seem to mind one way or the other. So, we have a character who doesn’t care and generally doesn’t feel, who hooks up with another character who doesn’t seem to feel, and because he’s kind of a jerk their relationship doesn’t last. This isn’t the kind of story that gets me excited. In fact, I’d have to say that I don’t mind one way or the other.

May 19, 2008: "East Wind" by Julian Barnes

LitMag Wave: Subtropics No. 5

There is so much fiction to admire in issue No. 5 of Subtropics that I hardly know where to begin.

So, let me start with “Stump” by my friend Roy Kesey. The story is about Donny, a loser who screws up yet again, and sets out in his bumbling way to do the right thing, for the first time in his life. But his reputation catches up with him and so he’s at loose ends. Until his friend Mitch is called upon to rescue a horse in a stump. It’s a little hard to picture, except this is redwood country and the stumps are big. Reluctantly, Mitch takes Donny along with him and of course there are complications. Great setting, great dialogue, great tension. This is a wonderful story.

Next is “No More Happy Birthdays” by Suzanne Halmi, and the reader might begin to sense a theme here. This time the loser is Ted who has the hots for Laurel and launches a scheme to get her to have sex with him. He hooks up with some other kids who can supply drugs, but getting the drug apparently involves a walk through the cemetery at night. And then there are complications. This one ended a little too abruptly, I thought, but it was still a fun read, and Ted is a well-rendered character, and engaging even if you don’t want to like him.

Owen King’s “Nothing is in Bad Taste” was terrific, too. Cheryl is an ER nurse, Leonard works in advertising, and she’s ready to get out of the city and start a family. He’s not. Which leads to complications that I’m not sure the story really prepares the reader for, which is not to say that they weren’t believable. The great thing about the story is the private joke that Cheryl and Leonard have that starts out being in bad taste, but gets used to the point that its meaning is lost. Another fine story.

The next two stories, Ben Stroud’s “Borden’s Meat Biscuit” and Chris Bachelder’s “Gatsby’s Hydroplane,” seem out of place here. The first violates the magazine’s no-first-person rule, although perhaps that’s because its structure and voice are otherwise so unusual. The second is very short and turns on an odd observation about Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. I’m not sure how I feel about these stories. John Brandon’s “The Coming Summer” appears to get things back on track, but then not much happens. This one is about Marky, a weird twelve-year-old who is already nostalgic for his youth. He rides around on a yellow scooter and . . . talks to other weird people.

Marshall N. Klimasewiski’s “Aeronauts” is in an innovative structure: part epistolary, part dramatization in which August Strindberg appears, it may take more attention than I’m willing to give it.

Finally, on the back cover of the magazine, is Paul Lisicky’s “The Didache.” It’s a beautiful narrative by a son about what he has learned from his mother.

There is also fine poetry here, and one non-fiction piece, but I’ll leave that for someone else to dissect. It's a great issue.

LitMag Wave: Lunch Hour Stories No. 21

Issue No. 21 of Lunch Hour Stories is "Three Blocks from the Sun Door" by David McCaul.

The plot is fairly basic: Heather and Kip are tourists (she's Canadian, he's American, they met in Florence) in Madrid; they're both about to head home and seem tired of the backpacking scene (I can relate), and in a discoteca they both have encounters with a loutish Spaniard, Yago. The encounter escalates into a classic climax, with a modest twist at the end. Although the story is simple, it's told beautifully, with fine descriptions of the scene and and the people.

What is unusual here is the shifting point of view. We start in Yago's point of view (which is interesting, because he's a jerk even in his own mind), shift to Kip, then to Heather, back to Kip, then Yago, then Kip and Heather mixed, then Kip, Heather, Yago and finally Heather. I enjoyed these different persepectives on the scene but I think the shifts cause the story to lose focus. Because we end with Heather's thoughts, the story feels like it really is hers and I wonder if it wouldn't be stronger if it were told entirely from her point of view. It would be a different story, of course, because we'd lose Yago and Kip's observations unless they came out in dialogue, but I think I could live with that.

Another noticeable feature here is the amount of Spanish, not all of which belongs, I think. The dialogue in Spanish is fine, of course, but I'm not convinced that either the Candian or the American, who aren't fluent in Spanish, would have had their thoughts infiltrated by so much Spanish after being in the country a short time. And so it feels like the author intruding, attempting to make the scene more . . . Spanish.

