tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52341008729593629782024-03-18T10:36:42.198-05:00Short Stories All the TimeAnn Graham - - - I share a thought or two about some short stories - - - Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comBlogger1175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-89925883796041094582024-02-16T10:36:00.002-06:002024-02-16T10:36:16.884-06:00Kate Atkinson, "Dissonance"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RRL3YyKQ7hdtRv2KvAIuHcxCwlsNdcwN6Vc1BShBbZIalQB_ZcXpav4pUSxSWbX2aGl68StFT6jf6bgR1qJ4h9agYaOfFfWzdP16yC4ym4hoLP4iyNsx_m1Zn7fNhdmuwU3lwqUGV9ihCg9LXPlShHzmydbeO5Uh7VsvzrxCkIeyiCeNWWfarBYRf7Q/s750/Not%20the%20End%20of%20the%20World.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="750" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2RRL3YyKQ7hdtRv2KvAIuHcxCwlsNdcwN6Vc1BShBbZIalQB_ZcXpav4pUSxSWbX2aGl68StFT6jf6bgR1qJ4h9agYaOfFfWzdP16yC4ym4hoLP4iyNsx_m1Zn7fNhdmuwU3lwqUGV9ihCg9LXPlShHzmydbeO5Uh7VsvzrxCkIeyiCeNWWfarBYRf7Q/s320/Not%20the%20End%20of%20the%20World.png" width="320" /></a></div>"Dissonance" illustrates a family in trouble. While the mother constantly admonishes Simon, the young video playing son, the daughter is militaristic in her every action, and presumably, this is a positive attribute. At 22:00 always has a mug of hot chocolate, for example, and her books line up with the edge of the shelf. Both adolescents say that they wish their mother would die. The story starts, "Simon wished his mother would die. Right that minute." There's no way the reader wouldn't continue reading. And even though Simon is hard to take, one feels his pain and isolation. His sister, Rebecca, is unkind to him. Simon is one to be concerned about, "One day everyone would know the name of Simon McFarlane. Know it and fear it." However, Atkinson doesn't go there.<p></p><p>The mother has a live-in boyfriend she knew back in college. The father has remarried and his younger wife is pregnant, a secret from Pam. The story's turns of events further illustrate the vulnerability of Simon and Rebecca, two kids from a so-called "broken" home with a mother's strangled expectations and obliviousness of her kids' traumas. </p><p>Atkinson shows Simon playing Tekken 3 while his mother's complaints play in his mind. This structure works wonderfully well. "She was going to tell his father. <i>Shoplifting, Simon. That's theft, pure and simple</i>. Like the shops weren't ripping him off in the first place. <i>And how do you work that one out, Simon? What were you thinking?</i> Stupid cow."</p><p>"Dissonance" is the fourth story in the collection, <i>Not the End of the World </i>published in the United States in 2002. <br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-38651986395075527142024-01-15T05:49:00.002-06:002024-01-15T05:52:21.795-06:00Hilma Wolitzer, "Today a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNnUsBhWkKHK5LptIEMufgDBkSCVSSEXOZaNd5SvROg_aM81Jqk2FYzAxGHuVCutJu-mxD4IPfvtuQrrZeHgR407kAXzB2kkmaxEDqLGwfY23D5PZD1pBw3emOmjLSOvmlaRFe2fht2PSHFRsdY5kyVYuV6NHm2XTqhme6TzAKA5GltfXe9h98WnL78w/s804/Screenshot%202024-01-15%20at%205.33.57%E2%80%AFAM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="804" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNnUsBhWkKHK5LptIEMufgDBkSCVSSEXOZaNd5SvROg_aM81Jqk2FYzAxGHuVCutJu-mxD4IPfvtuQrrZeHgR407kAXzB2kkmaxEDqLGwfY23D5PZD1pBw3emOmjLSOvmlaRFe2fht2PSHFRsdY5kyVYuV6NHm2XTqhme6TzAKA5GltfXe9h98WnL78w/w201-h200/Screenshot%202024-01-15%20at%205.33.57%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="201" /></a></div> The 1966 story shows a young mother at her wits' end. The story is told from the point of view of a pregnant female shopper who then tells the story to her husband. So many years later, the situation is still familiar the pressure of raising children in a culture that expects perfection with the almost insane expectations that a mother can do all that she's been assigned by the happenstance of her gender. The story is only about 8 pages long but portrays the mental health of a young mother, of actually both women in comparison. Although, the reader is concerned for the future of the narrator as she's realized all that she's going to be involved with when she becomes a mother. "I had proved myself after all, and someday they would ask me to join committees and protest groups and the PTA." Shirley's husband greets her with "What's the <i>matter</i> with you?" and the narrator's husband greets her with, "...but you can't mother the whole world."<div><div><p></p><p>The story is the title of the 2021 collection published by Bloomsbury Publishing. Most of the stories are from the 1960s and 1970s with a new one from 2020. This is such a great story I'm surprised I haven't run into it before in an anthology.</p><p><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p></div></div>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-40297027735361257462023-12-04T12:53:00.007-06:002024-01-13T13:14:44.763-06:00Lydia Davis, Our Strangers: Stories<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Kgkc_9uoc7dOOP9JJfysMMAV2TgY3sJn2MBdl3rJkYOKSS0JGh_lKLQtATNy1op1DdssifSyEB1Nckr_lgocVKR92AkIeFZw3F1n1VUiuBxwHt0uos7tjzgK_Hre4vIdoHnVSLWTLCobmW6GVbXFVPA-qb6suIAa0uYLTVgnHcM4GJ-Z2Rd6i8t3N-s/s1200/Lydia-Davis.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Kgkc_9uoc7dOOP9JJfysMMAV2TgY3sJn2MBdl3rJkYOKSS0JGh_lKLQtATNy1op1DdssifSyEB1Nckr_lgocVKR92AkIeFZw3F1n1VUiuBxwHt0uos7tjzgK_Hre4vIdoHnVSLWTLCobmW6GVbXFVPA-qb6suIAa0uYLTVgnHcM4GJ-Z2Rd6i8t3N-s/w212-h212/Lydia-Davis.heic" width="212" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sometimes after reading a Lydia Davis story from <i>Our Strangers</i><span>, I have to put the book down and take some deep breaths. She manages to explore the vastness of our humanity by scrutinizing the smallest details or actions.