Ghosting by Wendy Wimmer

Pills or exercise?

I really wanted to enjoy this story more. Wendy Wimmer is another new author for me and "Ghosting" certainly has its merits. The first-person narrative voice is bold and refreshing. Grace is struggling with weight issues and taking care of her ailing mother who has been diagnosed with some form of dementia. The tragicomic narratives gives way to some funny self-deprecating humor, especially pertaining to her weight loss journey. She begins taking these diet pills that have a tremendous impact on her body, especially when it comes to bowel movements. While the poop humor might not appeal to everyone's taste, the author manages to infuse enough witty playfulness where the graphic details are actually funny.  

I kind of wish the story focused more on the narrator's personal struggles with food, fatness and fatphobia. The narrative's momentum and comedic charm abruptly dissipates as it shifts towards the the mother/daughter relationship. This pivotal emotional arc, intended to serve as the story's centerpiece, unfortunately falls flat, leaving the remainder of the narrative to sluggishly meander towards a lackluster finale. Wendy Wimmer is now on my radar but I probably won't be rushing out to read the rest of her debut collection.

You can read this story HERE.

The Other Woman by Sherwood Anderson (1921)

This cigar store is going to be lit.

Unfortunately, I am still waiting for Sherwood Anderson to 'wow' me and it hasn't quite happened yet. Call it intuition, but it's merely a matter of time before I stumble upon one his short-stories that deeply resonates with me. When that moment arrives, I anticipate gaining a a more thorough understanding of why he is revered as one of the great short-story writers of the early 20th century. The talent is clearly there--the narrative flows seamlessly and Anderson's vivid sense of realism is on point. His portrayal of the psychological intricacies and struggles of ordinary people grappling with everyday challenges is well-conceived. Yet, there is something about his austere and restrained style of writing, which prevents me from getting excited about picking up another one of his stories. 

As might be evident by the title, "The Other Woman" focuses on the subject of infidelity and the protagonist's internal struggle after having an affair with a woman who works at a cigar store. Anderson effectively uses the framing narrative technique (a story within a story) that mainly serves two functions: a) creates narrative distance between the narrator and his friend and b) the reader is presented with a more objective perspective to form their own opinion regarding the moral conduct of the adulterer. It would be easy to judge this man for having the pre-wedding jitters and cheating on his fiancé. Since the narrator is relaying the story that the protagonist is telling him, the truth is not always so clear-cut. More importantly, we never get the other woman's perspective. By gaining more insight into his motivations and thought process as he grapples with the consequences of his actions, there's a subtle attempt to elicit sympathy. However, it's ultimately left to the reader to form their own judgment on the matter.

You can read this story HERE.

The Overloaded Man by J.G. Ballard

Tick tock, tick tock.

2015 was a tumultuous time in my life and yet, I still thought it would be possible to read a massive collection of JG Ballard short stories and review them all. Ah, the charming follies of youth, brimming with unattainable reading aspirations! Well, truth be told, I was in my earlier thirties at the time but that's not important. Regardless, "The Overloaded Man" by J.G. Ballard confirmed that my earlier enthusiasm for this author's work has slightly waned. While this short story remains commendable, and Ballard's works undoubtedly retain their value, I might not indulge in devouring his stories with the same relentless fervor as before.

"Faulkner was slowly going insane" is a great opening line and effectively sets up the protagonist's mounting paranoia and fragmented psyche. The writing has a fever-dream and surreal quality that captures his descent into madness. There are some minor science-fiction elements here but this is not a time-traveling narrative. Rather, the author is interested in Faulkner's inner world and subjectivity that he is trying to erase. This process involves "stepping out of time", an attempt to escape capitalist oppression through complete self-effacement. As he moves further and further away from a coherent and stable identity, his objective reality begins to transform into abstraction. Things start to get even more weird once he learns to rearrange objects in his mind into geometric forms. 

The story's underlying pessimism highlights the profound disillusionment pertaining to individual freedom, human subjectivity and agency. The individual has been reduced to a nonhuman entity, an insignificant peon within the machinations of capitalist control. Or, at least, that's what I think Ballard is trying to convey here. Faulkner's inevitable demise is tragic but also an act of resistance through resignation, a final release from the capitalist system's controlling grasp. 

Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience™ by Rebecca Roanhorse

Justice is what I seek, Kemosabe.

My last review was quite lengthy, so I'll try and keep this one as brief as possible. I enjoyed this story a little bit more than the other Rebecca Roanhorse story I read earlier this month but similarly, it felt slightly underwhelming, never quite reaching its full potential. 

"Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience™" presents a somewhat interesting futuristic premise involving virtual reality that gives me serious Westworld vibes but without the intrigue, which serves mostly as a springboard to explore indigenous stereotypes and cultural appropriation. Ironically, as Indigenous culture has been tragically erased by the brutal forces of genocide and colonization, there emerges the possibility to resurrect this history through artificial simulation. Nevertheless, I find the author's exploration of these complex issues lacking much depth, merely scratching the surface. Furthermore, the portrayal of the "evil white man" seems forced and overly simplistic. The exaggerated absurdity of how the events unfold for our naive protagonist felt contrived from the get-go. While the story is decent, it leaves me with a lingering sensation that it had the potential to be memorable and more emotionally impactful.

You can read this story HERE.

Miss Lora by Junot Diaz

Are you trying to seduce me Miss Lora?

Narrative Voice and Masculinity in Junot Diaz’s ‘Miss Lora’

The second-person narrative voice in Junot Diaz’s collection of short stories, This is How You Lose Her, should not be overlooked simply as a stylistic flourish; rather, the pronoun “You” is an effective rhetorical technique allowing the narrator to self-fashion his own identity through a retrospective and critical lens. Many of the stories revolve around the character of Yunior and his failed relationships, especially ‘Miss Lora’, an unsettling yet emotionally resonant account of his sexual relationship with an older woman. This particular story marks a crucial turning point in Yunior’s life as he navigates family tragedy, his first love and community. With the recent death of his older brother, Rafa, who personified Dominican machismo, Yunior struggles to assert this inherited hegemonic masculinity over the more dominant Miss Lora. Additionally, the Dominican cultural ethos that fosters hypermasculinity prevents him from fully articulating his feelings and processing the painful grief from the insurmountable loss of his brother to cancer. Hence, the second-person narrative voice provides Yunior an opportunity to achieve catharsis and heal through the power of writing by maintaining a critical distance from himself.

Diaz is less concerned with establishing narrative continuity throughout these stories in favor of sketching out Yunior’s bildungsroman--namely, his complex emotional and psychological development from adolescence into adulthood. Instead of being written in the first-person that might otherwise come across as solipsistic, Diaz evokes playful humor and wit as Yunior becomes the narrator of his own life while addressing himself self-reflexively with the pronoun “You.” Diaz seamlessly conflates the subjective with the objective so that it becomes ambiguous whether Yunior as the narrator is reconstructing the past from an empirical perspective or through a literary imagination. As a writer himself, this elevated perspective is advantageous since Yunior is keen on examining his tumultuous life through reflective introspection, especially in understanding the “how” rather than “why” so many failed relationships with women like Miss Lora ended in heartbreak. 

This story begins with Yunior in the present contemplating the ramifications of a question his past self would later ask himself about his relationship with Miss Lora, which in essence becomes the short story: “Years later you would wonder if it hadn't been for your brother, would you have done it?” (149). Rafa’s influence on Yunior’s life and masculine identity in the Dominican diaspora is made explicit right from the opening rhetorical question. Within this specifically framed narrative structure, Yunior in the present becomes the omniscient narrator as he re-examines past experiences to figure out the manner or conditions behind “how” these different relationships with women inevitably resulted in loss. One way to grasp Diaz’s methodology is to distinguish Yunior as a self-conscious narrator interrogating his former self with what literary critic and scholar Wayne Booth refers to as “aesthetic distance” (156). Indeed, Yunior’s second-person narrative voice exists in this liminal space between objective and subjective reality that often becomes blurred. Since the narratee is himself, Yunior the “author” narrates a highly self-aware diegesis; that is to say, he is conscious of constructing his own personal narrative. An overt linguistic narcissism is engendered by this modality with particular emphasis on the transformative function of language. By establishing this “aesthetic distance” between his present and past self, Yunior attempts to achieve a certain level of closure or perhaps even catharsis through the creative writing process.

