THE NARRATIVE DRIVE

"No Gold Rush," by Alta Ifland

2012-02-05T11:27:00.001-05:00

This story walks the line between fable and philosophy complete with an unreliable mustached peasant. It poses questions about the nature of love, the beloved and the lover, the object and the subject. There is an alchemic quality to the story that leaves the reader pondering questions like, what did that mean, and do I believe this story-teller? When the narrator reveals “that we are nothing but molecules of being completely cut off from each other, and that in order to make existence bearable we have been inventing fictions since the dawn of time, fooling ourselves that something like “love” existed, when in fact the only thing that exists are our skin and bones,” the reader deftly moves with her through the worlds of prosaic experience and ideas. I’m reminded of the Calvino novel, Invisible Cities, a wonderful mix of fiction and geography of the world. If you like Calvino, you’ll love this story. If you are not familiar with him, give this story a try here at Identity Theory.

"Divine Beings," by Michelle Lawrence

2012-01-19T20:29:00.000-05:00

Tight economic times take marriages into tough places. This marriage is no different. When her husband finally lands economic success by creating and selling Jesus zucchini, he stretches the patience of his wife. With the endorsement of his mother and church, he invites his wife to join the fold. The language is packed with character revealing description and action. The surprise at the end is well earned with a twist on the religious thread that runs throughout. For a great read turn here to Stones Throw Magazine.

"Orphans," by Douglas Light

2012-01-05T20:01:00.000-05:00

It’s a story of loss. She’s without parents since nineteen years old and family connections . What she has now is only the memory of an abusive uncle. Advice was given by a neighbor’s dad, a policeman, who counseled her to get a gun. While drinking wine, she remarks about cork: “Twenty-five years it takes the tree to mature. Then it’s stripped naked of its bark, and stripped once every nine years after that. The thought terrifies me.” Language moves this story forward with inevitability of character. She is now twenty-five. For a chilling read go here to failbetter.

"The Map," by Don Schwartz

2011-12-20T20:39:00.000-05:00

This story has the ambience of a modern film noir and a chilling discovery about the Nazi’s penchant for detail surrounding a mysterious map. But the story delves deeper than any film noir movie. The relic from Hitler’s private collection is a corner of a map of the Warsaw ghetto before the Jewish uprising. And the map was an exact replica of every block, every building, every nook and cranny used for hidden munitions and hidden passages where children confiscated bread from outside the ghetto and returned and delivered their bounty to their parents. With remarkable intrigue and references to actual events and people, Schwartz weaves a story to illuminate what it means to be German. Read it here at The Adirondack Review.

“Since the Accident: A Story,” by Michael Croley

2011-10-27T20:20:00.003-04:00

What at first the reader perceives as a trauma sustained from a car crash later burrows deeper into character aspects of integrity and honesty and the quiet conflict with her spouse. Secrets and the difficulty of communicating truth fester below the accumulating snow of this winter tale. The story unfolds a common enough life of a middle class couple in a small town where there are expectations about starting a family. But something’s wrong. Read the story here at Narrative Magazine to find the clues about this woman’s internal dilemma.

"Caution," by Nathaniel Bellows

2011-09-20T19:35:00.000-04:00

The story opens with a clear statement of fact: “It was Mrs. Adams, a woman from their town, who had died.” The omniscient voice tantalizes us with its distance from events and emotion. A girl and her mother share something curious, a penchant for hiding emotion and facts. Bellows’ story is full of tension and mystery. Some things in life happen and we cower, other things happen and we deny their occurrence. Sometimes the factual details of events cushion painful emotion, masking as denial. And then there are shocking moments that can only be explained through sheer passion of emotion. This story delivers on all of this as well as mystery, death, and violence in a seemingly quiet Vermont town, which carries an invisible air of violence. Read it here in memorious for the pure pleasure of it and the puzzling facets of detail.

"Backbone," by Glen Pourciau

2011-08-25T15:58:00.000-04:00

In some relationships there is an imbalance of power. To an outsider, it can seem almost funny but inside the situation it’s another story. One partner has more backbone and is more determined than the other to take control. A seemingly small mistake, paying for one dessert that they did not order, appears to linger silently but resurfaces ten years later. Why we hold onto old wounds is the stuff of therapy. But Pourciau shows through sharp dialogue how the upper hand in this situation shifts from wife to husband. Read it here at Apple Valley Review.

“Four Shorts about Feet,” by Louisa Wolf

2011-08-17T20:53:00.003-04:00

I don’t often think about my feet until they talk back. There’s the occasional bruise, or such matters of aging like bunions, fallen arches, and plantar fasciitis. Regardless of the insult, our feet convey our heft through life but the first person narrator in these stories takes a perspective closer to the soul. Rich imagery and memory weave a series of stories as child, wife and mother. While the image of feet links these stories, here’s an image that stuck with me. The language evokes a parent’s conflicting feelings during the teenage-rearing years: “My heart, a leathery pouch as wrinkled as a hobbit’s purse, hiding hope, and maybe a dagger.” Read it here at Agni Online.

"To Pieces and To Death," by Amanda Rea

2011-07-08T13:05:00.002-04:00

A woman alone feels deep silence and emptiness in her apartment after her pet fish dies. Outside the neighbors argue and words of domestic violence penetrate her living space and imagination. She can’t sleep. A few months earlier she’d left her husband without warning, a guy who professed his love, a guy who was really nice to her as well as strangers. All around, a really nice guy. But somehow he responded with hysterics to only things she’d said to him. Unlike her, he had refined tastes when it came to wine and avant garde films. There are some intriguing internal stories to link with her sense of loss like the one about the missionary woman who became emaciated for refusing to eat another banana, but her husband force-fed her the mush and she eventually died of fright. Another is a dream about her fish that apparently survives and finds freedom in flying. And the neighbor survives another round of domestic abuse, police tape surrounding her place. The associative leaps between encounters and thoughts are strong. Read it here in Wazee Journal.

"The Girl On The Bus," by Brian Patrick Heston

2011-05-30T09:59:00.000-04:00

How many times do teens set out looking for validation only to be crushed by rejection? Heston captures the way a high school sophomore thinks about a girl whom he often sees on the bus. There is also the authoritative voice of his friend who obviously has more experience in the ways a girl thinks and behaves. He’s one of those kids upon whom no detail is wasted and if the details don’t satisfy, he’ll convince anyway. This friend’s influence is both humorous and controlling. The dialogue is fresh and moves the story with the force of a twister that can unexpectedly change course. And that’s what happens with the depth of character given these two boys. Get the experience. Read it here in Our Stories.

"Last Call For A Loner," by Tom Sheehan

2011-05-05T11:25:00.002-04:00

The mystique of traditional story telling offers a look through the amber of the frozen, inexplicable moment. A stranger hitchhiking; he’s a loner without place or connection and accepts a ride from a driver of a rig who offers an invitation to his home. Serendipity enters, and by coincidence the loner and the driver’s father find a connection. There are details here about pervasive loneliness that strike a chord beyond the story. The descriptions are mesmerizing like this one: (he) “…felt again that unknown sweep of energy come across his chest …making him think he was in a kind of wind tunnel.” The ending satisfies like a tale well told and must be read entirely to appreciate the spoiler that will not be revealed, here at Serving House Journal.

"Colloid," by Justin D. Anderson

2011-04-24T20:00:00.000-04:00

Anderson’s story weaves brief scenes with associative connections between fathers and sons. It’s a “solemn” lyric story that moves between particular details and ambivalent meaning such as the opening line, “My old man used to tell me about rumors.” The title holds the piece tightly, which I realized after consulting my dictionary and then experienced the story with a slight shift, for the better. It’s quite an experience reading this story. Think of a watercolor painting blurred around the edges that calls attention to realism but does not shy away from impressions. Read it here at Necessary Fiction.

"Hero of the Nation," by Ranbir Sidhu

2011-04-08T16:47:00.000-04:00

In a family where multiple generations live together with a variety of needs and ways to satisfy those needs, it might be expected that a lot of tension will result. The protagonist is a brave, young girl probably around the age of 12 or 13. She and her brother torment each other with a barrage of blue words. The parents are distracted with the care of the elderly grandfather, and they cower at the consequences for an ill and aging parent. One of the strengths of this story is the dialogue that captures three simultaneous conversations at the dinner table all witnessed by the inaudible grandfather. The story is both surprising and believable up to the very end. Enjoy it here at Barcelona Review.

