Hills Like White Elephants by Ernest Hemingway

Talk. Wait. Decide.

Hills Like White Elephants is one of the most famous short stories of the 20th century and has received more than its fair share of scholarly attention. So, rather than go into full-blown critical analysis mode, I’m approaching this review more as a personal reflection. Re-reading it 25 years later (dang, I'm old), I found that it still holds up remarkably well although I wasn’t quite as blown away as I was when I first encountered it in high school English class. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still brilliant, but kind of like one of those small golf pencils they give you to fill in those flimsy mini-putt scorecards: sharp and striking at first, yet it seems to lose a bit of its edge the more it's revisited.

Back in high school, I was obsessed with this story. I remember being completely enamored by the punchy, stark, stripped-down style. Like so many aspiring writers, I thought I could mimic Hemingway’s technique. Oh, how naive! I quickly learned that writing with such precision and restraint is incredibly difficult. It takes serious talent to boil a story down to its bare essence, deriving emotional power through the art of subtlety. Hemingway’s brilliance lies in what remains unsaid and what can be inferred between those silences ("the iceberg theory").

John Updike once described Hemingway’s writing as possessing “gleaming economy and aggressive minimalism.” That hits the nail on the head right there. On the surface, Hills Like White Elephants is  just a conversation between a man and a woman waiting at a train station. But beneath that simple setup is a masterclass in implication, subtext, and emotional intensity. I especially admire how the story reads almost like the account of a nearby journalist eavesdropping on the couple, capturing their dialogue without judgment or intrusion. It’s the subtle and almost invisible storytelling, which makes it so remarkable. The structure is meticulous, the clipped dialogue flows with a natural rhythm, and the emotional undercurrents are quietly devastating. It’s really remarkable how much Hemingway accomplishes within such a compressed narrative.  

You can read this story HERE.

Emergency by Denis Johnson

The Pitt.

Many of Denis Johnson's interlinked stories in Jesus' Son have this strange, dreamlike randomness where misfit characters stumble through life in a drug-induced haze. Emergency is no exception. The narrator and his friend Georgie "work" at a hospital, spending most of their time stealing pills and getting high. The end result is a fever-dream of dark humor, absurdity, and bizarre misadventures.

For instance, there is a scene at the hopistal where a man shows up with a knife in his eye (already insane), and Georgie, who is just a janitor, casually yanks it out. Instead of doctors or medical personnel reacting like normal human beings, they all just sort of move on, as if pulling knives out of eyeballs is a regular Tuesday activity. It's unsettling, ridiculous, and somehow still funny. The hospital is meant to be a place of healing, yet Georgie and the narrator are probably the most damaged people in the entire building. Just not in a way that modern medicine can fix. They're like the walking wounded, metaphorically speaking. Maybe talking to the ER psychotherapist on duty or checking into rehab might help. 

After their shift is over, they decide to go on a road trip. Because why not? They’re driving through a snowstorm, hitting up a county fair, running over a pregnant rabbit (which Georgie heroically C-sections to save the babies) before the narrator absentmindedly sits on the newborn rabbits. They even pick up a hitchhiker on the way back. Does any of it make sense? Not really. Does it need to? Absolutely not. It's a wild ride though, that's for sure.

Through all the shenanigans, Georgie somehow emerges as an oddly heroic figure. He's reckless and unpredictable but also selfless and strangely kind. Perhaps he is a kind of messiah like figure? That might be bit of a stretch. Meanwhile, the narrator’s drug-addled memories are so fragmented and unreliable that it’s difficult to tell what’s real and what’s just a wild hallucination. I suppose that’s part of the appeal in reading this story where you’re never quite sure if you should be laughing or deeply disturbed. 

Philomel Cottage by Agatha Christie

Home Sweet Home.

Hard to believe it's already April! As quickly as these months are flying by, this also means another round of Agatha Christie short stories, courtesy of FandaClassicLit’s reading event! No complaints here. Philomel Cottage swaps Christie's usual detective-driven intrigue for something more intimate and psychological.

At first glance, it’s all rather idyllic: newlyweds Alix and Gerald Martin have recently moved into a charming cottage in the English countryside, a setting that practically begs for cups of tea and peaceful strolls. But as the days pass, Alix’s happily-ever-after begins to fray at the edges. Suspicion slowly creeps in and suddenly blissfull domesticity starts feeling more like a trap. Christie skillfully tightens the tension, mirroring Alix’s growing paranoia as she pieces together unsettling clues about her husband's true nature. Is she imagining things? Or is her life in danger?

The story is a slow burn, savoring the psychological unease rather than rushing into action. While the ending might not have the most dramatic payoff, the journey there is deliciously suspenseful. Watching Alix’s transformation from a contented new wife to a woman relying on sheer wits to survive is the true highlight. The tension builds up nicely with Christie’s signature storytelling charm at the helm, making for a perfectly cozy read for this rainy April evening.

Ordinary Nudes by Stuart Dybek

Calypso.

Stuart Dybek seems to have this remarkable ability to write about sensuality in a way that is both poetic and deeply evocative without resorting to explicit detail. Ordinary Nudes is an impressive display of brevity. Despite being just a single paragraph, it manages to distill some complex themes into a few elegant sentences: memory, perception, gender dynamics and the ephemeral nature of beauty. Dybek’s storytelling here is reminiscent of Hemingway’s minimalist style, stripping the story down to its bare essence while still maintaining its lyricism.

The imagery in the piece is especially striking. The woman's body, as seen through the mirror, is described with a dreamlike fluidity. Dybek draws a contrast between the woman’s physical characteristics and the idealized depictions of female beauty (nymphs, goddesses, and ballerinas). By doing so, he challenges the way women are often sexualized by the male gaze. Here, the woman is frozen in time through the photograph but she exists beyond this static representation where she will get older and beauty fades.

The woman's internalized feelings about her own body remain ambiguous and is juxtaposed with the male's voyeuristic perception of her beauty. His perception of her has been altered by time and secrecy with the tantalizing photograph being hidden away in a drawer “beneath his underwear.”  Dybek captures this impermanence of beauty in a way that feels both sensual and deeply melancholic, making Ordinary Nudes a memorable meditation on memory and the nature of desire.

You can read this story HERE.