The Best American Short Stories 1993 is a collection of 20 stories selected by guest editor Louise Erdrich. This selection has big names such as John Updike, Mary Gaitskill, Alice Monro, and Mary Gordon. Many of these stories I enjoyed such as ‘Playing with Dynamite’ by John Updike which describes the marriage and infidelity of an old man, ‘The Girl on the Plane’ by Mary Gaitskill about a man who recalls being part of a gang rape after seeing a stranger on a plane, ‘The Man Who Rowed Christopher Columbus Ashore’ by Harlan Ellison about a man who is part of surreal moments in history and it takes up an interesting structure, ‘Poltergeists’ by Jane Shapiro about a mother trying to care for her teenagers who are always partying, ‘Red Moccasins’ by Susan Powers about a Native American family who lose a young child, ‘Pray Without Ceasing’ by Wendell Berry about a grandfather who is shot by his friend, and ‘Gold’ by Kim Edwards about a nugget of gold found in Malaysia.
This collection had some amazing pieces, and pieces that I’m not sure why they work. For example, the final story of the collection ‘The Important Houses’ by Mary Gordon begins and stays almost too long in describing the features and events that happened in the narrator’s grandmother’s house. There is a lot of backstory and discussions of relationships that seem fairly sprawled out, and it’s only in the last two pages where I felt there was reason to tell the story: the father died when the narrator was younger. It is unexpected but makes sense and many of the relationships/descriptions come back in the last moments to make the narrative work, though I’m still perplexed. The story, I think, also has one of the best lines in the collection, in which it preempts the reader with the father’s death. It goes, “There is a sound of disaster, and a quiet after it, when the universe becomes still with shock; the wind stops, the light is colorless, and humans have no words, because no words fit the enormity.” It’s a sprawling, intricate sentence that really made me realize how effortless it seems for Gordon to transition from the grandmother’s house and its happenings to something deeply entangled in the narrator. Though there were other stories, such as ‘Terrific Mother’ by Lorrie Moore which had a twinge of Orientalism in moments such as this, “’Dishonored?’ So Japanese. Adrienne like the sound of it.”. Or “She sighed. ‘Then I shall sing to you. Mood music.’ She made up a romantic, Asian sounding tune and danced around the room with her cigarette, in a floating, wing-limbed way. ‘This is my Hopi dance,’ she said. ‘So full of hope.’” These are moments that made me question Moore’s intent. Because why would you take a very stereotypical aspect of Japanese culture and use it as a prop? Or still, the second quote feels even more icky in that not only does it otherize Asian cultures (let alone sticking them together and mentioning “Asian sounding”, what the heck does that even mean—there’s no monolithic “Asian sounding” music), but it displays it in a grotesque and characterized way. Why name it a “Hopi dance”? Why make something seem ‘exotic’? And while yes, the narrator is intentionally grating, these moments feel off. However, overall, I found the collection to be a decent read. Final Rating: 3.5/5
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They Came Like Swallows by William Maxwell is a book about an Illinois family living through the time of the Spanish Flu. It follows the lives and happenings of two sons, Bunny and Robert, the father, James, and the mother, Elizabeth. Early on, all the characters gravitate toward Elizabeth as the glue that holds their house together. Bunny is young enough to have an innocent love toward her, Robert sees her as someone to protect, and James doesn’t see a life without her. The story follows the boys initially as their schools are let out due to the epidemic. Bunny listens in to James reading the news, tries playing with some of James’s toys, and at one point is saved by his brother when other kids are beating him up. Bunny then becomes sick with the flu, where he is cared for by his mother and Irene. He gets better, but it takes him a while and there is a scene where Robert offers to show Bunny his figurines but doesn’t let him play with them (which I thought worked well in showing the dynamic between the two). Elizabeth is expecting a child, so her and James rush off to another town with a doctor who, it’s hinted at will most likely perform a C-section. As they are having the child, Bunny and Robert are taken to their aunt’s house where Robert gets sick, and Robert and Bunny fight about playing with each other’s toys. Finally, after having the child, Elizabeth comes down with the flu, and eventually dies from pneumonia. James returns to their home and is utterly broken. The news is broken to the children and somehow James must find a way to continue caring for Bunny, Robert, and now a new baby. Near the end, James compilates selling everything, giving the boys to the aunt, and leaving. However, as a ray of hope, Irene suggests she could help care for the children and be there for James. The novel ends with James and Robert both looking at Elizabeth’s body in the casket, where James asks Robert, “’You won’t forget your mother, will you…’”.