"The Piano Lesson," by Andrew Wallace Chamings

2011-03-31T18:40:00.001-04:00

In the voice of a child, some breathtaking short stories have been written. One collection that comes to mind is Steven Millhauser’s In the Penny Arcade. Chamings, in this story, captivates the reader with an intriguing first paragraph that begins: “It was the start of the year and the end of the day.” The story sweeps through past time and near past never leaving the deepening moment of the piano lesson as Dale, the imaginative boy, ploughs through “Moonlight Sonata” under his teacher’s guidance. The story offers many moments of concrete detail such as biting into holly berries that result in “A dry and cold bitter juice soaked into the back of my tongue.” The effect is a story implanted in the reader’s mind. For a magical read, try it here at Prick of the Spindle.

"Fresh Eggs," by Jeffrey N. Johnson

2011-03-28T13:31:00.000-04:00

Johnson’s beautifully written story takes place in contemporary time and owes a nod to the Southern Agrarian tradition. When H.L. Mencken wrote his 1920 essay, “The Sahara of the Bozeart,” he chastised the South for its poverty of intellectual and cultural contributions. In response, twelve eminent Southerners wrote I’ll Take My Stand: Southern Agrarian Tradition (1930) which help foster a formidable Southern Literary Renaissance. In Johnson’s story, the reader feels the loss of culture through the protagonist who laments that his young son will only experience a weekly visit for fresh eggs as “a childhood novelty, a petting zoo at best.” The heart of the story is not ideological but the deeper theme that the boy is unaware of, how people are more important than the competitive price of eggs. Read it here at Night Train.

"Touch," by Jesse Goolsby

2011-02-07T14:17:00.000-05:00

This is a prize story, winner of the 2010 Bausch Short Story award. Goolsby writes with some military experience behind him and evokes the emotional trauma of a soldier who returns from Afghanistan. A strong narrative voice delivers the soldier’s particular experience with the horrors of war. The core of the story rests on the character’s life upon returning home. The experience of touch can be more difficult to receive than give when emotional response has been programmed for defensive alert. He realizes, “I’ve forgotten how to touch my children.” During a game of singing the alphabet with his daughters and the persistent touch of his wife’s hands, this veteran is nudged back on the road to emotional response. Read it here at Our Stories.

"Last Night and Other Stories," by Lucy Jane Bledsoe

2011-02-01T19:20:00.000-05:00

Part way through reading, this story took me off guard. I wasn’t prepared for a certain revelation that can only be experienced by the reader first hand; otherwise, to reveal it here would weaken any initial reading. The strong voice of the narrator carries the story. She’s fascinating in the way that Scheherazade might have been to the king. This contemporary story spinner is both a creator of lies and aware of her guilty participation. But tables eventually turn and she must face herself. There are many rewarding moments of surprise and especially in the way the story finds its ending. Enjoy it here at Hot Metal Bridge.

"Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby," by Billy O'Callaghan

2011-01-24T11:40:00.000-05:00

This story with its seamless moving third point of view delivers a masterful level of depth. The writer draws a fine line discerning a fragile relationship of two people married to others but who find love between themselves. The reference to the song title evokes a simpler, nostalgic time with the harmony of barbershop quartet in contrast to the tone of loss and the abandonment felt in a Coney Island winter. The story’s strong sense of place offers these adulterous lovers the isolation that they crave from the bustle of Manhattan, and evokes the possibility of an infinite world suggested by the sweeping line from shore to horizon. It’s a compelling read where the writer does not tease with the characters’ future. Instead, the writing takes the reader along the journey where grace finds a way to seal these lives. “Some people see a glass as half full, others see it as half empty. But there is a third group, a small, almost unnoticeable percentage, who want nothing more than the opportunity to quench their burning thirsts.” Enjoy it here at Waccamaw Journal.

"Tree," by Anjie Seewer Reynolds

2011-01-17T18:00:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid, many years ago, I loved riding my bike in the neighborhood. In my memory there was a particular hill as being a real leg-pumper; but fifteen or so years later when I returned, the hill barely rose from level ground. It wasn’t that I had grown in height in those intervening years but somehow my experiences had yielded another perspective on the terrain. Revisiting childhood haunts and former experiences may offer surprise, disappointment, and a new perspective. Reynolds’ vignette is powerful in imagery and the narrator’s attempt to recapture youth. Enjoy it here at Writers Workshop Review.

"Bearing a Cross," by Joseph Bates

2011-01-12T10:57:00.000-05:00

Here’s a story that connects with the tradition of Maupassant, Sherwood Anderson, and Faulkner in the way that small town culture is portrayed as a cautionary tale. Bates’ town of Walhalla, South Carolina reacts to 9/11 with its best intention to govern by theocracy. The first person voice achieves authority throughout with statements such as this referring to the burning towers in NYC: “… you could smell the sulfur burning off her buildings from here.” Regional authenticity in the narrator’s voice entices us into believing the chain of events of this town. But we are given more than the particular with magical insights that resonate beyond Walhalla. Read it here in Issue 2 of Stones Throw .

"It Was So Many Years Ago," by Amber Krieger

2011-01-06T21:37:00.004-05:00

The story centers on Henry, an older man, who happened to have been driving his car on an unlit road when he accidentally killed a man walking in the dark. For over 25 years he has struggled with this memory. Walking through the woods on this day captures Henry’s precarious balancing act through life: “The trail is uneven and each time he steps into a low spot he feels like he is going to topple over.” The deftness of writing draws precisely with a subtle pen linking emotions of isolation and disconnection from experience to experience, and from past to present moment. Read the story here at Carve Magazine.

"The Fly," by Katherine Mansfield

2010-12-05T21:19:00.000-05:00

In a snug gentleman’s study, an old friend warms by the cozy fire sharing a whiskey. A chance reference about his deceased son pitches the gentleman into repressed memory and emotion. It’s a classic short story structure that calls upon the reader to search for meaning and leaves one with a feeling of satisfaction that only a master storyteller can deliver. Mansfield is that kind of writer. I am delighted that this story is available on the net for wide distribution today. Enjoy it here at 42opus.

"Two Bodies Passing Each Other," by Matthew Olzmann

2010-11-12T19:16:00.000-05:00

What is intimacy between people? I suspect it’s felt more easily than defined. Olzmann offers an image that suggests a quality: “The glow from the one streetlight on our block slips into our room through a part in the curtains. It cuts a narrow path across the floorboards.” In this story, a couple’s familiarity and patterns of experience still leave a wide margin of mystery in their relationship. Read it here in elimae.

"Pleiades," by Anjali Sachdeva

2010-11-09T12:28:00.000-05:00

The complexity of identity posed by identical twins is intriguing. You no doubt have encountered those kids who no one can tell apart except by the hidden mole in the small of the back, the kids who traded places and tricked teachers, friends or lovers. On a more serious level, what does it mean when twins who are separated by miles feel an intense emotional connection or physical pain? What really is the nature of intimate communication? Sachdeva’s story explores these connections and the fear of death among seven sisters. Leaning on the Greek myth of the Pleiades this story evokes a mysterious sensibility surrounding emotional connection and destiny. There’s a mix of the believable and the truly unexpected, that kind of moment most of us look for in short stories. Read it here in Gulf Coast Journal.

"The Way They Broke," by Joseph Celizic

2010-10-26T19:36:00.000-04:00

Kids more often than adults allow themselves to express emotion through direct action rather than suppress emotion. Of course they often face social reprimands, unjustly, for actions that adults consider empty of emotional honesty. Celizic’s writing delivers felt emotion through action by tracing destructive acts with the emotion of loss. From the first sentence the image of broken glass propels the protagonist’s motivation and expression: “After Mama Jen died but before her funeral, I accidentally knocked over a glass on our concrete porch. … I spent the rest of the day stepping on dried leaves, splintering dead branches.” The story earns its title with an accumulation of action that speaks to the protagonist and connects with his mother. Read it here in Southpaw Journal.