Having said that, the story creates some memorable characters. Heather is complex and self-contradictory, wanting Kip to take action but then judging him for the action that he takes. She's self-confident and self-doubting at the same time: "Yes, she was a young woman traveling alone, but common sense and intuition had served her just fine, except, of course, in those instances when it hadn't." And then we get a list of the tight spots she's found herself in. Kip, on the other hand, is shy and trying to take uncharacteristic direct action, which is a great way to make a character stand out. He tries and of course things don't quite go as he plans. That makes the story zing. And Yago, the Spanish jerk, he's also not quite as macho as he thinks he is, and when the girl Jimena wants him to take action to defend her honor, he can't be bothered. These are great touches.

In the end, despite my complaint about focus, it's an enjoyable story. A good read.

The New Yorker: "A Man Like Him" by Yiyun Li

Despite an ending that is slightly disappointing (although don’t ask me what would be better; I just know that I was hoping for a stronger image or some revelatory act and I got neither), this is my favorite New Yorker of 2008 so far. And I say that at the risk of learning later that this is a novel excerpt, since I notice that Yiyun Li has a novel coming out in February. But I think this is a stand-alone story or at least works like one.

One of the reasons I like the story is that it is that I’m something of Sinophile and so the fact that it is set in China is a plus for me. Teacher Fei, a retired art teacher, has never married. (We aren’t told what Fei means, by the way, but one character with the pronunciation Fei means to give up or abandon, and that seems appropriate for this character in more ways than one.) He currently lives with and cares for his aged mother, who isn’t his natural mother. But he has lived in some disgrace ever since he was accused of inappropriate behavior with a young student, even though he says it was never proven. We don’t really know the truth, though, as Teacher Fei is an unreliable narrator who spends his days telling lies to women he meets in internet chatrooms. In a magazine he reads about a girl who is suing her father because, the girl claims, his affair led to her parents’ divorce. Teacher Fei takes up the father’s case, certain that the girl’s accusations are false or, at least, unfair, and he seeks out the father to let him know that he understands what it’s like.

Unlike many New Yorker stories, it seems, this one actually is suspenseful. And, despite his unreliability and some aspects of his character (he created opportunities for his mother to kill herself in the days after his father’s death), he’s an engaging man and I’m interested in him. I want to know what he’s going to do.

I’ve been meaning to read Li’s award-winning collection of stories and now I think I must.

May 12, 2008: “A Man Like Him” by Yiyun Li

LitMag Wave: Short Story No. 4

Short Story, now in its second year, is one to keep an eye on. The current issue, No. 4, Spring 2008, although maybe a little too southern, is excellent.

It begins with "Love City" by Stephanie Dickinson, a gripping story about a teenage girl in post-Katrina New Orleans. The girl and her baby are living in a bungalow motel, where life is hard and where it's hard to know whom to trust. Here's an excerpt. It's an outstanding story.

The other highlight in this issue for me is the interview with George Garrett. Editor Caroline Lord discusses a variety of subjects including several of the writers he's known over the years. On the subject of rejection (always a favorite with me), he says: "I tell my students that sooner or later, you'll find the right match with the right editor or publication. You have to be patient and let that happen and it will up to a point."

The issue includes a discussion with Reid Buckley about his forthcoming memoir and also short story by Scottie Fitzgerald that is more notable (in my opinion) as a historical document than a story. The issue concludes with "The Good Fight" by Rosa Shand, about a Columbia, South Carolina woman who decides to stay on her summer home in the mountains.

Of note also is the announcement on the Short Story website that the magazine is beginning a weekly short story podcast beginning in September. That sounds like a worthy effort and I look forward to hearing more.

LitMag Wave: Prairie Schooner Spring 2008

The current issue of Prairie Schooner is a good one, and since two of the better short stories from the issue are available online, this is a good time to get a taste of this magazine.

The first story is “Shelter” by Paula W. Peterson. I enjoyed it because one of my own stories (“Pet Palace” in Storyglossia) is also set in a pet store, although that’s about where the similarities end (although Peterson’s protagonist and my antagonist bear a certain resemblance, in that they both have lots of tattoos). Jack not only works in this pet store, he also lives upstairs. He’s been working their for years, it’s where he is comfortable, it’s his shelter. A woman comes into the store and she and Jack hit it off when she lets him tell her all about having a fish tank. But her life is complicated and Jack finds out why. You can read the rest! Although there isn’t much of a plot, the story is a great portrait of Jack—where he comes from, why is the way he is—and shows the depth of him. It’s a closed story, in the sense that it resolves itself in the end. I’m not a fan of tidy endings, but at least this one is a bit dark.