In addition to this main plot, there is also a minor plot that unravels once it’s revealed that Robert lost a leg years before and now, he wears a prosthetic. He lost it when he was riding along on Boyd’s car, Irene’s husband, fell off, and his leg was run over. There is a tension between James, Boyd, and Irene that is finally reflected upon when James says that Elizabeth never forgot about that incident. The story is broken into three parts, the first of which follows Bunny, the youngest child. Then it breaks off following Robert up until he hears that his mother has died. And the last part is focused on James and how he is dealing with his wife’s death. It’s an interesting progression to have the narrative follow each character, as if to show they slowly lose their innocence and must mask their emotions. It was a sad novel, but I thought the relationship between Robert and Bunny were authentic and at times humorous. Final Rating: 3.5/5 A Captain’s Duty by Richard Phillips is an account of his harrowing story off the shore of Somalia where his cargo ship was captured by pirates, and he was taken hostage in a lifeboat in 2009. The book goes through Captain Phillips’ actions to prepare for an attack, what he did to keep his crew safe, and how he survived. The tension between the pirates and Captain Phillips is palpable as he accounts the mock executions, the humiliation, and his crews’ actions. It was interesting to read his account because I remembered the event in the news. Though, the book revealed specific actions he’d done to keep his crew safe on the Maersk Alabama by running drills, building repertoire with the pirates, and alerting his crew over the radio. There were so many things that he’d done right, but it was interesting for him to recount and focus on the mistakes he made. And while the book’s style/content wasn’t particularly one I usually read, I still found it held up. Overall, I enjoyed the depth with which it went into Captain Phillip’s mindset and his perseverance.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 The Kenyon Review Winter 2023 features short stories, essays, poetry, and visual art, with a folio focusing on bridges and how people/connections/moments can be bridges for other things. This issue has a few fascinating stories, one of which is called ‘Block Party’, by Danny Lang-Perez, which features a magical man who can cook/make anything from his mobile kitchen and his son, Charles, who people adore. When Charles doesn’t appear one night because his mother asked him not to help, the neighborhood goes crazy, throwing things at the man and running him out of their cul-de-sac. It’s an interesting way to look at how the entitled treat workers, and what happens when things don’t go their way. I also enjoyed the language in ‘Eight Poems’ by Abbas Kiarostami and ‘The Orphanage’ by Emeline Atwood. Though, everything else felt a little lackluster.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 BeHere/1942 by Masaki Fujihata is a book describing an exhibit put on by the Japanese artist Masaki Fujihata, which documents and explores the Japanese American Internment Camps. The book seems to be paired with an art exhibit featuring 3D renderings of famous photographs taken as Japanese Americans were forced to leave their homes. In one instance in the book, Fujihata zooms in on the eyes of famous photographs to show how the observer (the photographer) is reflected in the eyes of the observed (the Japanese American). The book is broken up into three parts, first describing Fujihata’s project and process, second discussing the history of the internment camps, and third focusing on Fujihata himself. The book, and Fujihata’s vision, is to think about how the observer/photographer/government wanted to represent and positively spin the incarcerations. There were some striking, and deeply emotional photographs and it was interesting to learn about the exhibit even though I wasn’t able to see it.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 The Best American Poetry 2022 is a selection of poetry guest edited by Matthew Zapruder with poems from Ada Límon, Ocean Vuong, Louise Glück, and Diane Seuss, among others. Most, if not all the poems, featured meditations on the affect of the pandemic, the loneliness/isolation it brought, and how daily life was interpreted. There were poems, such as ‘Goblin’ by Matthew Dickman, which showed how thin the line between care and abuse is and what that power meant to the speaker. And in this way, Dickman, upon saying, “There are so many ways/to eat the young.” recognizes and fears how his actions can change his child’s view of him. Or take Robin Myers’s poem, ‘Diego de Montemayor’, which finds Myers at a weird crossroads, knowing their ancestor oversaw a massacre, and still recognizing that ancestor as a part of their family. And, of course, how can I not forget Ocean Vuong’s, ‘Reason for Staying’, with the immaculate line, “Because my uncle never killed himself—but simply died, on purpose.” There were certainly high points, but after reading the bios, the writers did seem homogonous in their backgrounds, from which I would’ve liked to see more diversity.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 On Writing by Stephen King is a book that’s part memoir and part a discussion on the craft of fiction. King goes about describing how he came to be a writer, what he thinks exists in good writing, and how became a better writer. I enjoyed his matter-of-fact tone and the way he approaches his craft. I specifically connected with the idea that the story is a fossil the writer excavates. And while I didn’t read this book before I wrote my piece in CRAFT, my author’s note rings eerily like his, “Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world.” I like this idea, and it’s reaffirming to know he treats his stories the same. I also enjoyed the glimpses into his life where I saw parallels to my own writing journey.