"Dings," by Wayne Conti

2010-10-05T12:05:00.000-04:00

I like the way the title points to the center of the story. Literally, it refers to an old Lincoln on which Henry’s father has left his mark. It also resonates with an emotional core that would be described with mundane words by a less talented writer, but instead we are given the bruised emotional state of Henry, the adult son, and his dad. A strong short story moment for me was captured when I read: “… for the first time [Henry] noticed … how sometimes [his dad] was supporting himself on the pushhandle of the cart almost as if it were a rolling walker.” It’s a complicated little story. I think you’ll find it lingers and leaves dings in your heart. Read it here at Anderbo.

"Every Word I Said," by Bill Torgerson

2010-09-28T15:02:00.000-04:00

I once heard a teacher confess to a group of teens that he had not realized the complexity of his alcoholism until he’d gone through AA. He did not deny that alcohol was the culprit but much deeper was the insight that he loved an audience. His friends liked him when he was drunk because he could make them laugh. Applause, that’s what got him hooked. This is a confessional story about regretting some teenage behavior. I am usually not fond of short stories that rely on lengthy flashbacks or scenes that happened in the past. This one spends too much time recounting that. But I overlooked my preference because I was drawn to how this writer peeled away the layers of his teenage years groping for adulthood and how he later found a glimmer of truth about himself. The honesty of what he faces matters deeply. He convinces the reader that just saying he is sorry, while important, lacks weight. Read it here in Barely South Review.

"The Shoebox," by Jonathan Starke

2010-09-21T14:48:00.000-04:00

In most long-term intimate relationships there inevitably comes the moment of disconnect. The husband or wife sees with eyes wide open while the other with eyes cast downward withholds secrets and lacks disclosure not always out of malice but some unclear mystery, some unexplained disconnect. What if the one with clarity was actually a mannequin? “As long as I keep getting it sprayed, my face will never loose its smooth features… .” And what about the man who holds onto the shoebox of love tokens, “This just can’t possibly work anymore… .” The story poses an interesting dilemma: who has the broken heart, mannequin or man? Read it here in Blood Orange Review.

"Down Bayou Black," by Gay Degani

2010-09-18T17:50:00.000-04:00

There was a time when I was thoroughly engrossed with the writings of Cornell Woolrich. His noir fiction is thick with impenetrable shadows, howls in the night, and hunted characters who hold on to motives as tightly as the men who hold their guns in a Brinks truck. So with this story I enjoyed a brief deja vue but in a different place and time. Degani has a clear sense of a particular South, “bayou as black as molasses in moonlight.” The reader sympathizes with the narrator who needs relief from pneumonia, and later we learn she has another reason to leave home. The ending holds suspense as well it should and offers clarity beyond the muddy water where she finds herself. Read it here in 101 Flash.

"The Man in the Moat," by David Massengill

2010-09-15T20:37:00.000-04:00

Another story about men who behave badly? A fairy tale about men repressed by women? Or is this a tale about the burden carried by women who insist too firmly? There’s a castle moat, a runaway prince, and a princess left to birth her child alone. A mouse too appears with a voice as wise as a soothsayer. It’s all told in a charming way with the curious puzzlement of a Grimm fairytale. Read it here in MiCrow and enjoy the whimsy of it.

"Chinaman's Chance," by Tai Dong Huai

2010-08-24T21:57:00.002-04:00

If a family of a different race adopts you, how do you begin to think during the teen years about sensitive issues like identity? The narrator in this story is a young teen, a girl born in China adopted by an American family. Her adoptive mom teaches English to a Chinese woman who has come to the house for lessons. The physical details like hair, nose, and thin frame provide a context for something shared (“…this woman I share a country with”) but not necessarily embraced. It is when the narrator overhears the lesson in verb conjugation that the subtext of history and heritage illuminate irony in the moment. Read it here at Verbsap.

"Boots," by Pamela Gay

2010-08-19T10:49:00.000-04:00

In the vein of Robert Olen Butler’s Had A Good Time: Stories from American Postcards, this story too evokes a life between the lines; in this case, the tension between what the postcard writer thought and what she wrote. The visual element of the displayed postcard, the actual handwriting and the postmark, lend an aura of reality to the fiction. The dreamy quality of the prose and the suppressed emotion echo the blurry watercolor of the postcard illustration. The 1945 postmark and an unnamed voice, which refers to Japan’s surrender, places the story in history. Most appealing is the device of using a relic to evoke enough particulars of a life that capture the reader’s imagination. I love the line, “Some nights she’d turn in her sleep and curl into him to find he had his boots on.” There are numerous curious elements in this flash fiction. Enjoy it here at Grey Sparrow Press.

"My Father's Paradox," by Marko Fong

2010-08-16T20:52:00.000-04:00

I find this story appealing because it takes me back to my student life in Boston during the late 60’s and early 70’s amidst the turmoil of the Vietnam War. But the challenge of this tantalizing story is large; can the writer deliver a story with compelling character motivation and dramatic movement under the weight of recent and controversial history? The unnamed fictional narrator (a stand-in for Robert Ellsberg, son of Daniel Ellsberg) attempts to understand the series of choices made by his father. A central metaphor is conjured from a decision theory problem of choice and statistical certainty. The real paradox appears that the metaphor doesn’t illuminate exploration of the emotional center surrounding the father-son dilemma. The facts of a life, in this case, tend to outweigh the fictional magic of the story. Read it here in Eclectica and decide for yourself.

"Between the Words," by Robert Earle

2010-08-09T21:39:00.000-04:00

With digital processing technologies at my fingertips, I admit I have become hooked on new versions and updates. In spite of this enthusiasm, I catch myself denigrating my hand-held gadgets to the role of mere memory aids, like hearing aids or glasses. Then a fleeting thought will brush my mind with a teasing question, are the digital versions of my observations and thoughts extensions of my memory and imagination, or will my digital version of self give rise to a digitized me? Earle’s story characters are engaging with their shared history and their meeting in the ubiquitous world of Starbucks and Ipads. For a surprising convergence, read the story here at Prick of the Spindle.

"Cecilia," by Susan Alexander

2010-07-27T14:30:00.001-04:00

This story struck me as a brilliant gem. It’s about a woman whose memory works in an unusual way. She forgets nothing. It’s a bit of an embarrassment for her as she is asked to deliver an annual lecture to an audience of college psych majors. She has a sense of humor and uses that to bridge a connection with the students in order to lessen the awkwardness she feels being on display. In a most satisfying way the story takes a deeper turn and draws the reader into the dilemma that remembering everything can pose. For a story with shape and depth, click here at Joyland.

"The Bob Society,' by Nina Schuyler

2010-07-11T16:49:00.000-04:00

It’s no laughing matter when you’re the center of attention and claimed “a riot” when really all you are is you. That’s Bob’s dilemma when a woman, an antique dealer, arrivers to buy an antique desk that he owns, or possibly owned by his ex-wife. The woman arouses him with her presence and the rustle of her gauzy blouse that makes the sound of the “dazzle of fireflies.” The middle of the story moves in all directions, the backstory, the present moment, and Bob’s reflections on his past relationship with women. But he’s preoccupied with the work crew across the street building a stonewall around the house. He considers the possibility that they are members of a secret club and muses about starting his own secret society. The ending uses strong imagery and action and comes to a crashing halt leaving Bob imagining the weight of the stone shouldered by the men across the street as they complete their project. Read it here in The Meadowland Review.

"Her Youngest Son," by Valery Geary

2010-06-23T10:44:00.000-04:00

Being a kid is fraught with lots of frustration whether you are an only child or one among a litter as this kid. But a kid’s imagination can be a saving grace, even when an opportunity is ushered by someone he despises. In this story, imagination serves to sustain the kid through adulthood disappointments. I’ve always wanted to experience the Giant Redwoods in California. This story offers a wonderful moment capturing the immensity and mystery of those ancient trees. Read it here in Mendacity Review.