Next is “Lamb” by Colette Sartor, and this one is also online. It’s a layered story about Savina, who has recently given birth to Luca. Savina and Judith are a lesbian couple, both lawyers (on opposite sides of criminal cases) but it is Savina who is home with the baby. And then Savina’s mother arrives, trying in her clumsy way, to be part of Savina’s life even though she disapproves of her relationship with Judith. The startling core of this story is that she arrives with a whole lamb in a suitcase that she intends to cook for Easter, even though Judith is Jewish and Savina has agreed to raise Luca as a Jew. Complications ensue: how to cook the lamb, how long will she stay? And there’s the neat twist on the domestic conflict, since Savina resents Judith’s work life. Again there isn’t much of a plot and the resolution involves everyone coming to terms with everyone else, this time with an ending that’s mostly upbeat.

“The Bones” by Chris Gavaler (a friend of mine in nearby Lexington) is complex and involves a family taking a servant girl into the house. She’s from the Indian school and young Henry is obsessed with her Indian-ness, and is constantly asking her questions. But the girl, Ivy, is smart and educated and Henry’s mother wants a servant, not a girl who’s getting an education.

Also in this issue: “Oranges, Patas, Puddles,” is an excerpt from a novel by Paul Griner and this piece is set in India in 1947. The last fiction in the issue is “The Paprika Ewer” by Marc Fitten, set somewhere in Hungary. It’s an odd little story about Valeria who does a favor for the village potter, and receives from him a pitcher in return, but the village people aren’t happy about this blossoming relationship between the two and things don’t go well. Plus lots of poetry and several book reviews.

LitMag Wave: One Story #101

One Story's 101st issue is "Familial Kindness" by Kirsten Sundberg Lunstrum. It's a traditional story with a familiar cadence, and it focuses on a very domestic scene. Alma is preparing for her daughter's wedding when she is surprised by a visit from Charlie Dunne. Charlie is Alma's sister's husband and we eventually learn that Sara has died and that Charlie has come for Lovisa's wedding. As the preparations continue--Charlie helps a great deal--we learn how lonely both Charlie and Alma are, how they have in common some resentment toward Sara, her irresponsibility and self-centeredness. And so the reader develops an expectation. Frustrating that expectation might have made this a more powerful story, but the ending we are given is also satisfying. The outcome is by no means certain but we have a sense of what may come in the future for these characters, and that's not a bad thing.

Lunstrum is an accomplished writer and this is a very solid story. What appealed to me most about it were the perfect details: the sand that Alma sweeps from the house, the recollection of Charlie's hair from his wedding to Sara, the sewing of Lovisa's wedding dress. All these things are delivered in ways that not only let us see, but also show us character, particularly Alma's. This one's worth a read.

LitMag Wave: Lunch Hour Stories #20

You may (or may not) recall that last year Dan Wickett of Emerging Writers Network and Dzanc Books declared the month of May to be Short Story Month, along the lines of April's Poetry Month. Dan commented on lots of short stories that month and several bloggers joined in. My contribution was to read and comment on as many short story collections as I could, and I think I got through about fifteen. I don't have time to do quite that much this year, but I would like to spend the month highlighting some stories from literary magazines, and we'll see what else happens along the way.

First, let me mention again T.J. Forrester's new website/blog, Five Star Literary Stories, which will focus on one story at a time from an online literary journal. Today T.J. posted a commentary by me about a fine story from Night Train. Be sure to check it out.

The first journal I'll discuss here is Lunch Hour Stories which, after the One Story model, prints a bound copy of a single story and sends them out every three weeks or so. Very handy, very portable. I have a new subscription to the journal and my first issue is #20: "The Guitarist" by K.T. Nelson.

The story is described by the author as a "mild fantasy" and that's a good description. It is set in a village in the mountains that might be of the sort that Star Trek explorers might stumble upon: timeless, civilized, untouched by the outside. Except then a stranger comes to town and turns things upside down. It is a classic set up for a story, of course, and it is handled wonderfully. The stranger is a guitarist who sings, among other things, "life songs," that have some kind of mystical power to them that is not really explained. A young girl in the village encounters the guitarist and has ideas about why he has come, but she seems to be wrong. And I'm with the story up to that point, but then its ending, which I won't spoil, seems too fast and unfocused. I'd be happy to read more of this author's work, though, so I wouldn't say the story is wholly unsuccessful.

More stories tomorrow!