Though, as with any writing advice, I’d be hesitant to take everything he says as the ultimate truth. I agree story is the most important part of fiction and character’s actions/situations drive the narrative. I also agree one most read a lot and write a lot to become better. However, I’m a little more hesitant to take his advice on writing a thousand words every day or the specifics of his craft. To me, it seems much of his advice is prescriptive, and without it, one isn’t being a proper writer. His authoritative voice is convincing but doesn’t apply to everyone. I’m also not sure of his idea that competent writers can only become good writers, or you can’t become a great writer if you’re a good writer. To someone just starting the craft, this seems demoralizing and assumes people can’t fundamentally change. Overall, I’ll be taking a few nuggets of wisdom from King, but I’ll be leaving everything else. Overall Rating: 3.5/5 The Kenyon Review July/Aug 2022 is a collection of poetry, non-fiction, and short stories, with a folio focusing on mothers reflecting on the climate crisis. There is anger and grief in the issue, which bleeds through its non-fiction, particularly in ‘To Live Again’ by Aliyeh Ateaei translated by Salar Abdoh. The story is about a mother trying to teach her son about her home in Afghanistan and why they had to flee to Iran. I absolutely loved the way the language held so much weight and how she treats her son with tenderness. And one of its final lines aches with meaning as her son says, ‘”Next time I’ll try to be born as oil”’. I was also a fan of the short story ‘Still Life with Lobster’ by Timothy Reynolds with its sharp use of imagery. Overall, I enjoyed the pressing discussions of climate change, but couldn’t quite connect with the poetry.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 Musui’s Story by Katsu Kokichi is an autobiography of a samurai during the 1800’s, which follows a man in his adventures, poverty, and old age. It’s an interesting piece of Japanese history, which focuses on the lesser-known aspects of a samurai’s life. For Katsu Kokichi, his account of his life seems to be boastful, and at times exaggerated when he talks about his fights with other warriors, or how he escaped from his incurred debts. Though, what is interesting is that he is consumed with discussing his money problems while trying to explain his misdeeds. It was interesting to see how relationships, ceremonies, and the societal structure all affected each other at that time. It's an account of a seemingly lower rung samurai, and because of this, its language is sometimes brash, but straightforward.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 The Paris Review Issue 240 is a collection of poetry, prose, and interviews with many of the short stories focusing on queer life. I particularly enjoyed the story ‘Descent’ by Harriet Clark which is about a boy whose mother is in a prison on a mountain for being a getaway driver. I liked the way the son’s relationship between his mother and grandmother begins to fray. I also enjoyed the story ‘Ira & The Whale’ by Rachel B. Glaser, which is about a gay man who is slowly dying in the stomach of a whale. It uses the initial premise of the Noah and The Whale narrative but spins it in a modern and enjoyable way. And finally, I found the heartbreaking nonfiction piece ‘About Ed’ by Robert Glück to have immense depth. Though, the rest of the issue didn’t feel as strong as those three narratives.
Final Rating: 3.5/5 |
AuthorMaxwell Suzuki is a writer, poet, and photographer based in Los Angeles. Archives
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