"Passion," by Alice Munro in the collection, Runaway (NY: 2004)

2010-06-14T21:29:00.000-04:00

On his blog here at Reading the Short Story, Charles E. May invites us to read the Alice Munro story, “Passion” (available online here at The New Yorker) as part of the International Short Story Conference held this month in Toronto (click here for program). May is participating in a panel, “Theoretical Approaches to Alice Munro’s ‘Passion’.” Her story is intriguing for all the unanswered questions it raises about the main character, Grace, and her search for meaning about her past as she revisits the Traverses’ house. We follow the young woman, marked by independence of spirit and intellect but limited by means where family background and expectations do not rise much above aspirations to learn the skill of chair caning, serviceable talent to support a decent life. The story’s real intrigue concerns such questions as the role of luck, memory, and happiness. In spite of Grace’s ‘gypsy airs’ and her ‘wild-looking dark curly hair’ that had to be tamed when she waited on tables, love and passion are out of reach. Maury who professes love does not appeal to her and his brother, the deep melancholy, married Neil sparks her thirst for mystery and daring. But he dies in an auto accident and she is given subsequently a sum of money from Neil’s mother. The story is rich in emotional tone and leaves the reader with the pleasure of mulling it over and over. Don’t’ forget to check out Mays’ blog here for further mulling over.

"Long Division," by Lisa Cupolo

2010-06-09T08:45:00.000-04:00

The compactness of this story bears down poignantly on a strained father-son relationship. They are a continent apart but distanced in more ways than geography. The title might sound like math and it does work that way, but more surprisingly it points to a rift in the heart. Do we commit ourselves to alleviating the pain of large social problems or do we tether ourselves to kith and kin? It’s a short piece that delivers a blow as strong as a novel with a long history. Read it here at Ploughshares.

"The Pineapple Princess," by Richard Lutman

2010-05-31T10:49:00.000-04:00

What a curiously entertaining story this is. It centers on a despondent writer chasing the muse. Originality of language and character is the gift Lutman offers to the reader. One gal offers the practice of boiling Easter eggs, the other only remembers Bogart from a movie. But it’s the gal named Pineapple whose voice is witty and her appearance is unpredictable. Will the protagonist reach Hemingway stature depends on the Pineapple Princess. For a fun read, go here to Green Silk Journal.

"Mix Tape: Vol. 1," by B. J. Hollars

2010-05-24T12:19:00.000-04:00

Sixteen and in love. Cars and music and time alone, and time wending your way through adults, parents, siblings. Experiencing life with someone who you believe understands your intense feelings and your blooming logic. But then there is the mystery too of how to deal with absence and routines, and the changes that intervene, the inevitability of a breakup. The great short story, “Pet Milk” by Stuart Dybek comes to mind. Hollars’ use of music fragments from a tape mix convincingly links with the emotions of the point of view character. Perhaps this reminds me of the way Dybek offers visual imagery to reflect the young man’s emotion in his story. For beautiful, poetic melancholy read Hollars’s story here in Night Train.

"Public Access," by Elizabeth Wetmore

2010-05-17T13:41:00.000-04:00

How does a story work when character gestures and descriptions are almost overstated, cartoon-ish maybe? Why does the reader care? Because the narrator voice is so strong and convincing while it bridges multiple viewpoints and sustains an underlying philosophy about life’s turns, misses and near misses, and surprises. The reader enjoys rooting for the underdog, ‘lost cause’ characters that we can cheer as they overcome obstacles, even a poisonous oleander bush, but only if the reader has the masterful guide of a strong narrative voice. It’s all here for pure enjoyment at Del Sol Review.

"The Lesser Known Siblings Girl Gang," by Roxane Gay

2010-05-10T16:30:00.000-04:00

I confess I read National Enquirer. With headlines like “Tiger & Elin Will Split Kids,” how can one ignore the promise suggested by the literal meaning of such a title? What’s better than the award-winning Enquirer, you might argue. But it’s here in Roxane Gay’s story. She is on to something. When our interests wane about Brittany or Lindsay’s relapse-comeback cycles, there is a warehouse of stories, i.e., a clubhouse of sister-celebs (and some guys) who will fuel future scandalous issues and temporarily fill our insatiable thirst for the self-destruction coined by Hollywood. Read it here in Keyhole.

"Skunk," by Ben Greenman

2010-05-01T17:52:00.000-04:00

Disappointments in ambition, parents, and lovers are familiar ground, as well as how we respond each in our way to unhappy lives. The unusual element here is the way this writer offers fresh language that knits a tableau of the life of a skunk, a guy who does not offer a reason for empathy from the reader. And yet, the guy’s not really so bad relative to the others in the story. I like the way the sustained metaphor of skunk pays off at the end of the story. Enjoy it here at Mississippi Review Online.

"The Receiving Tower," by Matt Bell

2010-04-25T16:23:00.001-04:00

The opening is clear yet disorienting, a characteristic of the poetic language that sustains this story to the end. “Most nights, we climb to the tower’s roof to stand together beneath the satellite dishes, where we watch the hundreds of meteorites fall through the aurora and across the arctic sky. …Once, Cormack stood beside me and prayed aloud that one might crash into the receiving tower instead and free us all. Once, I knew which one of us Cormack actually was.” It’s an intriguing story where memory dims and hope is even dimmer. The ending is a knockout, leaving this reader pondering the mutable nature of consciousness. Read it here at Willow Springs.

"The Stranger Room," by Susan Tekulve

2010-04-20T13:22:00.000-04:00

This story takes place somewhere in the South, in coal country in 1963. It’s a rugged place where the people who are deeply tied to the animals and nature outlive the defeated plans of big money dreams of coal company operators. My reading recalled the setting and tone of an early novel, Lamb in His Bosom by Caroline Miller, the 1933 novel that in the following year was awarded the Pulitzer, a first for a Georgia writer. A pregnant teenager in both stories is portrayed with the manners and bravery of her culture and both works are written with a definitive voice of authority. Read the short story here in Serving House Journal.

"Little Life," by Walter Cummins

2010-04-12T12:10:00.000-04:00

Where I live nearly everyone has a pet; a dog or two, a bird, or cat. These domesticated animals offer faithful, unrequited love beyond strained human relationships. It’s not easy to write a dog or cat story. There are so many of them and often they rely on cliché. But the writing here keeps the focus on the main character who has her share of conflicts. No matter where she turns in the story, love appears distantly out of reach except for the stray cat that has come into her life. But she receives compassion and strength from an unexpected source. Read it here in Perigee.

"Slopes,' by Wendy Fox

2010-04-09T12:39:00.000-04:00

An intriguing opening chapter of a forthcoming novel, this story reads with mystery, the intrigue of a Turkish village, minarets and volcanic snow slopes. Two people, separately married, have left America to find something of themselves and in each other. When Yasemin the older woman tells the young American Laura, “you have to be careful with the men here,” the reader’s not sure if the reference is better suited to the male ex-pat, Paul, who is confident with his art installations. The writing flows and the promise of mystery and romance draw this reader far beyond the end of the story here at Apple Valley Review.

"Sundries," by Tiff Holland

2010-04-01T13:07:00.000-04:00

There is no doubt that fast food, fast money via ATMs, and fast checkouts at the likes of CVS have become the substance of culture for some. In this piece, I feel the tightened trappings and the quiet desperation of this narrator looking for an exit. The way in which this narrator survives is tenuous and drew me in wondering about her afterward. Read it here in Mississippi Review.

"What I'd Say to Ms. Adams," by David Erlewine

2010-03-26T11:32:00.000-04:00

We often saw each other walking our dogs around the building where we both live. We’d offer nothing more than smiles and polite nods. But finally I introduced myself and my dogs. He opened his mouth wide and winced his eyes as if to squeeze out something more than incomprehensible gargle. After some seconds, I realized he was a stutterer. I stood patiently thinking since this was my first experience that it was probably more awkward for me than him. I recalled this moment after reading this story. The narrator reflects on a teacher in high school offering a moment of grace when he needed to back out of giving an oral report. In a fascinating note that follows the story, the writer mentions he is working on a series of “stutter” stories. Read it here in Foundling Review.
By the way, the gentleman’s name is Bob and so is his dog.