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Three stories chosen at random because I’m not going to comment on all hundreds of them. I think the blurb by Jonathan Franzen on the back cover says it best, “She is the shorter Proust among us. She has the sensitivity to track the stuff that is so evanescent it flies right by the rest of us.” And, yet it’s just that stuff that shows our human foibles.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“New Things in My Life” stopped me cold, dead, alive, afraid, thrilled. Then I cried.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Father Has Something to Tell Me” shows in seven sentences generational differences and fatherly control.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Hands on the Wheel” will make you laugh as will many others.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>Our Strangers</i> is not available on Amazon. It’s the first book published by <a href="https://bookshop.org/" target="_blank">Bookshop.org under the imprint Bookshop Editions.</a><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-88904098940639353722023-10-09T10:11:00.000-05:002023-10-09T10:11:01.227-05:00Guadalupe Nettel, Bezoar and Other Unsettling Stories<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoUGUs9n16tD9DTFMpF7vy2IJKUi8o2bj9HUjqPq1hm6DUHm79SjEhtdyAmEwaqnoaFNYN2Az049gEagzYrgaFSyAauJmBQX0GoFXS805ksohJBw8VCNC5RXCbFB3_AELU-TcgIdFL-MaCchF7NHjSs_uXcnmz5w1HYkVB2VpopDHG28K65TrHrrz32s/s1346/Screenshot%202023-10-09%20at%2010.02.35%E2%80%AFAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1346" data-original-width="1320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoUGUs9n16tD9DTFMpF7vy2IJKUi8o2bj9HUjqPq1hm6DUHm79SjEhtdyAmEwaqnoaFNYN2Az049gEagzYrgaFSyAauJmBQX0GoFXS805ksohJBw8VCNC5RXCbFB3_AELU-TcgIdFL-MaCchF7NHjSs_uXcnmz5w1HYkVB2VpopDHG28K65TrHrrz32s/s320/Screenshot%202023-10-09%20at%2010.02.35%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="314" /></a></div>The six stories in this collection reveal peoples' eccentricities via their physical attributes or compulsions. They can be seen as metaphors assisting understanding of those who behave away from what we term normal. The stories also show how walking alongside someone through a long life doesn't mean we understand each other but that we can still show empathy.<p></p><p>A guy calls himself an olfactorist and builds a woman through following his nose. A young woman seeks True Solitude. An eye surgeon and a photographer father have an impact on the daughter. A model only feels good while pulling out carefully selected hairs on her head and body. A husband decides he's a cactus and his wife an ivy. </p><p>Bezoar and Other Unsettling Stories, first completed in 2008, was published by Seven Stories Press in 2020. Translated from Spanish by Suzanne Jill Levine. <br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-14820493369159377422023-09-22T10:34:00.004-05:002023-09-22T10:34:46.609-05:00Daphne Kalotay, "Relativity"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBQzBREpmYO3yj_6uR2Lc7otIu_ZXVWB2uEyruhRx9BMMMICMTxTzhgx62mpS2VZ0IQ3clj5glFXhAsozFZIGd7IICp7KE8zS69d1zV2cPAOehEnL5CkXRvr2lqkNMIOpxVlqoDyR2GFs7AFwiOtpadPz5Vo8ectRrKiHFY4CpnLhHjZPRCQSdPI9SaQ/s1070/Screenshot%202023-09-22%20at%2010.32.48%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1070" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBQzBREpmYO3yj_6uR2Lc7otIu_ZXVWB2uEyruhRx9BMMMICMTxTzhgx62mpS2VZ0IQ3clj5glFXhAsozFZIGd7IICp7KE8zS69d1zV2cPAOehEnL5CkXRvr2lqkNMIOpxVlqoDyR2GFs7AFwiOtpadPz5Vo8ectRrKiHFY4CpnLhHjZPRCQSdPI9SaQ/s320/Screenshot%202023-09-22%20at%2010.32.48%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div> The first story in Daphne Kalotay's collection, <i>The Archivists</i>, covers ground from WWII to the present, not in an documentary way but via memories of Holocaust survivors and Robert who assists them with their final legal issues. Rozsa is ninety-nine and still full of bossiness, "Melon is on special. If they look good, buy two." He does as she requests all the while suffering some of his own painful experiences. The story weaves facets of life, death and suffering juxtaposed with hope and compassion, fragility and endurance. That being said, there are moments of humor. "Two dollars for grapefruit--<i>is criminal!</i>" Another theme is that much of our lives are our memories, yesterday's memories as well as those from distant past. <i>The Archivists</i> published in 2023 by TriQuarterly Press, a Northwestern University Press Imprint, won the Grace Paley Prize for Short Fiction. <p></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-44320274000036949832023-08-07T10:24:00.005-05:002023-09-18T14:11:00.104-05:00Maria Anderson, "Leaving" and Lauren Morrow, "Everyday Tips for Becoming a Star"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnjD_blyomy7lPDTz8cICXVXMItcxiSbbA8C-QqkN0mLkTsRKw8d_E7LfaMrZeS2NgDkAjOzAO3VqaKMN8xxwNuvBs_iaI78md2K-VXu-tWZ62hQqKjOYFr5KlEmiuV4cGq_COYqBplrVCH7EHrrz5INVqOogiiubI6w25k_76_J2D9klphgqCTRCe3o/s2659/IMG_1621.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2659" data-original-width="2659" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnjD_blyomy7lPDTz8cICXVXMItcxiSbbA8C-QqkN0mLkTsRKw8d_E7LfaMrZeS2NgDkAjOzAO3VqaKMN8xxwNuvBs_iaI78md2K-VXu-tWZ62hQqKjOYFr5KlEmiuV4cGq_COYqBplrVCH7EHrrz5INVqOogiiubI6w25k_76_J2D9klphgqCTRCe3o/w200-h200/IMG_1621.heic" width="200" /></a></div><br />These two stories from the summer 2022 issue of <i>Ploughshares </i>edited by Jamel Brinkley are my favorites. Leading off the collection is "Leaving." It will knock your socks off with the crystal understanding of people and their foibles, their struggles, their fears, their hurts. A sister has lost a sister and is about to lose a mother. A toddler is involved and although the reader might squint at what they believe is happening, the real outcome is surprising. A smart and caring solution. <p></p><p>One of my favorite lines: "My ribs I can hide but not my eye, and nobody gives money to somebody who looks like they've been fighting. All I want, apart from my little sister not to have had one of her seizures and drowned, is to wash off in a quiet spot." </p><p>Both of these stories have water and drowning as a motif, a horrid memory and fear and a trauma both characters will carry always.