Fragments of a Hologram Rose by William Gibson

Baaaaby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey. Or is it grave?

Much to my surprise, "Fragments of a Hologram Rose" by William Gibson is not the high-octane cyberpunk thriller like some of his other stories that I have encountered. Quite the contrary, it feels rather tame and slower-paced than the author's typical propensity for overwhelming technojargon and frantic storytelling. It's as though he eased off the accelerator, shifting the narrative focus towards character development and emotional depth. Unfortunately, this approach doesn't necessarily pay off and I actually prefer when Gibson is unhinged. 

While themes of alienation and loneliness stemming from over reliance on technology may appear trite by today's standards, one should take into consideration that this story was written in the late 1970s,which makes it remarkably prescient. Parker is obsessed with ASP units that function like VR dream machines. Life isn't going great for him at the moment: his girlfriend recently left him, he can't sleep properly and is stuck in a repetitively mundane existence. There are flashbacks to his young adult life through a series of fragmented memories. The story revels in murkiness and ambiguity. It is not always clear what is happening and adhering to the cyberpunk aesthetic, nothing is ever explained. Readers are entrusted with essential bits of information and tasked with piecing together the narrative puzzle through contextual inference. While this technique showcases a certain artistry, its effectiveness can sometimes falter as found here.

Late, Late Show by John O'Hara

Bring back Craig!

See? I don't just review Donald Barthelme short-stories. "Late, Late Show" by John O'Hara is my first story by this author and it actually might be my last one for a while. The only minor redeeming factor here is the brisk dialogue and zippy repartee between the couple, which essentially makes up the entire narrative. Everything else felt completely pointless. 

The couple is watching a movie and the husband recognizes a familiar name in the screenwriting credits, a Ralph P. Stimson. The husband then proceeds to tell the wife about how he first met Stimson when they worked together at an advertising agency before quitting abruptly and leaving for Hollywood. He shares various personal details about the man such as his quirky personality, offbeat fashion sense and the way he groomed his moustache, which was radical for the times. Why should we care about any of these details about Stimson's life? Anyways, during WWII, it's possible that they were both working for the CIA although the husband is evasive on the subject, much to the wife's chagrin. I find myself pondering what exactly John O'Hara intended for readers to glean from this narrative. Are we meant to decipher hidden depths within the rapid-fire banter, unraveling insights into the intricacies of this couple's dynamic? If that's the case, prepare to be disappointed because all you will find is a vast and empty hollowness. 

A Shower of Gold by Donald Barthelme

Cat-piano.

This blog is not solely devoted to Donald Barthelme, I swear. It just so happens that I have been reading a lot of his work lately and want to jot down some haphazard thoughts while it still remains fresh in my mind. Many of Donald Barthelme's short-stories revel in the absurd and "A Shower of Gold" is perhaps his most explicit and self-reflective exploration of this subject. The absurd is viewed through a satirical and paradoxical lens. The whole world has gone mad and life is filled with absurdity (institutions, bureaucracy and mass media being some of the main culprits) but it can also be a gateway to new experiences, artistic creation and establishing one's authentic self as opposed to accepting an imposed identity dictated  by society. 

Initially, Hank Peterson, a struggling sculptor, is skeptical about such notions when he decides to go on a gameshow called "Who am I?" to earn some extra cash. This bizarre television show aims to psychoanalyze its contestants and expose them as frauds for hiding their true nature. The beginning section is hilarious in its absurdity and highlights Barthelme's ability to infuse layers of meaning into seemingly preposterous scenarios. Continuing the surreal and unconventional theme, a cat-piano virtuoso unexpectedly appears at Peterson's loft, sparking a philosophical conversation on the nature of choices and free will. Peculiarity aside, the encounter proves to be both amusing and profoundly insightful. This is a perfect example of Barthelme's style. 

Despite his earlier aversion to the absurd, Peterson experiences an epiphany near the end of the story: 

"I was wrong, Peterson thought, the world is absurd. The absurdity is punishing me for not believing in it. I affirm the absurdity. On the other hand, absurdity is itself absurd."

Paradoxically, the narrator is mocking absurdity and also championing it as essential to the human condition. He goes on to add: 

"In this kind of world," Peterson said, "absurd if you will, possibilities nevertheless proliferate and escalate all around us and there are opportunities for beginning again."