“Forewarned,” by Benjamin Matvey

2010-03-20T12:09:00.000-04:00

It’s an odd love story. She won’t move in for fear of killing his cat, Earl Grey known as Teabag when a kitten. He believes her rejection is based on some biological defect of his. She reminds him of Teabag, “Huge eyes and ears like a marmalade cat with its ears back.” What plays out is the danger of the reptilian brain strong enough to overpower judgment and logic. The story is scarier than sci-fi and more thought provoking. Read it here in Stickman Review.

"Not My City, Not My People," by Eric Maroney

2010-03-15T20:26:00.000-04:00

Objectivity in this story, directed at the Arab-Israeli conflict, recalls the feeling of Brechtian theatre. The protagonist is a chair with “an emblazoned sun … either rising or setting.” The story cleverly combines elements of a narrative arc (what will happen to the chair?) and incorporates non-fictional elements of the Middle East conflict from 1948-1967. Constancy is given a new perspective with the survival of the chair across time and place. There are characters in the story, some facing the absurdity of life, but none rise to the level of meaning as the chair. And by story’s end the reader wonders where now is that chair. Try this story for expanding your insight about this ongoing religious-political war. Read it here in Segue.

"Caiman," by Bret Anthony Johnston

2010-03-12T14:39:00.000-05:00

Lies, secrets, and prayers uttered by parents often come from an urge to protect their young from the looming violence of the world. We understand. Daily, we are exposed to the underbelly of our culture through broadcast news and the Internet. Strong dialogue carries the surface tension and intimacy between these parents. Preparing dinner, their bond is palpable as revealed in the following statement: “The meal was starting to feel like a celebration, like one of us had gotten a raise or was having a birthday.” The father’s surprise for the son, a small alligator, a caiman, is perhaps an invitation to violence in an attempt to come to terms with the world through love and prayer. The language is full of wonderful detail and depth of emotion. Read it here in Agni Online.

"Soft Landings," by Jay Baruch

2010-03-08T22:00:00.000-05:00

There’s something common and almost flat in this story- baseball, dreams, mowing lawns, dying parents, Alzheimer disease- but written with the pen of a master this story is woven with depth and feeling. Cape is in his mid-twenties with a liberal arts degree under his belt. And he has a passion for playing baseball. He won’t let go of the dream: “Without this particular slant of light, I’m like everybody else groping through the draft.” The story title is just right and the surprise element around that title offers a very satisfying read, here in Eclectica.

"Salt Air," by James Scott

2010-03-05T16:31:00.000-05:00

Something about the Maine coast yields to feelings of loss that for me the warmer coasts, say the Gulf, do not. Is it the colder water, the salt, the wind, the gritty sand? There is fitting correlation in this story of images that capture place and emotion. In particular, we are given a story of incompleteness and betrayal felt by a half-brother and half-sister. Here’s one image that I like describing the contents of an empty closet: ‘empty hangars sang like wind chimes’. Read it here in Memorious.

"The Man in the Moon", by Suzanne Grabowski

2010-02-28T11:13:00.000-05:00

This story has a surprising use of the word ‘whore’ and winds its way to joy. In the fog of the aftermath of a C-section childbirth, the narrator admits to finding the anesthesiologist ‘kind of sexy’. The light tone in the writing borders on humor and carries emotional weight with delicacy. Ending on a magical moment, the story offers emotional wholeness when the narrator dances with a name-less child at a wedding. It will touch your heart. Read it here in Gulf Coast.

"Admit One," by Cynthia Hawkins

2010-02-26T13:48:00.000-05:00

I enjoyed this funny, insider’s view of what is meant by the disparaging label, ‘nerd’. By adulthood, this narrator accepts the label with awareness of her thoughts and behavior, and how others will view her ‘trying not to make eye contact’. Meta-fiction runs through the story with reference to Quentin Tarantino movie-making: ‘It’s what he does with what he’s assembled that makes for an extraordinary end’. Read the story here in Monkey Bicycle and see how what you know about nerds is creatively assembled for an extraordinary end.

"Morocco," by Anne Fox

2010-02-11T10:13:00.000-05:00

Morocco is a place I have never been. Its very name conjures images of magic like those Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino. But here Morocco is mentioned with specific yearning. Photographs can lie. We all know that. This narrator wrestles with it too, a mother who prefers to settle for the lie. “Father’s plans were too big for the camera’s eye.” The narrator’s poetic language and longing for Morocco is startling in how the images of that destination contrast with what is: “The cobweb imprisons a shadow on the ceiling, hanging like tatters on the edge of feeling.” To wish this narrator a bon voyage with a good map read the story here in Able Muse.

"Film Noir," by Tracy Rubert

2010-02-05T12:08:00.000-05:00

I confess I was attracted by this title. I love the movie genre. Too many favorites to name them all: Double Indemnity, Mildred Pierce, Big Sleep, Leave Her to Heaven. On the screen, I love the shadows, the tension and violence looming around every corner, suggested by a floating curtain, and teased with every curl of cigarette smoke. In this story, the writer creates a clever moment, a story in a story while watching a movie on video. She recognizes the actor. He’s her former lover. She toggles back and forth between the script in the film and her memories revisited. Alas, there’s no femme fatale in this story but there is a sense of being wronged and powerless beyond the plastic remote in her hand. Read it here in Big Bridge.

"Nonna," by Laura Valeri

2010-01-31T13:53:00.000-05:00

I like the confidence of this narrator’s voice in the way chunks of imagery spool with ease the specific details of character. Try this: “… in the kitchen where her fingers play with egg and flour, where her flat thumbnails push cheese inside pillows of dough …”. Language here sings like a song. There’s yearning, love, and unspoken, unfinished business beating a silent rhythm below the chronicle of this grandmother’s life. The writer has heeded well Henry James’ warning to at all costs avoid the ‘weak specification.’ Indulge your reading pleasure here in The Adirondack Review.

"Requiem," by James Joshua Wilson Mattern

2010-01-24T19:12:00.000-05:00

I like the voice of this writer. I especially like the control that reigns in the story to the present moment before the beginning of a funeral. Authentic feeling is here: anger, recalling intense teenage desire to fly free from his dad’s influence, judgment by the young boy of his dad, and the deepening retrospective look. This narrative has a masterful way of turning corners and brings into focus the young man’s view of his dad while touching irrefutable connections. The practice of hate and anger has a self-sustaining life of its own. Without apology, this character’s emotional honesty enables him to honor a complex of feelings he has for his deceased dad. Read it here in Sleet Magazine.

"Cover Story," by R.A. Allen

2010-01-20T20:33:00.001-05:00

I first heard about kudzu one night in the late ‘60s when James Dickey gave a reading from Helmet at my college in New England. Before reading his poem “Kudzu,” he went to great lengths to describe the invasive vine with which we students at the time were not familiar. He described for us the kudzu-covered cars in a junkyard in Georgia. With the soft drawl of his voice, he said the vines served an unintended purpose in his youth. In the back seats of discarded Cadillacs, he’d crawl with adventurous girls and the vines provided them with the necessary comforts they needed when stealing away in the night for sweet romance. So when I read this story, my memory quickly recalled that night described by Dickey in his own words about his youthful escapades into taboo, sheltered by kudzu. Read a retrospective on kudzu in Mississippi here in LITnIMAGE.

"Winter's Coming," by Mark Wolsky

2010-01-17T13:33:00.000-05:00

Winter can be a bitch as documented in this story. We all live through our versions of winter but this writer evokes a Cormac McCarthy kind of bleakness and physical violence that takes us to the edge of what is probably better avoided. The attention to detail in this short-short works wonders in creating a whole atmosphere just in the description of eating a piece of pie. The good news is you don’t have to go there; you can read about it here in Our Stories.

"Third Lesson," by Summer Block Kumar

2010-01-13T19:18:00.000-05:00

As a kid I delighted in staying outside once the summer sun went down and felt a wild connection to nature, the damp air, the prickly grass, the other kids running around playing tag and screaming. Joy in the moment had intimations of immortality! This story evokes a childhood delight in spinning around outside in the dark until she and her sister would float and fall down on the ground that would “bob and bow like a sailboat” under them. But the story is deeply sad running over memory and present moment with language that mines the connections between experience and feelings. Read it here at Identity Theory.

