August 2014 – Short Story Magic Tricks

August 2014 favorites

August 2014

The August stories ordered solely on my personal tastes.

August 31, 2014September 19, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: FavoritesTags: A.E. Coppard, Anibal Monteiro Machado, D.H. Lawrence, Donald Barthelme, E.B. White, Elizabeth Bowen, Ernest Hemingway, Franz Kafka, Isaac Babel, Ivo Andric, James Salter, James Thurber, John Steinbeck, Katherine Anne Porter, Katherine Mansfield, Kay Boyle, Lovell Thompson, Nathan Englander, Pietro di Donato, Richard Bausch, Richard Wright, Sean O'Faolain, Tobias Wolff, V.S. Pritchett, Vladimir Nabokov Leave a comment

‘First Love’ by Vladimir Nabokov

First Love by Vladimir Nabokov, 1948

The magic trick:

Using the story title to alter the reader’s interpretation

The words first love likely conjure up images of a momentous childhood relationship, one that ends quickly but whose innocence lingers on into adulthood. Or something like that.

And this story delivers something quite like that. The narrator indulges in a lovely nostalgia trip and remembers a summer bond he forged at the age of 10 with a girl named Colette. She kisses him on the cheek. He promises to run away with her. It’s all just what you’d expect from a story titled “First Love.”

One problem, though: I don’t believe the narrator’s relationship with Colette is the first love of the title at all. Nabokov separates the story into three sections. He makes no mention of Colette until section three. The first two are filled with detail after detail of the narrator’s summer memories, the beaches, the trains, everything.

The title toys with the reader’s expectations, and then helps to refocus the reader on the story’s central theme. Colette, in section three, comes to represent everything the narrator feels for his childhood vacations – the special joys, the education, the adventure the innocence, and the failed escape. And that’s quite a trick on Nabokov’s part.

The selection:

When, on such journeys as these, the train changed its pace to a dignified amble and all but grazed housefronts and shop signs, as we passed through some big German town, I used to feel a twofold excitement, which terminal stations could not provide. I saw a city, with its toylike trams, linden trees, and brick walls enter the compartment, hobnob with the mirrors, and fill to the brim the windows on the corridor side. This informal contact between train and city was one part of the thrill. The other was putting myself in the place of some passerby who, I imagined, was moved as I would be moved myself to see the long, romantic, auburn cars, with their intervestibular connecting curtains as black as bat wings and their metal lettering copper-bright in the low sun, unhurriedly negotiate an iron bridge across an everyday thoroughfare and then turn, with the windows suddenly ablaze, around a last block of houses.

August 31, 2014July 15, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1940s, analysis, criticism, fiction, First Love, Russian lit, Russian literature, short stories, Vladimir Nabokov Leave a comment

‘Men’ by Kay Boyle

Men by Kay Boyle, 1941

The magic trick:

The use of the house as representing the soldier’s dreams of home

We have a very simple magic trick today. I like it, though. The prisoners in the story are forced to build a railroad all day everyday. Their progress brings them closer to a small house near the rail line, and they each adore looking at it. The house becomes a symbol of their pasts, their families, and their longing to go back to their homes.

Boyle doesn’t get fancy with this symbol. It’s not even written as a symbol for the reader to interpret. The characters, within the story, recognize the house as a symbol. No analysis needed. Many critics praise writing that gives the reader room for analysis and interpretation. I’ve heaped such praise on authors myself on this very website (see recent example, “The Chrysanthemums”). “Men” reminds us, though, that the reader isn’t the only smart guy in the room. Sometimes symbolism can work on a whole different level when the characters in the story identify their own symbols. And that’s quite a trick on Boyle’s part.

The selection:

But if the Baron looked now and again at the mountain, the other men had had enough of scenery: it was the house they liked to look toward down the road. The seven months they had spent in internment had altered their eyesight for them so that the little house appeared singularly sweet and touching to them; it had a homely, nearly familiar look to them all as if they had seen it somewhere before in another country.

August 30, 2014July 16, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1940s, American lit, American literature, analysis, criticism, fiction, Kay Boyle, Men, short stories Leave a comment

‘The Camberwell Beauty’ by V.S. Pritchett

The Camberwell Beauty by V.S. Pritchett, 1974

The magic trick:

Combining setting with concept and metaphor

“The Camberwell Beauty” takes the reader into England’s high-end antique trade, but it soon becomes clear Pritchett did not pick this setting and scene simply because he likes antiques. The whole story begins to work as a metaphor as the narrator falls in love with Isabel. His desire to find and possess her is exactly the same as the desire felt by antique dealers for certain objects and collections. She exists as a quest, a prized accomplishment, more than she does as an actual human being. As a result, the story, previously a fairly drab character study amidst the unscrupulous antiquing industry, becomes an interesting consideration on possessive love. And that’s quite a trick on Pritchett’s part.