Here, he rejects a predetermined, fixed and worthless existence for an identity rooted in the unpredictable, nonconformity and the power of imagination. Moreover, Barthelme tackles a lot of complex topics in this story, including myth-making, self-realization, free will, private vs. public life, art theory and existentialism. He even pokes fun at philosophical jargon in relation to nihilistic despair and alienation. For example, the following quote from Pascal is mentioned twice by two different characters: 

"The natural misfortune of our mortal and feeble condition is so wretched that when we consider it closely, nothing can console us." 

If our lives are full of despair and suffering, how does one fill this void and find meaning? I'm not sure if this story has a definitive answer to this question but that's part of the fun when reading Barthelme. His stories are often wacky and very funny but also leave the reader with plenty to ponder afterwards. Still, "A Shower of Gold" feels wildly uneven although there are some parts where the satire and humor is absolutely brilliant.

You can read this story HERE. 

Xífù by K-Ming Chang

Daughter-in-law.

April was productive month for my reading goals, culminating in a total of 39 reviews! May is already shaping up to be quite busy, which will likely impact my ability to sustain this remarkable pace I've been on. However, I remain cautiously optimistic that it will be possible to review at least one short-story per day. First up, we have "Xífù" by K-Ming Chang. I'm not up to speed with newer authors and tend to gravitate towards the more recognizable household names. Although lately, I have started to broaden my reading horizons, especially when it comes to POC writers. This story was fantastic with a great mixture of pathos and comedy. We are presented with three generations of a Chinese family, all from the perspective of women. Intergenerational trauma, gender roles and cultural estrangement are important themes running throughout the story. 

The primary narrative voice is a mother telling a story about her tumultuous relationship with the cantankerous mother-in-law prone to histrionics. As someone with an Asian background, catastrophizing and living a life of hyperbole feels quite relatable. This formidable matriarch, disapproving of her son's chosen spouse, resorts to dramatic gestures, feigning suicide repeatedly in protest against the marriage. The story is filled with surreal and dark irreverent humor, especially pertaining to the mother-in-laws outlandish suicide attempts. The mother's daughter is also queer, which is a radical departure from heteronormative expectations and perhaps an attempt to break the inherited trauma of marrying a man with an overbearing mother-in-law. Despite the serious subject matter, the author somehow makes it all very funny in a weird and twisted way. K-Ming Chang is  young author to keep an eye on I look forward to checking out some of her other works. 

You can read this story HERE.

Me and Miss Mandible by Donald Barthelme

Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul."

No, this story was not adapted into the 90's comedy 'Billy Madison' starring Adam Sandler although it shares a similar premise. 

It seems fitting that my last review for April would be a short-story by Donald Barthelme. He has dominated my reading hours this month and every time I finish one of his stories, I get the sudden urge to seek out another story and then another...at this rate, I might even finish his "Sixty Stories" collections by the end of May. He's a master of the unexpected and I am always excited to discover what other delightful literary tricks he has up his sleeve. "Me and Miss Mandible" is one of his earlier works and would make a great companion piece to "The School", both satires of a flawed education system and focusing on children in the classroom. However, in this story, the protagonist is a man-child. As an ironic nod to Kafka's "Metamorphosis", Joseph is a 35-year old insurance salesman that finds himself inexplicably thrust back into sixth grade (hence, the above Billy Madison reference). 

Though the narrative flirts with science fiction through its ambiguous time-travel premise, its essence aligns more with the Kafkaesque—where surrealism and absurdity converge to entrap the protagonist within a education system built on superfluous repetition. He is stuck in his own twisted version of "Groundhogs Day" repeating the same classroom experiences over and over again. Paradoxically, he believes returning to the past is an opportunity to reclaim invaluable lessons and forge new paths, resolving the challenges in his adult life (fired from the insurance job, broken marriage, etc). Yet, it's the systemic failure and deceit within the education system that have led to the missteps landing him in this predicament. By conforming to the rules, he ends up falling right back into the same classroom routines and behavioral patterns forced upon children during middle-school--empty and pointless, with very little application to the real world. I have always wondered why we had to learn trigonometry or the Napoleonic wars instead of being taught important life skills such as how to file taxes, repair a leaking faucet or write a proper resume. 

The narrative is broken up into various diary entries, beginning with a boyhood fantasy where the homeroom teacher, Miss Mandible, wants to seduce him: 

Miss Mandible wants to make love with me but she hesitates because I am officially a child; I am, according to the card index in the principal's office, eleven years old. There is a misconception here, one that I haven't quite managed to get cleared up yet. I am in fact thirty-five, I've been in the Army, I am six feet one, I have hair in the appropriate places, my voice is a baritone, I know very well what to do with Miss Mandible if she ever makes up her mind."