</p><p>"Everyday Tips for Becoming a Star" blends a dancer's audition for a cruise ship job with the horrors of the enslaved murderous drownings crossing the Atlantic in the 18th century. </p><p>I hesitate to share the ending of "Everyday Tips for Becoming a Star." But it's too great not to share and it's not really a spoiler. </p><p>"Though the tights are gone, I still feel their slicing, like a phantom pain, as I think about standing at the bow with my arms outstretched, about the West-Indian wind whipping my skin, my mouth filling slowly with salt water."<br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-90456980503781985522023-04-29T10:10:00.004-05:002023-04-29T10:11:01.639-05:00Katharina Volckmer, "House Party"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ21rJiaWeY_rK3HMgnPW9GD0FB88G30LY9PGxUn_TTZs6oLlqGgPSWMlbMAV7jcPPUJR84yQhc4Bvbxq3ap7X7QK6rhqrp_s4s3OYwLYCJz72HV6jDOvBIQ_5bumB8h-LkLqdTMAlN71RIRrieDzLF11-r30afVEkL5pRYVqXCigKWmqcYD2-yWx/s2692/IMG_1034.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2692" data-original-width="2692" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ21rJiaWeY_rK3HMgnPW9GD0FB88G30LY9PGxUn_TTZs6oLlqGgPSWMlbMAV7jcPPUJR84yQhc4Bvbxq3ap7X7QK6rhqrp_s4s3OYwLYCJz72HV6jDOvBIQ_5bumB8h-LkLqdTMAlN71RIRrieDzLF11-r30afVEkL5pRYVqXCigKWmqcYD2-yWx/s320/IMG_1034.heic" width="320" /></a></div> The first-person narrator finagled an invitation to a party of the person he'd (never quite sure of the gender of the narrator, as though it even matters) had an intense crush on. Then the story veers into mouth bacteria, broken hearts, obsessions, jealousy and how that colors a person's judgement as to their behavior. <p></p><p>The story gets nakedly close to a person's emotions, "I put some of your enamel-supporting toothpaste onto your brush and put it in my mouth. It was sweet like the toothpaste from my childhood when I would sometimes sneak into the bathroom to eat bits of it, and the creatures danced to the rhythm of my strokes, the foam growing until I finally feel close to you."</p><p>"House Party" is the opening story in the journal, <i>Astra: The International Magazine of Literature</i> issue on Ecstasy. It's the first issue and unfortunately only 2 issues were published. It's a shame that a journal that includes many translated works is no longer extant. <br /></p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-39439944285837763912023-04-24T13:18:00.003-05:002023-04-24T13:18:21.448-05:00Sara Solberg, "Sewer Girls"<p>In the spring 2023 issue of <i>The Pinch</i>, "Sewer Girls" reminds the reader that there are many different groups of people, in this story girls, who have a difficult time fitting into the so-called mainstream of society. It's only the "mainstream" because those in power have decided that. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitzpNqFaEBEIQ8uY6aH3ijaRFIa6sHPWL0yVY_TyD5KR26gQVVEhrlp1Ezht_fwcOth42HmI6y7Cdt-SWfwEDvpgWsuY8AZDiyJ-5vAoBqGjmxlahyQyIRyy9X8FFeyp_39kAVVd9DICGLYC71yuiFg9GpQzp8MHmz8E8sK-Yyv-zuIYKUvzFo37hA/s750/IMG-1014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitzpNqFaEBEIQ8uY6aH3ijaRFIa6sHPWL0yVY_TyD5KR26gQVVEhrlp1Ezht_fwcOth42HmI6y7Cdt-SWfwEDvpgWsuY8AZDiyJ-5vAoBqGjmxlahyQyIRyy9X8FFeyp_39kAVVd9DICGLYC71yuiFg9GpQzp8MHmz8E8sK-Yyv-zuIYKUvzFo37hA/s320/IMG-1014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The story is divided into nine sections, one of which explains the lives of sewer girls before they were sewer girls, "...they were children who played with Barbies and Easy-Bakes, tomboys who scraped their knees climbing trees."<p></p><p>Another section is about the narrator first meeting a sewer girl he didn't know was a sewer girl. "You just stared up at her like she was a sky full of stars, beautiful and untouchable." </p><p>The story is just three pages long but shares the life of those young women, either out of need or desire, who inhabit those underground infrastructures that most of us walk over oblivious. </p><p>Sara Solberg's story, "Sewer Girls," is included in the section devoted to neurodivergent fiction in volume 43, issue 1 of <i>The Pinch. <br /></i></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-23635234321436429322023-01-29T11:19:00.001-06:002023-01-29T11:19:08.008-06:00Caitlin Rae Taylor, "The Phenomenal Funeral Formula"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcHOYCRzK29-tjEJES5PAyLVW6MREunB-TOajdW59hKr_twCkoSmIxiSS9yuLatwyCQoTOufxOj0DTsVzabxoV8YI50gfFpLtemC93Kzh4GE6WhhY393q7s4CoxCXuUUm0nMjHkGbqSpxPrT1lqIZbGFY4GR1IQe9IfC38_5JgiEGDPPgZKn3_LdC/s1792/IMG_0559.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="1500" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcHOYCRzK29-tjEJES5PAyLVW6MREunB-TOajdW59hKr_twCkoSmIxiSS9yuLatwyCQoTOufxOj0DTsVzabxoV8YI50gfFpLtemC93Kzh4GE6WhhY393q7s4CoxCXuUUm0nMjHkGbqSpxPrT1lqIZbGFY4GR1IQe9IfC38_5JgiEGDPPgZKn3_LdC/w205-h245/IMG_0559.heic" width="205" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>The final story in <i>The Greensboro Review</i>, issue number 112, is by Caitlin Rae Taylor. Simultaneously funny and all to familiar to those who know or live with people stuck in strict routines. Routines to the detriment of family as well as self. Bruce is running a funeral home that has been passed down in the family. Bruce's grandfather devised a formula for holding funerals. This all seems to be fine until Martin and his sister are not convinced a formula is the way to go for their mother. One of the funniest lines is the first step in the formula. "Step One: Grieve--Cost: Free!"