The selection:

The moral is this: if “The Burning of Cranmer” was August’s treasure, it was hopeless to try and get it before he had time to guess what mine was. It was clear to him that I was too new to the trade to have one.

August 29, 2014July 31, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1970s, analysis, British lit, British literature, criticism, English lit, English literature, fiction, London, short stories, The Camberwell Beauty, V.S. Pritchett Leave a comment

‘The Killers’ by Ernest Hemingway

The Killers by Ernest Hemingway, 1927

The magic trick:

Turning a would-be pulp action story into a thoughtful, coming-of-age piece

The story opens as a high-suspense, mob-hit drama. Halfway through, it becomes clear that, in spite of the title, “The Killers” is not about the hitmen; it’s about Nick Adams. The character features in several Hemingway stories. In this one, he has a coming-of-age moment as he tries to understand, first, that someone wants to kill an old boxer who lives in town, and, then even more perplexingly, that the boxer has no energy left to avoid the hit. Hemingway plays on the same themes as in his early gem, “My Old Man;” though if you’re asking me, “The Killers” is the lesser of the two.

That said, this is a great story. It pairs the visceral pleasures of a pulp thriller with the artistic touch that we shall call, lacking a better word, literary. And that’s quite a trick on Hemingway’s part.

The selection:

“Couldn’t you get out of town?”

“No,” Ole Andreson said. “I’m through with all that running around.”

He looked at the wall.

“There ain’t anything to do now.”

“Couldn’t you fix it up some way?”

“No. I got in wrong.” He talked in the same flat voice. There ain’t anything to do.”

READ THIS STORY ONLINE

August 28, 2014July 11, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1920s, American lit, American literature, analysis, criticism, Ernest Hemingway, fiction, short stories, The Killers Leave a comment

‘Christ In Concrete’ by Pietro di Donato

Christ In Concrete by Pietro di Donato, 1938

The magic trick:

Painfully descriptive writing about the construction accident

The Christian symbols and metaphors in the story are laid on a bit thick for my tastes. Those, to be sure, are the showcase literary motif at play here. What I want to talk about instead is the writing in the final section of the story, the description of the construction accident. These scenes are drawn in remarkable detail, and it’s emotional detail too. Di Donato takes the reader into the minds of various construction workers during their horrifying final moments as the building collapses. He does not hold back. Many of the images are incredibly gruesome, which only adds to the power of his psychological descriptions.

Di Donato’s real-life father was killed in such an accident, so without doubt this material is close to the author’s heart. The quality and passion he pours into the building-collapse section of the story certainly betray that connection. And that’s quite a trick on di Donato’s part.

The selection:

He paused exhausted. His genitals convulsed. The cold steel rod upon which they were impaled froze his spine. He shouted louder and louder. “Save me! I am hurt badly! I can be saved, I can – save me before it’s too late!” But the cries went no farther than his own ears. The icy wet concrete reached his chin. His heart was appalled. “In a few seconds I shall be entombed. If I can only breathe, they will reach me. Surely they will!” His face was quickly covered, its flesh yielding to the solid, sharp-cut stones. “Air! Air!” screamed his lungs as he was completely sealed.

August 27, 2014July 31, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1930s, American lit, American literature, analysis, Christ In Concrete, criticism, fiction, New York City, Pietro di Donato, short stories Leave a comment

‘Lovers Of The Lake’ by Sean O’Faolain

Lovers Of The Lake by Sean O’Faolain, 1957

The magic trick:

Using the island retreat as a setting to expand the story’s meaning

In many ways, this story’s foundation is a standard-issue messy love triangle. A woman is approaching middle age and finds herself dissatisfied by both her marriage and her long-term affair. Nothing particularly original there.

What sets this story apart is its setting. O’Faolain sends his protagonists to a three-day religious retreat on an island, complete with fasting and prayer chants. This allows him to throw all kinds of new elements into the mix – not the least of which is religion, the faith vs. flesh debate, and an array of memorable images and metaphors.

The story takes on a dreamlike quality, and the ambiguous ending leaves the reader lost in the Irish mists, trying to figure out what it all means. And that’s quite a trick on O’Faolain’s part.

The selection:

She saw him twice before the dusk thickened and the day grew cold again with the early sunset. He was sitting directly opposite her before the men’s hostel, smoking, staring at the ground between his legs. They sat facing one another. They were separated by their identities, joined by their love.