It is not made clear if she perceives Joseph as an adult or a younger version of himself, which makes their relationship all the more disturbing. Similar to other Barthelme stories, the protagonist's identity is fractured with a mixed doubling effect at play. He greatly anticipates reliving his first sexual experience with an older woman and when they finally do get caught hooking up in the cloakroom, the consequences are even more absurd. She is properly dismissed for having sex with a minor ("ruined but fulfilled") but he cannot successfully convince the school authorities that he is as much to blame here as an adult. They can only see him as an innocent young kid that was taken advantage of by an older woman. He finds their final decision completely baffling and excoriates them as fools: "They are as dense as ever." 

His only real punishment is to be sent back to class, forced to endure these continual patterns of repetition until he can break the cycle by ignoring the worthless classroom lessons. "We read signs as promises" encapsulates Barthelme's primary focus in this story. The protagonist must recognize that these signs are deceiving and often misrepresentations of truth. This prompts the question: If society systematically imposes these false signs upon us at such a young age, how can we pierce the veil of this delusion as adults? Barthelme seems to suggest that we must question these signs with a more critical eye and develop new ways of interpreting them. That's my takeaway here but there are so many different ways to approach this text. He's a true stylistic virtuoso I'm consistently astounded by the depth and thought-provoking nature of his entertaining short stories.

You can read this story HERE.

Robert Kennedy Saved from Drowning by Donald Barthelme

K. Puzzled by His Children.

There is something slightly foreboding about this short-story, which was written a few months before Robert Kennedy’s assassination on June 6, 1968. Consisting of 24 segments, Barthelme's satire of journalistic "truth" is fictionalized, obfuscated, deconstructed and parodied in his typical postmodern avant-garde style. The author creates a patchwork representation of a popular political figure who still remains an enigma. His identity is continually fractured and displaced. Similar to the 'Marivaudian being' mentioned near the story's end, he is "a pastless futureless man, born anew at every instant." In other words, he exists within a disjointed nonlinear reality, outside time and space. Attempting to reconstruct Robert Kennedy's life and grasp the essence of this man through language proves to be a futile endeavor. When we reminisce about those who have departed, it's not by following a chronological biography; instead, we cherish specific moments—whether trivial or profound—that resonate with us.

Hence, the third-person objective narrator refers to Robert Kennedy as "K." and the reader is presented with a series of random fragmented anecdotes/observations: "K. at His Desk," K. Reading the Newspaper", "K. Puzzled by His Children" (possibly my favorite section). Some sections are more interesting than others, which only offer us a mere glimpse, a brief snapshot into his personal and public life. We are also presented with various accounts from different people who knew him: his secretary, former teacher, a friend. These different perspectives reveal multiple layers of meaning but since K. is constantly "born anew", his fixed identity always remains a conundrum. Barthelme's playful technique of shaping meaning through humor, ambiguity, juxtapositions and manipulation of language also further complicates our understanding of K. There is also an elusive "I" that makes an appearance, most importantly, in the final segment where they save K. from drowning in dramatic fashion, in which he tersely responds: "Thank you." It's a beautifully moving scene but also quite eerie. 

You can read this story HERE.

A Cosmopolite in a Café by O. Henry

lya Repin, Parisian Café (Le Cafе du Boulevard), 1875, oil on canvas.

I wasn't exactly planning on a Monday double-feature of O. Henry short-stories, but there you have it. "A Cosmopolite in a Café" was slightly disappointing and probably the first misstep that I have encountered with the author's work so far. O. Henry's signature blend of sharp wit and eloquent prose remains intact but this particular story lacks staying power. His best stories are elevated by their ingenious twist endings, yet in this instance, the absence of a truly memorable conclusion threatens to consign it to obscurity amidst the vast expanse of his literary oeuvre.

The author paints a vibrant scene with his vivid descriptions of a late-night Parisian café bursting to life with its cacophony of lively music, animated chatter, raucous laughter and swirling tendrils of cigarette smoke. Amongst the bustling crowd of diverse patrons, the narrator's excitement peaks when a distinguished figure, E. Rushmore Coglan (a name that practically dances off the tongue!), takes a seat at his table. Much to his amazement, he swiftly discerns that he is in the presence of a true cosmopolite, far beyond a mere globe-trotter. This is no ordinary traveler; rather, this is an individual who embodies a profound curiosity for  global cultures, languages, and traditions. In awe, he realizes that this remarkable cosmopolite not only traverses the world's expanse (12 times!) but also immerses themselves deeply in the myriad hues of human experience (a "citizen of the terrestrial sphere"). As a true cosmopolite, one of his key arguments is that someone's place of birth is irrelevant and should not be intrinsically linked to their identity or self-worth. This point of contention will become important at the end.