</p><p></p><p><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-23807306567724656452023-01-01T14:35:00.003-06:002023-01-01T14:36:47.942-06:00Orca: A Literary Journal, issue 12<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7nrzpSKmQLq9jIyHw3MX_oEKPte-Hcq1ZgVAigPdKoan63faQsthDBfVRZPHCPJpzTKvjITEN4Dkf1g4CrRq36pF-68qEE4j61yCg0wkZe_zpVBDWu4u9jqbPD5v9IRfqn-4x6Kf4nblt2BtZQjP3y144V9P1GocoQ5l4luAp5nAIuNHM7A053Im/s1690/Screenshot%202023-01-01%20at%202.34.06%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1690" data-original-width="1684" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ7nrzpSKmQLq9jIyHw3MX_oEKPte-Hcq1ZgVAigPdKoan63faQsthDBfVRZPHCPJpzTKvjITEN4Dkf1g4CrRq36pF-68qEE4j61yCg0wkZe_zpVBDWu4u9jqbPD5v9IRfqn-4x6Kf4nblt2BtZQjP3y144V9P1GocoQ5l4luAp5nAIuNHM7A053Im/s320/Screenshot%202023-01-01%20at%202.34.06%20PM.png" width="319" /></a></div><br />My favorite story from <a href="https://orcalit.com/" target="_blank">issue number 12 of Orca</a> is by Maria S. Picone entitled "Double Cleanser." A Korean stylist and podcaster doubles as an assassin. Two sides, beauty and ugliness of murder and jealousy. In just a few pages the story illuminates the complexity and duality we often embody for survival or pure economic gain in the name of survival. <p></p><p>Another favorite is "Angel" by Michele Suzann. In a little more than 2 pages and a seemingly insignificant, at first, theft, a person is hailed an angel after she's accidentally praised and has to face her true self. </p><p>Actually, every story in this issue is not only fantastic but exceedingly on point. They seem to exist without authors. Also, exciting is that all the writers are new to me. </p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-11200144480252871922022-11-10T15:07:00.004-06:002023-04-29T15:18:27.928-05:00Kim Fu, "Do You Remember Candy"<p> In "Do You Remember Candy" Kim Fu approaches a time when food is rare and for the younger people not even liked. Nutrients are gotten through vitamins. Allie "...awakens the memory of them (food)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMr6zfiW6yV3Mx2SGYNS2X_zn1_fbADApIjWFMykBgvIuDSiEoJQ3X_PyJnYqfOps1SpPkFxw8ULqIAMhM17S_0DAM5TWL0tKSPsjfniOBTY9xBs61l_YBQjq44dNHseWmLS8XAuTNo6ieNpSBoZiDKVG92wHAYQoZR0p8guu1JorXiv9S4W_8D2Q9/s1164/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-10%20at%203.02.27%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="1164" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMr6zfiW6yV3Mx2SGYNS2X_zn1_fbADApIjWFMykBgvIuDSiEoJQ3X_PyJnYqfOps1SpPkFxw8ULqIAMhM17S_0DAM5TWL0tKSPsjfniOBTY9xBs61l_YBQjq44dNHseWmLS8XAuTNo6ieNpSBoZiDKVG92wHAYQoZR0p8guu1JorXiv9S4W_8D2Q9/w283-h267/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-10%20at%203.02.27%20PM.png" width="283" /></a></div> and only in those who are primed for it..." as she sets up complex installations that trigger pleasant food memories for people. Allie realizes that her daughter can never understand because she's of a different generation as Allie's is the final one built upon sensuous pleasure. <div><br /></div><div>The story presents another type of scenario for the future with climate catastrophes and changing expectations as well as how quickly capitalism pounces on opportunities even negative ones yet also reveals our capacity and need for adapting. <br /><p></p><p>"Do You Remember Candy" is the final story in Fu's collection, <i>Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century </i>published by Tin House, Portland, OR, 2022. </p><p><br /></p></div>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-34778905503855974042022-10-09T12:49:00.003-05:002022-10-09T12:49:46.219-05:00Gunnhild Øyehaug, "Apples"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOJ2Bx5QKeMkGHUtaxkaRyLrTRDrzHWymlVzXjKA17NBZPrNxSSKfBX3iohQxLlRDjDZ8qekuWjltDj9zTi9xoBNjt0PWwdY3WNZneDvtc8ZsV1oc24FsAV0T_rJeqEjrnpJgbmmkSJIlpHFaGpqdi5mBju6Yxlvg4inzOCRpWSdEGUnrNEfRDTpH/s714/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-09%20at%2012.48.39%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="714" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOOJ2Bx5QKeMkGHUtaxkaRyLrTRDrzHWymlVzXjKA17NBZPrNxSSKfBX3iohQxLlRDjDZ8qekuWjltDj9zTi9xoBNjt0PWwdY3WNZneDvtc8ZsV1oc24FsAV0T_rJeqEjrnpJgbmmkSJIlpHFaGpqdi5mBju6Yxlvg4inzOCRpWSdEGUnrNEfRDTpH/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-09%20at%2012.48.39%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div> In the 2022 <i>The Best Stories: The O'Henry Prize Winners</i> is a story by Gunnhild Øyehaug. It's a metafiction story that is also a regular story. Somehow she melds themes of death, writing, raising a child to adulthood with special needs, nature, retirement, aging and the power of literature into a nine-page short story. It's divided into four sections which helps the structure. What's so amazing is how effortless it reads. So some kudos have to go to the translator, Kari Dickson. In the first section, it's not until the last line that you find out it's metafiction, "And I liked the way I had written this...." Throughout the rest of the story, the metafiction elements sneak up on the reader, sly but perfect. Also, each time you read it, you uncover more stories and possible tangents but Øyehaug stays on task brilliantly. <br /><p></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-47310545076663431422022-07-19T09:36:00.002-05:002022-07-19T09:38:27.063-05:00Meron Hadero, "The Drought that Drowned