"Spontaneous Generation," by Louis Bourgeois

2010-01-10T19:49:00.001-05:00

I responded positively from the start just because of the title. As a kid I recalled feeling the duality surrounding ‘spontaneous generation,’ the magic and the derision by science. But the writing here is what carries the moment. It’s a coming-of-age story with hindsight offering such strong images like the goat, and the song “Tom Sawyer” by Rush. Something about goats and the way they see with those peculiar eyes harks back to pre-evolutionary time. The image of Tom Sawyer coupled with rock music suggests a variation on spontaneous generation, the change from boy to man, from play and exploration to abiding by social rules, or commenting on them. The writing is lyrical and delivers a punch. Read it here in Shaking Like a Mountain.

"Off the Map," by Jon Morgan Davies

2010-01-05T10:54:00.001-05:00

The news story is a familiar one. An abandoned baby only hours old is discovered in a trash bin outside a fast-food restaurant. We’ve experienced the story from the side of the newscasters who jump at the chance to report the story repeatedly with horrific details minus the desperate story behind the story. Here we are given a chance to consider the choices made and the possible consequences that might happen after those choices are made. The narrator’s voice relies on a strong imagination that evokes great empathy from the reader. Leaps of human emotion and thought are heartbreakingly convincing. Read it here in The Summerset Review.

"I Return," by Mark Brazaitis

2009-12-30T15:27:00.001-05:00

The beginning of the third paragraph reads, “So I was dead.” Usually, I’d stop reading at this point. However, the opening paragraphs of the story offered a challenge I was willing to go along with: “…if I died young…I would return to earth as a ghost to look after my wife and children.” There is a wonderful balance in the writing here between fantasy and the real world, and so in the best of the tradition we are lead to believe in the possibilities. What this protagonist realizes about himself, along with humor, disappointment, and compassion, is surprising with a bit of grace tossed in. For an entertaining fantasy and strong story imagery that lingers after reading, click here for Cimarron Review.

"All There Was To Say," by Peter Syverson

2009-12-28T14:17:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the truth of life is too hard to bear and admit, and we tell ourselves variations that protect us from the hardness of experience. Some might accuse us of falling into the trap of lies. But for a brief moment, the variations allow us to move on in life and may provide some motivation for writing fiction. The protagonist in this story at one point compares himself to the ex-lover of his girl friend and concludes, “All of that truth we all think about but never admit to. It is better that way.” While focusing on the actions of his girlfriend of one month, he indirectly reveals who he is. I love the use of the detail of the half-peeled orange, like torn flesh, which is at the core of this story. What’s intriguing is what the reader is left with; the need to re-read the story and see if this guy is who he appears to be. If you like delicious ambivalence turn here to Our Stories.

The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters

2009-12-22T17:08:00.001-05:00

If you like a well-written ghost story, The Little Stranger might be your cup o’ tea. All the familiar elements are in play here: the ruined mansion, hints of hereditary insanity, emotional extremes, ghost/demons/poltergeists, imagination versus fantasy. The genre is woven into the setting of England in the late 1940’s just after the war. So we have a relatively recent historical period with modern sensibilities but with characters who can’t quite accept the rapid changes in society. The real charm of the novel rests with Waters’ portrayal of the once magnificent mansion, Hundreds Hall, as metaphorical evidence of the psychologically deteriorating lives of its owners. I could have done with fewer ghost sightings and rumblings but in spite of that I enjoyed this view of England from the historical and social slant. If you take the first sip, I’ll bet you’ll swallow the whole cup.

"Look At This For Me," by Catherine Uroff

2009-12-20T18:43:00.002-05:00

At one point in my life I had read that a right-angled slant in writing meant that one was spineless and desired social acceptance while a slant to the left indicated an independent thinker and someone who shunned social pressure. Needless to say, I wanted to forged an image of myself that I was afraid did not exist. This story takes an imaginative angle on handwriting analysis. I like the way the story unfolds a set of seemingly random details that are in fact tightly woven to reveal the protagonist. There’s a satisfactory balance here between inner and outer story, and the ending pays off well. Read it here in Foundling Review.

The Master by Colm Toibin

2009-12-13T14:57:00.002-05:00

I grew up in Newport and Portsmouth, Rhode Island, places where Henry James lived and walked a century earlier during the Civil War. It puts my native place in a larger context. Perhaps I have a particular affinity for James’ work that I wouldn’t have without this proximity in common. Toibin’s novel is a wonderful mixture of James the boy and man; James the writer and artist. I never felt that Toibin tried to craft a message that this is the definitive portrait of James. The writing maintains a just distance from the protagonist that allows the reader to make inferences about the man and his work. Certainly, there are moments when direct parallels are drawn between characters in his life and characters in his novels. His relationship with his siblings, his cousin Minnie Temple, and his jealousy of Oscar Wilde find a way in his writing. But Toibin does not do this in a way that reduces James’ fiction to merely elaborated real life experiences. In fact, Toibin’s novel offers a close focus on a very complex boy and sensitive man; one who surmised that women enjoyed his company more than men, one whose compassion for infected and sick Civil War soldiers aroused within him a sense of guilt and the disparity between them as he was soon to enter Harvard University to pursue law. This novel is a deeply imagined work that flows with ease and yet hints at James’ restrained prose. The emotional nuance that James translated so well in his art is turned on the man himself, the angles and turns of the prism through which he experienced life. I am familiar with Toibin’s short stories, not his novels. I recall a more muscular approach to writing found in his stories than found in this novel, which clearly speaks to the range of Toibin’s art. Revisit the world of Henry James with Colm Toibin.

"Son Salutation," by Brittany Fonte

2009-12-07T14:30:00.001-05:00

This is a surprising piece in the way that the narrator’s life is revealed through her yoga practice. At first reading, I perceived a risk in writing this piece because yoga is so pervasive and open for criticism of a sarcastic nature, and thus discourage potential readers. But the story draws in the reader and takes the reader on a much riskier journey than yoga. I don’t want to say too much because there is a kind of surprise or twist in the story that is for the reader to experience first hand. The line: “There are rules in yoga class, as in life,” resonates with both the inner and outer story here. Take the risk and read the story here in Wrong Tree Review.

"Office at Night," by Pamela Painter

2009-11-27T10:21:00.001-05:00

Pamela Painter has turned to another painter, Edward Hopper, for narrative inspiration. The well-known illustration from which she takes her story’s title, conveniently thumb-nailed on the site, serves as the source of imagination for her story world. Hopper’s super realist style coupled with Painter’s equally masterful locus of details enriches the reader’s visual experience layered with the verbal. Hopper’s painting seems so long ago and yet we are curious still about the people and how they connect. Painter takes us along with her: “What word, in 1940, would have been used to describe those rounded globes beneath the stretch, from rounded hip to hip, of her blue dress?” Think of this story as a virtual visit to the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis where this painting resides. Read it here in Smokelong Quarterly.

"Atlantic Retreat," by Stephen Busby

2009-11-22T16:24:00.001-05:00

This is a mythic story. After Joseph Campbell there was a flourish of these and many failed to offer more than the old tales. But here I find the veiled references to the River Styx, the ferry transports, the coins, and the marshy bog deepen the character’s plunge toward testing and self-evaluation. Also, as part of my enjoyment of the story, I have weathered a storm on the Atlantic island of Ocracoke during the off-tourist season in November, and this character’s experience rings with truth. Enduring one of his challenges, lyricism buoys his spirit and moves the story with rhythm: “I’m slipping more on the steep rubble-ground but won’t stop now—what are you equipped for—what are you going to do—I go on hauling myself upwards: this is what I do, there is only this, as I slip and slide and grip onto rocks and pull and pant to go on climbing; … .” To feel the existential experience of grief and loneliness that straddle realism and mythology turn here in R.KV.R.Y.