Moreover, Diaz effectively critiques hegemonic notions of Dominican masculinity through Yunior’s various relationships and sexual experiences with women. The narrator reflects on his younger days during those impressionable teenage years when hormones were raging: “You were at an age where you could fall in love with a girl over an expression, over a gesture. That’s what happened with your girlfriend, Paloma--she stooped to pick up her purse and your heart flew out of you. That’s what happened with Miss Lora, too” (154). To simply label Yunior as a typical male teenager obsessed with sex would be to miss the important underlying subtext--he is trying to follow in the footsteps of his older brother and father who personified Dominican machismo. Yunior is sexually frustrated with Paloma and feels utterly rejected since she constantly refuses to sleep with him. For example, he makes a sexist comment about Paloma not conforming to cultural stereotypes: “Only Puerto Rican girl on earth who wouldn’t give up the ass for any reason” (155). Yunior’s misogyny towards women is indicative of gendered cultural norms and remains consistent throughout most of these stories in the collection. The narrator self-fashions a Dominican masculine identity by adopting ubiquitous and culturally imposed gender scripts. Yunior’s refusal to eschew his inherited Dominican machismo inevitably leads to Paloma leaving him. 

Yet, early on in their relationship, she still seeks intimacy but is afraid of getting pregnant. Her future plans do not revolve around having children and struggling in poverty, which happens to be the case for many young Latin-Caribbean women such as her mother. She lives in a tiny cramped apartment with four younger siblings and is focused on making a better life for herself and family. Paloma is hardworking and determined to achieve a certain level of social mobility by pursuing higher education: “Imagine if I don’t get in anywhere, she said. You’d still have me, you tried to reassure her, but Paloma looked at you like the apocalypse would be preferable” (150). Paloma is a strong independent woman with enough foresight to recognize that Yunior is only interested in having sex with her rather than focusing on building a life together. The narrator humorously pokes fun at his former self for even trying to convince Paloma that he is serious about their relationship and will take care of her needs. She is keenly aware of his lascivious mind and prurient interests, even warning him about Miss Lora who has built a reputation for being a promiscuous woman or sucia (slang for “filthy” or “dirty” with lewd connotations): “You’d better not fuck her” (157). Paloma consistently undermines Yunior’s tentative masculine authority and remains steadfast in her convictions. Of course, despite this ultimatum, Yunior still goes ahead and cheats on her with Miss Lora, a schoolteacher in her mid-forties who also lives in the same neighborhood. Both Paloma and Miss Lora highlight the different ways in which Latin-Caribbean women subvert the hierarchical masculinization of power. Moreover, they refuse to merely assume a passive role and maintain control over their own sexuality.

The gender dynamics in this story are not entirely fixated on women being sexually obedient towards men in accordance with patriarchal gender discourses. Rather, Diaz emphasizes that while Yunior tends to embody this norm, he also ironically occupies a more submissive role, especially with Miss Lora since she is the one who seduces him and readily asserts more power in the relationship. He can barely comprehend the unorthodox situation of having an older woman being attracted to him but is more than willing to see it through if it means the possibility of sex: “It is the first time any girl ever wanted you. And so you sit with it. Let it roll around in the channels of your mind. This is nuts, you say to yourself” (156). Despite having reservations, Miss Lora’s sexual allure is far too tempting. However, it is important to note that Yunior is not initially attracted to her on a physical level, perhaps suggesting that they both share a much deeper and emotional connection: “Miss Lora was too skinny. Had no hips whatsoever. No breasts, either, no ass, even her hair failed to make the grade. She had her eyes, sure, but what she was most famous for in the neighborhood were her muscles” (153-154). Notice that Yunior’s superficial attitude towards Miss Lora (including women in general) also shows that she does not conform to specific female gender roles or feminine standards of beauty since she is perceived as being masculine for having a muscular body.