Us"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPUsuI_f0j2OcudAMi7nkswcOyRVVJ3UnsXEaq05S4gnaKNT18r2bEU2faZpRNwWWAveC2juQT8kFLW-4irhO3AhL-jKeBW1KKAqGf6pqux5i28b9roz60zMU-7jrvqk40PXD4A0OsomhTyRjaM25Ld8A73p4WYl9_n3wg6VrVvbsN7LXi7G8P42V/s2764/IMG_9758.heic" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="2764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPUsuI_f0j2OcudAMi7nkswcOyRVVJ3UnsXEaq05S4gnaKNT18r2bEU2faZpRNwWWAveC2juQT8kFLW-4irhO3AhL-jKeBW1KKAqGf6pqux5i28b9roz60zMU-7jrvqk40PXD4A0OsomhTyRjaM25Ld8A73p4WYl9_n3wg6VrVvbsN7LXi7G8P42V/s320/IMG_9758.heic" width="320" /></a></div> The story starts out with an implausible line that invites suspense and intrigue. "Deborah Azmera drowned in the drought." The story was first published in <i><a href="https://www.pshares.org/" target="_blank">Ploughshares</a></i> in 2020. At only about six pages, we are taken through the increasingly dangerous droughts plaguing the village that once sat next to a raging river. The villagers decide they have to leave and only north or west are safe as south and east are engaged in turbulent wars. In their pockets, they carried seeds from the last harvest in hopes they'd be able to plant them in their new home. However, "They passed fertile land that was fenced off from every angle, owned by foreign corporations growing crops for sale abroad." A man approaches them with food and water and empty promises. The story ends with Deborah naming, as was the custom of the village, this last drought, "the drought that drowned us all."<div><p></p><p><a href="http://www.meronhadero.com/" target="_blank">link to Meron Hadero's website</a></p><p><br /></p></div>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-17201778580771230622022-07-12T10:54:00.004-05:002022-07-12T10:57:08.774-05:00Joshua Mohr and Langston Hughes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0MYKYMo0KWbLGAPr7K2vBRNw6-OzcRwCF3-WnYTP8E66-hyZxUgGAob5IknhMyt0AsTh181o5ThVcsfMwGgRgQC6Cky679lBRpn6zH2OfkgSIhpjxx-HjvNt5TM44nvK9lf31Htdu5cANXDiH31srKSVbL5ewbEIEWQdYxUM4kQ1F5MjgPP9_To--/s2764/IMG-9752.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="2764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0MYKYMo0KWbLGAPr7K2vBRNw6-OzcRwCF3-WnYTP8E66-hyZxUgGAob5IknhMyt0AsTh181o5ThVcsfMwGgRgQC6Cky679lBRpn6zH2OfkgSIhpjxx-HjvNt5TM44nvK9lf31Htdu5cANXDiH31srKSVbL5ewbEIEWQdYxUM4kQ1F5MjgPP9_To--/s320/IMG-9752.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> A story from 2016 reminded me of a story published in the early 20th century. Joshua Mohr's story "Throwback Thursday" and Langston Hughes's "The Gun" both have themes about the psychological freedom from the extreme isolation they experience. Both stories show how a person might find knowing that at any time they had the ability to commit suicide alleviated some of their pain. Flora Belle's isolation was from racism and poverty and extreme working conditions. The narrator in Mohr's story was isolated from real interactions as his only social interaction, fake and false, was on the internet. He posted things only to see how many "likes" he was able to garner. As he uploaded pictures and links he thought, "...there is no way he'll post a pic of that gun in his hand." The experimental structure of the story follows the disjointed and staccato method of trolling the internet, posting items to obtain likes and attention, without one-to-one interactions. "The thing about the gun in his hand is he can hold it to his chest and still snap a shot of his face and post it..."<p></p><p>Flora Belle, a Black woman, not too pretty, the only Black girl in the small town in Montana, her mother "worked to death," eventually moved several times, worked very hard. In San Francisco, "She fell in love with a stevedore and used to give him her pay regularly...then she found out he was married already...and "He told her he didn't want her, anyway." She moved again and continued working extremely hard. One day she said, "I wish I could die," and then realized "Why not?" So she bought a pistol and bullets and that gun became her companion and "talked to it like a lover" with its power to end her suffering and loneliness. She became happier, stared attending church again, and even laughed with her employer's children. "As some people find assurance in the Bible or in alcohol, Flora Belle found assurance in the sure cold steel of the gun. She is still living alone over the white folks' garage in Fresno--but now she can go away anytime she wants to."</p><p>"Throwback Thursday" is in the Winter 2016, no. 108, issue of <a href="https://www.zyzzyva.org/" target="_blank">Zyzzyva</a> and "The Gun" is included in <a href="https://us.macmillan.com/series/hillandwangcriticalissues" target="_blank">Langston Hughes: Short Stories published by Hill and Wang, 1996</a>.<br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-92186649428482967342022-06-16T16:03:00.003-05:002022-06-16T16:03:36.996-05:00Tibor Noé Kiss, "Murder in the 17th District"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KHORLtv50KUhTMtb5Xdh5-pw51dQroZghfc_9b8fD_k7pADp9nlY-gIbXz_EpA0YlTxkr70tT-68rhK0BnotZlHcaGqHv5IMdsfQ37-VAfMyGAGUEKZgR4YLgVEU1gqaVpPTc7PqJPs-vqgKeWtFK7mQILtrZiCRAqqrjeJDqbLd4OMSuFGsmwVq/s1250/The%20Continental-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KHORLtv50KUhTMtb5Xdh5-pw51dQroZghfc_9b8fD_k7pADp9nlY-gIbXz_EpA0YlTxkr70tT-68rhK0BnotZlHcaGqHv5IMdsfQ37-VAfMyGAGUEKZgR4YLgVEU1gqaVpPTc7PqJPs-vqgKeWtFK7mQILtrZiCRAqqrjeJDqbLd4OMSuFGsmwVq/s320/The%20Continental-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> A woman walking in the snow two years after her mother's death contemplates her history, her mother's history, the general political and economic situation in Hungary. The story is structured so that the backstory is in the foreground, using italics for the present. The Old Guy, the mother's new boyfriend, supposedly has a lot of money hidden in his 3-story house. "We didn't know then that the Old Guy was murdered by a Transylvanian gang..." <p></p><p>"Murder in the 17th District" is included in the second issue of the new journal, <i><a href="https://continentalmagazine.com/" target="_blank">The Continental Literary Magazine</a></i>. This issue's theme is Crave. The focus is on Central European authors, specifically Hungarian. <br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-65533726278638446482022-06-11T14:21:00.007-05:002022-06-12T13:08:47.245-05:00Roger Reeves, "Ram in the Bush"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJqVi-J58jEREVldBU2YRfzFBLhLF8Ar_8U-zxoO4somzymFXjo1nc8SzhJ28yRmw0MfWuLi63AMiJmDyEYdpwOam1FsJ21hddXhsD64jrIpkdPZckMKxgEpnCzF_qY12H36v8og7LynZ2dB8WFy8ySBxzQZMB3vCAIMlPh6Ai8JI-QMrl8xa6Qh2/s682/ASF-75.