"Two Years," by Tim Johnston

2009-11-19T15:03:00.001-05:00

The back-story here centers on a child kidnapping, a context that taps into contemporary fears in this country, and the mountain setting suggests the West. This is a dark tale whose gift is the portrait of a character experiencing loss and feeling powerless against an indifferent landscape. The style evokes harsh realism reminiscent of a Cormac McCarthy story. Here’s an example of the lyrical tone and the prevailing motif of ‘watching’: “He checked again with the road, and again looked out over the gorge . . . all the way down the pass like this, looking, looking, until at last he reached the small resort town that lay in the narrow mountain valley like a tongue in the mouth of a wolf.” The novelistic scope succeeds through scenes that are exquisitely chosen to develop the reader’s empathy for the main character. Read it here in Narrative Magazine.

"Summit," by Ravi Mangla

2009-11-17T15:41:00.000-05:00

Here’s an unusual way to meet in a bookstore if you’re not afraid of heights. Mangla leaves this reader feeling almost giddy and airborne, wishing only the best for this couple and what they give to each other. Read it here in Pank.

At the Jim Bridger, by Ron Carlson

2009-11-13T10:46:00.002-05:00

This is my first reading of a collection of stories by Carlson. He brings the reader right into the room with clean details and an invitation to listen to the characters. In the first story, “Towel Season,” Carlson renders with compassion a mathematician who wanders through the maze of suburban families and pool parties while at the same time noodling his latest equations in his mind: “The chasm between his pencil figurings and the figures of the real world was that, a chasm, and there was no bridge.” But the way he finds himself to a bridge is surprising and satisfying to the reader. In fact, most of these stories find us looking deep into the lives of regular people who when they are cast into a moment of disorientation must find a way out. None of these stories are predictable in their characters or endings and their precise realism lulls us into safe territory where this writer mines the riches of life.

"The Night That Gail Left Early," Jeff Clinkenbeard

2009-11-06T12:03:00.001-05:00

In this age of smart phones, we are instantly and almost continuously in communication with one another. Except for that moment in the hot zone when you hear the person on the other end whine, ‘oh, I think I’m losing you.’ And you know the rest. But in this story there is another twist to the unreliable cell phone connection, the mobility it affords you and the freedom to roam where you please, undetected. Read it here at Anderbo.

"What I Know," by Kathleen Thomas

2009-10-29T20:33:00.002-04:00

Through portraiture, this very short story opens up a range of questions and feelings. I like the use of particulars and the strong images they evoke: “I know she hated that job, the blue smock she ironed each morning and then wore for long hours each shift stocking shelves, checking out customers.” There’s a melancholy tone given just right in the voice of a child looking back. The writing straddles the language of poetry and the narrative of short story. Read it here in Apple Valley Review.

"Saint Vera," by Barry Jay Kaplan

2009-10-26T18:14:00.002-04:00

An unusual use of language and omniscient viewpoint taps into the reader’s familiarity with stories of those who survived the horrors of World War II. Beauty and death, the power of story and how it is passed on to others, are all at the center. And then the drama of the story shifts to the first person narrator’s impressions of an older woman, once beautiful as evidenced by photographs of her. Appreciating her art in pictures and her life story, the narrator is deeply touched by her present circumstances and physical appearance. The end of the story leaves us with this narrator in shock and speaks to the mystery and power of art. Read it here in Prick of the Spindle.

"The Accident," by Allan Reeder

2009-10-21T16:13:00.001-04:00

This is a story written around the mysteries of memory. The writing is energetic, dense, and addresses the reader directly with deft phrasing that the writer effortlessly uses to cross present, past and future time. Entertaining as well as poignantly truthful, this story captures a series of events in the life a girl and later young woman. For a fast paced story that does not go limp in the middle go here to memorious.

"Our Children Would Not Kill Us," by Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer

2009-10-19T12:31:00.001-04:00

You might relate to the frustration of a writer waiting out that period of acceptance or rejection. For diversion, this character decides to immerse herself in her son’s ice hockey game. Who as a parent has not felt the following when their kid’s team scores: “The crowd swooned with pride, with joy, with communal familial love. Our children would not kill us, our children would make us better.” The significance of her manuscript pales in comparison to the almost religious fervor felt over the game, the power of the ice-making machine, and the guy who drives it. The believable moments of sustained humor are worth the read here at joyland.

"To Be Happy," by Sean Lovelace

2009-10-18T12:40:00.001-04:00

What is happiness? It’s an old question pursued from many angels but without a neat and tidy form. Can a fresh harvest of apples make you happy? Perhaps we don’t allow ourselves enough leverage in acting out what truly makes us happy. Perhaps there is an alchemist in all of us transforming what we have at hand into something lost, gone, or intangible. Read some attempts to harvest happiness here in juked. You might surprise yourself and give one or two a try.

"See You Later, Can I Have Some Please?" by David Erlewine

2009-10-16T11:41:00.001-04:00

It’s not easy to write a voice with convincing hatred and bitterness. Grief over his mother’s death does not interfere with this character’s appetite for cheeseburgers and beer. We listen but we’re skeptical. We doubt the validity of the details of his mother’s rape. What holds our attention is the shape of the narrative. The voice compels us to complete the picture of this inimitable and uncomfortable character. For a Halloween treat of disturbing psychology get your fill here at thieves jargon.

"Train Time," by Aaron Burch

2009-10-14T15:25:00.006-04:00

The story begins, "I took the train because it might be fun." And, the story ends, "It was dark out and we were between stops, in the middle of nowhere. I jumped off, started walking." Between these two points the reader glides over the rails with the protagonist whose rich mind traverses his past, his future, and the what-ifs of his life. I loved the moment when he feigns sleep to observe a woman who sits next to him during the night. Nothing is resolved, just a chance to go along for the ride here in featherproof books. If you want a storybook, pocket sized, to carry along just follow the nifty print and fold instructions on the website.

"Foreigner in a Straight Land," by J. Adams Oaks

2009-10-14T15:15:00.002-04:00

Recently, my computer landed behind the Genius Bar for repairs. Serendipitously, I came across a terrific site, www.cellstories.net which posts daily stories for your phone. I scrolled through this coming-of-age story and was enamored with the voice of the protagonist, gullible-sounding and full of integrity. He's an American student studying in Madrid who knows that he is gay but lacks the confidence to come out in his native land. He asks such questions as 'how will I know' and eventually he finds the real test and answer, and you will be cheering him along. It's a wonderful piece and appears in expanded form as J. Adams Oaks' recent novel, Why I Fight. Check out cellstories.net not here but on your smart phone and curl up with a good read in the palm of your hand.

"Black Holes," by Nina Schuyler

2009-10-07T10:58:00.002-04:00

A wonderful vignette that captures a moment of tension for a physicist that the reader intuits is fundamental to his life. And I suspect this is not uncommon for those whose minds are enraptured with the esoteric world of particle physics. But in this story, the dilemma unfolds with rich language that opens up the reader’s empathy for him. He thinks a possible solution to his problem might involve “magnetic separation.” Later, he recalls an earlier time with his wife when her eyes “caught his … a magnetic force not flowing clockwise or counter clockwise, but straight at him.” Read it here in Big Ugly Review. For an added treat, you can also hear the writer tell the story.

"Three Cigarette Stories," by Pia Erhardt

2009-10-06T15:11:00.001-04:00

The common object of a cigarette provides a nice way of tying together these three stories. The first story explores peaks and valleys of mother daughter tenderness and wounds. In the second story, a mother’s wounds inflicted by her children have little hope for healing: “When did she lose the voice they trusted? The one that said I know how to care for you.” The final story has a haunting inner story involving a 16-year-old girl who has recently lost her mother. She and her stepfather grieve in their awkward ways, but watching private moments of a stranger, a woman, live on her computer monitor, captivates the girl. This vivid trio suggests a parallel in visual art; walking by a triptych of individual panels that come together in a larger panorama. Read the triple feature here at Fictionaut.

"Piercings," by Dean Marshall Tuck

2009-10-03T11:53:00.001-04:00

The opening line of this story spins out a character who’s lonely but still has a sense of humor. He wants to spark a relationship with the girl in the front office who takes the rent checks. Her smile catches him off guard but it’s her facial piercings that illuminate more about him than her. At first pass, the story portrays this shy guy who imagines himself beginning to score with her. But the story provides a fuller picture when we see his family through his eyes, a family most readers would describe as predictably conservative. It’s the full story that surfaces after the first read and blooms in the reader’s mind of a character more familiar with feelings of shame than emotional connection. Read it here in Night Train.