August 26, 2014July 31, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1950s, analysis, British lit, British literature, criticism, fiction, Irish lit, Irish literature, Lovers Of The Lake, Sean O'Faolain, short stories Leave a comment

‘The Door’ by E.B. White

The Door by E.B. White, 1939

The magic trick:

Ace use of parentheses

It’s not often you find E.B. White compared to Slick Rick, but here goes. Slick Rick, especially on his 1988 classic album The Great Adventures Of Slick Rick, mastered a rap style in which he would record multiple takes of his verses and then play back different ones panned in different places, left to right, across the audio spectrum. The result was that he often sounded like two, sometimes even three or four, different people rapping back and forth at each other.

E.B. White in “The Door” creates the same effect, using parentheses in nearly every sentence. The reader seems to be getting a duet of words – the omniscient narrator’s presentation of reality, countered quickly by an alternate reality that seems to exist in some parallel world.

The effect is jarring and positively inspiring. I find that reading this story makes me instantly want to start writing. And that’s quite a trick by White (and Slick Rick).

The selection:

Everything (he kept saying) is something it isn’t. And everybody is always somewhere else. Maybe it was the city, being in the city, that made him feel how queer everything was and that it was something else. Maybe (he kept thinking) it was the names of the things. The names were tex and frequently koid. Or they were flex and oid, or they were duroid (sani) or flexsan (duro), but everything was glass (but not quite glass) and the thing that you touched (the surface, washable, crease-resistant) was rubber, only it wasn’t quite rubber and you didn’t quite touch it but almost.

READ THIS STORY ONLINE

August 25, 2014July 31, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1930s, American lit, American literature, analysis, criticism, E.B. White, fiction, metafiction, short stories, The Door Leave a comment

‘My First Goose’ by Isaac Babel

My First Goose by Isaac Babel, 1926

The magic trick:

Showing the horrors of war without writing about battle

“My First Goose” was published as part of Babel’s collection of stories about his service during the Polish-Soviet War. Such context should prepare the reader for some pretty harrowing material. What surprises here, though, is that the disturbing picture is painted without a mention of battle. This story is set in the relative peace of cavalry camp. The soldiers are doing nothing more violent than eating dinner together.

Nevertheless, it’s a grisly scene. The mob mentality of the army demands that the narrator must prove himself as a man’s man. He has committed the double sin of being educated and wearing glasses. He wins his comrades over by showing no sympathy whatsoever to the landlady and then butchering a goose. It does not take much stretch of the imagination for the reader to interpret these actions as symbols for even more cold-hearted behavior. The effect is chilling. And that’s quite a trick on Babel’s part.

The selection:

“Christ!” I said, digging into the goose with my sword. “Go and cook it for me, landlady.”

Her blind eyes and glasses glistening, the old woman picked up the slaughtered bird, wrapped it in her apron, and started to bear it off toward the kitchen.

“Comrade,” she said to me, after a while, “I want to go and hang myself.” And she closed the door behind me.

August 24, 2014July 11, 2014 by bcw56 Categories: Short Story Magic TricksTags: 1920s, analysis, criticism, fiction, Isaac Babel, My First Goose, Russian lit, Russian literature, short stories 2 Comments

‘The Mysterious Kor’ by Elizabeth Bowen

The Mysterious Kor by Elizabeth Bowen, 1942

The magic trick:

Showing two women’s desire for an imaginary happiness

Early in the story, Pepita talks to Arthur about her dreams of mysterious Kor, the forsaken city of a poem she quotes. I thought, “Oh, OK, this is nice. Very romantic. During wartime, a nice escape dream for a young couple.” I figured that was the crux of the story. And in some ways I was right. But little did I know that Bowen was about to double down on the Kor metaphor.

Callie, too, – Pepita’s virginal roommate – lives in her own version of the Kor dream. She filters her fears and lusts through Pepita and Arthur’s relationship, escaping life vicariously through them.

As a result, what began seemingly as a war-torn romance story becomes a very dark, misty, somber, resonant story about an entire generation, an entire country, caught in the tragedy of war. And that’s quite a trick on Bowen’s part.

The selection:

“Don’t be cross about Kor; please don’t, Arthur,” she said.

“I thought girls thought about people.”

“What, these days?” she said. “Think about people? How can anyone think about people if they’ve got any heart? I don’t know how other girls manage: I always think about Kor.”

“Not about me?” he said. When she did not at once answer, he turned her hand over, in anguish, inside his grasp. “Because I’m not there when you want me – is that my fault?”

“But to think about Kor is to think about you and me.”

“In that dead place?”

“No, ours – we’d be alone here.”