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="682" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJqVi-J58jEREVldBU2YRfzFBLhLF8Ar_8U-zxoO4somzymFXjo1nc8SzhJ28yRmw0MfWuLi63AMiJmDyEYdpwOam1FsJ21hddXhsD64jrIpkdPZckMKxgEpnCzF_qY12H36v8og7LynZ2dB8WFy8ySBxzQZMB3vCAIMlPh6Ai8JI-QMrl8xa6Qh2/w266-h236/ASF-75.png" width="266" /></a></div>Heart wrenching story that illustrates the insidious ways of racism in issue 75 of <i><a href="https://americanshortfiction.org" target="_blank">American Short Fiction</a></i>. Elle has worked for thirty years cleaning Mr. and Mrs. Otises' house. Then they have the nerve to accuse her of stealing an emerald ring. I especially like the way Reeves weaves Elle's whole story into the few final moments of her work at their house. Also seamlessly woven into the story is the idea of white people usurping African cultural items and although Elle doesn't want to touch the mask, she grasps its power as she also knows and cherishes her own strength and power.<p></p><p>Favorite line: "Let it all vibrate through her. She wouldn't let Mrs. Otis rush her. She wasn't some little girl who didn't know her way around Mr. John's precious masks or how to get rid of a two-week old ring on a tub ... "</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-35395284829604746362022-06-01T11:29:00.004-05:002022-06-01T11:30:22.856-05:00"Tennessee," Corey Mertes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzY3djuxUSXOFwgtM-jnngYO93QkymPyFMLe6ByxhzGhYkzGfm-vuQoHPL7K4fCRLWaRUx1FIYen2PZYI_mJ0H131CEHMyQrW0SsUs34thh_YcTUkd6K1dr1GKqd9JeY90OI8pgG2AbalQ0_FLEL4MrDpvOuOSiucNpWtD02jADau7Of8GviKg0du/s976/Screen%20Shot%202022-06-01%20at%2011.27.48%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="976" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQzY3djuxUSXOFwgtM-jnngYO93QkymPyFMLe6ByxhzGhYkzGfm-vuQoHPL7K4fCRLWaRUx1FIYen2PZYI_mJ0H131CEHMyQrW0SsUs34thh_YcTUkd6K1dr1GKqd9JeY90OI8pgG2AbalQ0_FLEL4MrDpvOuOSiucNpWtD02jADau7Of8GviKg0du/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-06-01%20at%2011.27.48%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>In the recent <i><a href="https://www.westtradereview.com/" target="_blank">West Trade Review</a></i>, volume 13, spring 2022, Corey Mertes' story "Tennessee" tells the story of a man, an ex-movie director, now teacher, living with post-traumatic stress from World War II. The protagonist was injured in the Battle of Hürtgen Forest in 1944. Also get glimpses of the McCarthy era in Hollywood. What's so great about this story is that the reader is right there with the main character. Although written in third-person, it's very close. Told many decades later, we see the man's struggle and decline in "real-time" even as it's written in past tense. The story really lends itself to understanding what people actually experience with PTSD, not in a heart-jerk way but in reality.<p></p><p>Favorite lines:</p><p>"Without understanding why, he felt sure that the identity of this man held some deep, personal significance for him, and determining it would somehow result in a feeling of shed burdens, like the slow distancing of a ship from jetsam discarded at sea."</p><p>"No amount of frantic fiddling with the dial settled the radio on one wavelength."</p><p>"Hollywood in those days was a town where the men you laughed with on Tuesday at Musso & Frank's might deny by week's end that you were ever acquainted."</p><p><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-32517164452651276252022-04-29T14:21:00.007-05:002022-04-30T14:22:59.221-05:00Daniel Orozco, "Leave No Trace"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukYu1GS2gjnKnSgkvax7ZTa85gm31myW2GwbHPSxxgEwl_QZHmK-CK4-Ew_6zb2sK2Po3gbHIlhHsdCuXIUtxV0u4Rly6ofuq5rwaSw5V2nJh-q-y5m60OVeKrPM-jPA9lgP1IOa9vFh42Yzq37pH5DZCiN4v5HZJAvt8OohbKMfIPapUcNL_2Nie/s2478/IMG_9435.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2478" data-original-width="2246" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukYu1GS2gjnKnSgkvax7ZTa85gm31myW2GwbHPSxxgEwl_QZHmK-CK4-Ew_6zb2sK2Po3gbHIlhHsdCuXIUtxV0u4Rly6ofuq5rwaSw5V2nJh-q-y5m60OVeKrPM-jPA9lgP1IOa9vFh42Yzq37pH5DZCiN4v5HZJAvt8OohbKMfIPapUcNL_2Nie/s320/IMG_9435.heic" width="290" /></a></div> Lately I've been thinking about the odd bits and pieces of memory people you know and don't know might remember about you. Then, "Leave No Trace" is the next story I read in the 2022 Pushcart Prize Collection. It's a fabulous story about memory and about "leaving no trace" or the traces you do leave. Orozco builds a life for Rutger and then after his death, we see the myriad of folks who, for one reason or another, or no reason at all, recall something, usually infinitesimal, about Rutger. SPOILER ALERT: The story starts with Rutger's father explaining how "life is a slog" and turn your heart "into a fist of stone" and ends with a "Super Recognizer" woman remembering Rutger with fondness in his last minute of life, although she didn't know that. <br /><p></p><p>"Leave No Trace" was first published in Zoetrope: All Story. </p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-11898093771680793652022-03-09T13:00:00.004-06:002022-03-09T13:00:51.932-06:00Kyoko Nakajima, Things Remembered and Things Forgotten<p>Published in 2021 by <a href="https://sortof.co.uk/" target="_blank">Sort Of Books</a> and translated by Ian McCullough MacDonald and Ginny Tapley Takemori is this charming collection of ten short stories by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kyoko_Nakajima" target="_blank">Kyoko Nakajima</a>. They occupy that liminal space between this physical world and the spiritual. Ghosts frequently visit those who have survived and often in several personhoods. Relationships are clarified between several generations and we see the waning of ancestor worship. Time frames range from WWII to the present. The writing style is sincere, in the best way, and beckons you to Japan, then and now. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheBMxj5QXcaQx5bbLfn4wahTsi3wxJaoXjFR6CJmdCeeZ_97slZf2xq820UVgM8EwJYloGzyLccUvdhFDEYAyyhPCPOl12ulaRJ_1BQTLOfoUVAHkeUOROMfChuQ7mn-4zlDRDiQ7kkAe7O9oBuiigUu5IIszRBpc7bg2wKAyCSD6xHiWablFkA-CM=s1800" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheBMxj5QXcaQx5bbLfn4wahTsi3wxJaoXjFR6CJmdCeeZ_97slZf2xq820UVgM8EwJYloGzyLccUvdhFDEYAyyhPCPOl12ulaRJ_1BQTLOfoUVAHkeUOROMfChuQ7mn-4zlDRDiQ7kkAe7O9oBuiigUu5IIszRBpc7bg2wKAyCSD6xHiWablFkA-CM=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Some lines:</p><p>From "Things Remembered and Things Forgotten"</p><p>"Takashi, who was eight, and Masaru, who was three, had heard that there were lots of American GIs there who handed out chocolates and chewing gum to children."</p><p>From "The Harajuku House"</p><p>"Either I was in somebody's dream, or I went to a parallel world with a portal in daily life.""</p><p>From "The Last Obon"</p><p>"Satsuki began to fret, recalling Yohei's story of the little girl--the niece she had never known--who drowned there."</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-49030852017628559612021-12-23T20:28:00.005-06:002021-12-23T20:28:51.216-06:00Glen Pourciau, Getaway<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUY2hFv8YPU-hVdjHSOQo2TtpZNDzwsBXmrlbvmtN4PFQNffJxrV7jzYw0TDMkUE4q81QyalqbghTdj0gr09IXtHkQgDRMTLG_4Ds_hZukLBPQWnAq6f64NxQpH0uk1fOuIed4D1Q6szHT06To0n8sXqIWu-q42Dx4eqZZSCo1tRbUhUzQcUxdv2vC=s1788" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1788" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUY2hFv8YPU-hVdjHSOQo2TtpZNDzwsBXmrlbvmtN4PFQNffJxrV7jzYw0TDMkUE4q81QyalqbghTdj0gr09IXtHkQgDRMTLG_4Ds_hZukLBPQWnAq6f64NxQpH0uk1fOuIed4D1Q6szHT06To0n8sXqIWu-q42Dx4eqZZSCo1tRbUhUzQcUxdv2vC=s320" width="268" /></a></div>Pourciau's new collection, <i>Getaway</i>, is excruciatingly pointed at peoples' psychological foibles. We are in all the stories to some extent or we all know these people. We and they go to great lengths to deny inconsistencies and hypocrisies. I'm amazed how the author is so keenly capable of drilling down with precision illustrating the way people manipulate and mold themselves in their own minds as well as what they assume and demand of others. <p></p><p>Most of the stories are in first-person point of view. There's little sense of setting, and few if any, sensorial descriptions. Instead, Pourciau is hell-bent on observing people and exposing peoples' motives towards others, often in support their own false self-aggrandizement.</p><p><i>Getaway</i> consists of 19 short stories and was published this year by <a href="https://fourwaybooks.com/site/" target="_blank">Four Way Books</a>. </p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-40679112071437831762021-12-06T11:11:00.005-06:002021-12-06T11:14:45.346-06:00Hao, Ye Chun<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QA5G3I6cr4w/Ya5EJFupJ0I/AAAAAAAAF7w/d4_jfkloBUMVjlj4WD0QnMO_eLyHxriRgCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Hao-Ye%2BChun.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QA5G3I6cr4w/Ya5EJFupJ0I/AAAAAAAAF7w/d4_jfkloBUMVjlj4WD0QnMO_eLyHxriRgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/Hao-Ye%2BChun.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>This beautifully designed book by <a href="https://www.yechunauthor.com/" target="_blank">Ye Chun</a> is contemplative, sometimes disturbing, and thought invoking. Delicate sentences, poetic, often denote violence, hunger, and fear. From "A Drawer," "She goes home on her small feet that she knows cannot be stretched back to their natural size." From "Milk," "He has become a splinter the city is about to push out of its inflated flesh." <p></p><p>While telling stories that date from third century BCE to the Chinese Cultural Revolution and beyond, Ye Chun reminds us that it's language, words, ideograms, etc that connect us or fail to connect us. From "Crazy English," "The floor wobbles beneath her, the air buzzes, and Yun suddenly realizes there is something she hasn't yet said to the man--the word <i>no</i>. Such an easy syllable to pronounce. So unmistakable it must sound. 'No,' she summons her strength and says to the stalker, while knowing how ineffectual it can be." <br /></p><p>Published by <a href="https://books.catapult.co/" target="_blank">Catapult</a>. </p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-27424374867803250412021-11-29T16:17:00.004-06:002021-11-29T16:17:46.723-06:00Morgan Thomas, "Manywhere"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KJaXPoWX1Fw/YaVRd0eYavI/AAAAAAAAF7E/N4qaKCBk3KM1dFsGdsg-z3zfX5kl2M6EwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1202/Kenyon%2BReview.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1202" data-original-width="1187" height="278" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KJaXPoWX1Fw/YaVRd0eYavI/AAAAAAAAF7E/N4qaKCBk3KM1dFsGdsg-z3zfX5kl2M6EwCNcBGAsYHQ/w275-h278/Kenyon%2BReview.png" width="275" /></a></div> This first-person POV short story tells the complicated double-life of a trans person in an unforgiving and rigid world. His father won't accept him and insists she's a woman with a husband and child. He displays photographs where his "daughter" is seen with a child and a man, a cousin and a co-worker. Walking is a trope to illustrate the wanting to leave but inability to leave. The father walks in circles in the kitchen but plots his far away "travels" on an atlas. Eventually the narrator splits herself and "lives" as a woman for her father and yet leaves. A very complex story open to interpretation. <p></p><p>"Manywhere" is in the Nov/Dec 2021 issue of <a href="https://kenyonreview.org/" target="_blank">Kenyon Review</a>. <a href="https://morganhthomas.com/" target="_blank">Morgan Thomas's website link.