"Unsealing the Tomb," by John Michael Cummings

2009-09-28T11:56:00.002-04:00

Some of the most compelling stories engage our empathy for a character who must either break from family or suffer integrity. The urgency of this story is made richer with a deep sense of place and history, the South and fears surrounding racism. To get your reading quota of delight and surprise offered by this wonderful writer, click here and be transported to Stickman Review.

"Date Blind," by Hal Ackerman

2009-09-25T15:42:00.001-04:00

When you’re middle aged and lonely, one of the ways to connect with someone is through the personal ads. They take all forms, some more sophisticated matchmakers than others, but they continue to exist because they serve a need. I like the way this story unfolds the character. He does more thinking than living. Maybe you know someone like that. The language is clever, at times funny, and sad. The title fits the story like a glove. Read it here at Storyglossia.

"Winter Husband," by Jean Thompson

2009-09-20T10:24:00.002-04:00

It’s winter where the snow and ice linger for months. I know the feelling. I’ve lived there and spent many a day on my backside because the sidewalks are perpetually covered in ice. Jerry’s crumbling marriage is captured in the image of “sparrows energetically going at a space of exposed dirt.” He tries to move beyond an affair that both his wife and kids know about, he offers to get groceries for his wife who’d rather build a dollhouse than leave her house, and he attempts to engage with his teenage son while shoveling driveway snow. In Jean Thompson fashion, the reader experiences a range of deeply felt emotions from despair, contempt, sadness, love and fulfillment. The story moves effortlessly between past and present, and the ending offers a moment of grace for this despondent character. For a glimpse at middle America, read it here in Five Chapters.

"Bridges," by Jennifer Andrews

2009-09-17T12:52:00.001-04:00

Who’s to say what forces carry us through life’s confusions, how we are buffeted against brutality; how some are carried over and how some fall down? It’s a fascinating question that fuels many stories. In this creative non-fiction piece, bridges work to capture moments of change, transitions from point A to point B, from entry to exit. It is quite effective the way this writer suspends time on one bridge crossing during a battle with her troubled sister. In this moment, past and future are telescoped by the narrator’s urgent observation: “Five minutes and she couldn’t wait.” Read it here in Pank.

"Banyan," by Molly Giles

2009-09-10T17:32:00.001-04:00

A ménage a trois is offered up with unexpected ambiguity and unresolved feelings. It’s a story about complex emotions, which in life may scare us and cause us to turn the other way. Mothers may find themselves in embarrassing situations with their teenage daughters whose perceptions may play very differently. Men may act in ways they do not see as sexually suggestive. Teenagers may find themselves longing to grow up but find themselves clinging to stuffed animals for comfort. On a trip to Hawaii, in hopes of rekindling her love relationship, this protagonist finds herself feeling trapped with her family. One beguiling image involves snorkeling and following a woman in a black one-piece suit in the shallow waters inhabited by fish and coral. Read it here in Cimarron Review.

"Last Call" by Richard Larsen

2009-09-08T11:58:00.003-04:00

This story begins with a reference to Bristol Palin's campaign appearance on television and unravels this narrator’s obsession with being caught between two places, like being stuck with fear on a bridge. What this narrator has to say about identity and love is astounding, especially young love and passion and confusion. In the best of stories, we look for tension along the lines of what is and what if, love and hate. What is at work here is a remarkable tension between the narrator’s gender, the honesty of love and existential identity, together with the structural device of the broken paragraph. The physical structure enhances the emotional truth of this story, masterful evidence of how a story can be organic. Read it here in Eclectica.

"The Visitor," by Daniel Alarcon

2009-09-01T11:23:00.006-04:00

Maybe after recently reading about a survivor of Hurricane Katrina, I am sensitive about tales of survival and natural disaster. This one especially caught me by the unfolding tenderness of the father’s voice. After a landslide, he and three children survive on a crest of a cemetery where the newborn has been buried. The mother had stayed in the village and dies there under the mud. Aid packages drop from parachutes. A stranger arrives with news of the death tallies from various regions. The specific location is not mentioned. The facts of the story pale in contrast to the unfolding details of emotion, memory and sadness. The father at times seems without bearings and time alone seems timeless. This is what he recalls asking his children. “Sometimes I asked, ‘Do you remember where we used to live?’ and their blank stares told me they hadn’t understood my question. I envied them and their youthful amnesia. Under the sweep of mountain sky, I felt alone.” Such elements of time and memory shimmer throughout this story. Read it here at Big Ugly Review.

Zeitoun by Dave Eggers

2009-08-30T11:33:00.001-04:00

I read a lot of fiction and I often chastise myself for not reading more non-fiction. Recently I decided to pick up a copy of Dave Eggers’ book that documents one family who survived Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans 2005. Eggers references Washington’s fear of terrorists possibly overcoming the city in the aftermath of the hurricane. But what surprisingly comes out of this story is less about social profiling of Islamic terrorists, and a whole lot about ‘the enemy is us.’ Abdulrahaman Zeitoun was born in Syria, a Muslim and a U.S. citizen, a well-respected contractor, and a rental property owner in New Orleans with a family. His journey of heroism to stay in the city during the hurricane in order to oversee his property and to help those left behind, people as well as animals, is counterbalanced by the absurd, mindless, heartless bureaucrats we usually associate with monolithic governments. Zeitoun’s wife Kathy and children leave the city. Sections of the book alternate her perspective with Zeitoun’s and deepen our empathy with the personal tragedy that this family experiences. Always keeping the reader immersed in the urgency of the hurricane and its aftermath, Eggers’ writing straddles the larger history of the Zeitoun family, across time and countries. It is a fascinating piece of writing. And it is journalism at its best, a cautionary tale about our democracy committed to protecting the rights of citizens, which in fact turns out to be a government more in tune with incarcerating prisoners than helping decent citizens trapped in the flood of New Orleans without food, water, medical help, and decent shelter. Thanks to the Zeitoun family’s survival, Zeitoun’s passion for building and generosity, and Dave Eggers’ journalism, we have a clear picture of how our government can fail its people. The strength of one large family can overcome adversity but not without a lot of pain and indignity. If one message of this book is clear it is that it is incumbent on all citizens to be vigilant and hold those in authority to be accountable.

"Touch Me," by Ronder Thomas Young

2009-08-30T10:09:00.007-04:00

I like the way this story spools out the threads of a young man’s life. It’s all here in about 4,000 words; family, friends, brother-sister relationship, sexual exploits, death and marriage. There’s a chronology here that underlies the structure but the surface level of story closely resembles the way we experience our lives. The writing illuminates fluidity of past, present and future. Through the masterly use of dialogue, we are invited into a story that defies the factual march of time. Enjoy the story here at storySouth.

"Senseless Acts," by Ethel Rohan

2009-08-27T16:48:00.007-04:00

Loneliness coupled with imagination can motivate what may seem like odd behavior but speaks truth to our inner ear. Fear of being seen for who we are can paralyze an attempt to connect with others. Or, we may feel unnoticed. We may find ourselves walking toward another person wearing the same sweater we are which was once hanging in the J Crew catalog. One of the age-old existential dilemmas is that it takes someone else to ‘see’ us, to validate our existence. But rarely do we commit acts to connect and be connected is such a meaningful way. Try this brief sad story on for size. The language leaves the reader pondering the meaning of senseless acts. Read it here in kill author.

"Renters," by David Manning

2009-08-25T16:41:00.003-04:00

It’s not easy capturing the compassionate observant voice of the child one used to be. But in Manning's story, the narrator does just that with perfect pitch and lyricism. It’s a story about foreclosure and might ring true with some of today’s readers. The details are exact, the narrative distance between boy and man is in balance, and what comes together by story’s end is the knitting of experience with insight tinged with irony. I like this particular image: “… the roof, which I remember was dun-colored with speckles of mica in the shingles that glittered like polished dimes when the sun was high.” Enjoy the read here at Anderbo.