As Coglan regales the narrator with his mesmerizing adventures from far-flung corners of the world, one cannot help but be captivated alongside with him. However, despite the allure of these fantastical narratives, a lingering question emerges: are these tales genuine expressions of lived experiences, or are they the clever fabrications of a masterful charlatan? Skepticism is engendered as the thin line between truth and artifice becomes increasingly blurred. My primary issue with the twist ending lies in O. Henry's prolonged setup for a punchline that ultimately fails to deliver the intended impact. Ultimately, the ironic humor falls flat and leaves me questioning whether the payoff was truly worth all that buildup.

The Green Door by O. Henry

Enter if you dare.

Here is another decent short story by O. Henry that accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do. However, its "twist ending" is somewhat lackluster and the author's overt racism is difficult to overlook. The protagonist's encounter with the "giant negro" is laughably cringe-inducing. Negative criticism aside, O. Henry's acerbic wit, ironic humor, and refined writing style save this from being a total disaster. 

The opening section charmingly engages the reader with a playful, tongue-in-cheek tone, providing a lengthy philosophical exploration contrasting true adventurers with those who only dabble as half-adventurers. The narrator muses that the majority of us fall into the latter category, seeking safety, routine, and the comfort of complacency. In contrast, Rudolf Steiner is the shining example of a true adventurer—an exceptional rarity in modern society. He embodies the spirit of risk-taking, eagerly venturing beyond his comfort zone, fueled by curiosity, and embarking on a quest to discover the mysterious green door, not knowing where the outcome might lead him. Once more, the twist ending may lack the expected O Henry razzle-dazzle, but it effectively brings the narrative full circle, wrapping up all loose ends with a neat little bow.

B.F. and Me by Lucia Berlin

A literary genius? Possibly.

Now back to our regular scheduled programming. I am drastically falling behind with reviews and need to catch up fast before many of these stories, even the really good ones like "B.F. and Me" by Lucia Berlin, fade from memory. She's a new discovery and it is safe to say, that I can't wait to read more of her work. Berlin's sentences bounce along at a brisk pace with tremendous energy, immediacy and wit but somehow manages to maintain a soft quality--light, airy and delicate that is oddly charming. Within the confined canvas of the short-story form, her ability to convey the complexities of human emotions and relationships through a light sketch is worthy of admiration.

The premise is quite simple: a lonely older woman has a crush on an eccentric, rough-looking handyman tasked with repairing her bathroom floor. That's it. Although this might sound like a cliché plot device in a pornographic movie, the author circumvents such expectations. There certainly exists an underlying sexual tension between the two characters but the emphasis here is on elevating the mundane into the profound through sharp observational humor. For example, "Bad smells can be nice. A faint odor of skunk in the woods. Horse manure at the races." These "bad smells" are amusing in their contradictions and from a certain perspective, could actually be true. Or, what about this funny passage: "He said he could probably use some of that air of mine. I told him he should get him a tank but he said he was afraid he'd blow himself up smoking." The author unleashes a barrage of comedic and razor-sharp zingers that further contribute to the fast-paced narrative. The snappy dialogue crackles with authenticity and delightful quirkiness. What truly distinguishes Berlin's writing, however, is the breakneck speed at which the narrative unfolds, propelled by a succinct and dynamic storytelling style. 

From my research, Lucia Berlin often incorporated autobiographical details into her writing. Similar to the protagonist, she also lived in Boulder Colorado and faced various health issues such as requiring an oxygen tank for many years until her final days. This lends an unparalleled authenticity, relatability and emotional resonance to her stories, illuminating the struggles of everyday life. By drawing on her own experiences, the social realism is imbued with a sense of verisimilitude and genuine emotions but still remains very funny.

Lucia Berlin is just an absolute joy to read and it is a shame that she never received proper recognition during her lifetime. Stay tuned for a weekly retrospective where I plan on reviewing several other stories from her excellent collection, "A Manual for Cleaning Woman" that was published posthumously.