</a> <br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-38852838153655855132021-11-15T09:13:00.005-06:002021-11-15T09:14:18.344-06:00"A Conversation with Helon Habila" by Chikodi Adeola Olasode in The Writer's Chronicle<p> A couple of Habila's comments that struck me as especially important. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCiDuPVGSx4cCrK-x544wY1AkXXmIY7dDwLWaA5yVY-H7p7zGCzJR5Fqu9GumVQF0y3GvRucgpxdld4vxgawbKddB0sbB9YHecVsFuZSuBFIejRQxX6pKQXR9BCAxeXFgC361DK7rRAQ/s2048/WC.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2038" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCiDuPVGSx4cCrK-x544wY1AkXXmIY7dDwLWaA5yVY-H7p7zGCzJR5Fqu9GumVQF0y3GvRucgpxdld4vxgawbKddB0sbB9YHecVsFuZSuBFIejRQxX6pKQXR9BCAxeXFgC361DK7rRAQ/w302-h300/WC.heic" width="302" /></a></div>"As an artist you don't have to have experienced a thing to empathize. It is what you do, it is your superpower, your blessing and your curse at the same time. You cannot avert your gaze from suffering or from injustice. It reminds me of the character, Olana, in Octavia Butler's <i>Parable of the Sower</i>, who has a genetic condition that makes her suffer when others are in pain--the artist experiences the pain and the suffering of others by proxy. That is what makes you an artist."<p></p><p>"And to be honest, whether we admit it or not, we all advocate for certain values in our art. As George Orwell said, all art is propaganda, and even those who say art should be apolitical are being political in making that comment."</p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-15171882456546069722021-10-25T15:12:00.002-05:002021-12-01T12:15:34.699-06:00Percival Everett, "The Fix"<p> "The Fix," a parable of sorts, was published in 2004 in Everett's collection <i>Damned If I Do</i> by <a href="https://www.graywolfpress.org/" target="_blank">Graywolf Press</a>. What starts out as a man offering to repair things, then people asking him to repair things, then they want relationships repaired, etc. turns into a burden and gets Sherman beaten up because he finally says no. "If you irrigate a desert, you might empty a sea. It's a complicated business, fixing things."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rs8oc781vrI/YXcPfvMfBUI/AAAAAAAAF5E/UGpc5XvvZLI8UhweBOM3J2U-sHyN7GLZgCNcBGAsYHQ/s1200/IMG_8942.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rs8oc781vrI/YXcPfvMfBUI/AAAAAAAAF5E/UGpc5XvvZLI8UhweBOM3J2U-sHyN7GLZgCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8942.heic" width="320" /></a></div>The story begins with a man saving another. A sandwich shop owner sees Sherman getting beaten and rescues him. The man repays him by repairing minor machines around the sandwich shop. It quickly blossoms into much more. Open-ended conclusion leaves the reader wondering or worrying if Sherman will really jump from the bridge as people yell at him, "Fix us! Fix us!"<p></p><p>What I enjoyed about this story is the straightforward style of telling a story while explaining, showing, how complicated humanity is and that looking for someone to fix someone else is indeed only the beginning of a long chain of events, consequences, and choices.</p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percival_Everett" target="_blank">Percival Everett has won many awards, published many books and is a </a> Distinguished Professor of English at the University of Southern California. </p><br /><p><br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5234100872959362978.post-56260161202617423732021-08-11T14:54:00.005-05:002021-08-11T15:43:30.652-05:00Jordi Nopca, "Cinéma d'Auteur"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y6jrVdM0f6Q/YRQq02aDQEI/AAAAAAAAF1I/dDMQgGY1DfonrxeK0Se6wXsg9Lphw-Z0wCNcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-8725.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1666" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y6jrVdM0f6Q/YRQq02aDQEI/AAAAAAAAF1I/dDMQgGY1DfonrxeK0Se6wXsg9Lphw-Z0wCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG-8725.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>Included in Nopca's collection <i>Come On Up</i> is "Cinéma d'Auteur" in which young, just started college age, friends consider actually dating. They already do many things together but the young man isn't certain whether or not he should test out other girls' kissing abilities. They discuss movies, the directors and what constitutes an action movie. They also have different tastes in music. The funny part of the story is that most of it takes place in a unisex bathroom at the movie theatre as Joan listens for sounds he hopes he won't hear. <p></p><p>Overall, the stories in the collection portray the sense of disillusionment with the government that plagues a lot of the world in the twenty-first century. Yet, there is humor in the creativity for survival of the human spirit, both good and bad.</p><p>A large portion of the collection is written in an omniscient point of view. Jordi Nopca is a journalist in Barcelona. <i>Come On Up</i> is translated from the Catalan into English by Mara Faye Lethem and published by <a href="https://blpress.org/books/come-on-up/" target="_blank">Bellevue Literary Press</a>. <br /></p>Ann Grahamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08257054651903250806noreply@blogger.com