The yearning for a physical relationship with Paloma and being rejected perhaps initially attracts Yunior to Miss Lora. However, it is their mutual interest in post-apocalyptic science fiction that draws them closer together. The story takes place in 1985 during the height of the Cold War when nuclear annihilation seemed inevitable. After the recent death of his brother, Yunior is both haunted by the impending apocalypse along with Rafa’s ghostly presence. His dreamlike visions of the world coming to an end can be linked to the inability to properly process his grief along with repressed feelings of loss and guilt. Suffering from depression and feeling isolated from those around him, Yunior misguidedly seeks solace in Miss Lora: “Maybe if you were someone else you would have the discipline to duck the whole thing but you are your father’s son and your brother’s brother” (158). According to the narrator, the decision to sleep with the older woman is already predetermined because of his cultural inheritance where Dominican men are socially conditioned to epitomize sexual virility. Once again, Yunior’s second-person narrative voice is highly critical of his younger self for upholding hegemonic notions of Dominican masculinity. In essence, this narrative technique provides Yunior with enough critical distance for the opportunity to critique his own character flaws as a young man struggling to assert his manhood:  

"Both your father and your brother were sucios. Shit, your father used to take you on his pussy runs, leave you in the car while he ran up into cribs to bone his girlfriends. Your brother was no better, boning girls in the bed next to yours. Sucios of the worst kind and now it’s official: you are one, too. You had hoped the gene missed you, skipped a generation, but clearly you were kidding yourself." (161)

Here, the narrator articulates young Yunior’s inner conflict between embracing his own individualism and self-fashioning an identity that embodies Dominican machismo. On the surface, he projects hypermasculinity but underneath that exterior front is a sensitive and impressionable science-fiction nerd who loves post-apocalyptic movies. Despite efforts to distance himself from being a “sucio” like his father and brother, Yunior cannot fully renounce this hegemonic masculinity that he considers to be genetic. The older Yunior is condescending towards his younger self for being naive and thinking that he would avoid becoming a womanizer just like the other Dominican men in his family. While he legitimizes his masculinity by having sex with Miss Lora, Yunior also fails to realize that she is the one using him for her own sexual fulfillment. After several romantic encounters she quickly leaves him for an older gentleman and eventually moves away once Yunior graduates high-school where he never sees or hears from her again. Yunior is heartbroken and angry at Miss Lora but these feelings are repressed since he conforms to the ideologies of Dominican machismo. Thus, it is only through the second-person narrative voice that a more mature Yunior emerges and offers perspicacious insight into his own shortcomings as an emotionally vulnerable youth.

This dichotomy between Yunior as the narrator and narratee focalized through a second-person narrative voice highlights his self-fashioning of identity. He learns about himself by reconstructing his own personal narrative and telling himself this story. Through this creative process, Yunior develops a deeper understanding of himself, especially in relation to hegemonic notions of Dominican masculinity. Moreover, both Miss Lora and Paloma represent female resistance against such rigid gender norms. Having gone through such tremendous loss, whether it be the death of his brother or the tumultuous relationship with Miss Lora, this narrative framework provides Yunior with a literary space for artistic and emotional expression.

The Great Silence by Ted Chiang

My name isn't Polly and I don't like crackers.

An exploration of the fermi paradox and a talking parrot as the first-person narrator? Sold!

Ted Chiang is one of those special short-story writers that is on another level in terms of brilliant ideas supported by quality writing. He rarely ever disappoints and almost every story I encounter is a mind-blowing experience. "The Great Silence" is definitely thought-provoking but not on the same level as some of his other works that make your head spin with their remarkable concepts.

Even thought it is only a few pages long, this story still contains tremendous depth and is surprisingly poignant. Humanity has been obsessed with making contact with distant alien lifeforms in space but what if these "aliens" have been on Earth the whole time as certain animals? In this case, parrots. Not an entirely new premise for SF but Chiang re-conceptualizes it by taking a more philosophical, religious and speculative approach. Parrots are highly intelligent creatures with the ability to communicate with humans but we only perceive them as birds, not advanced creatures from another planet. From an epistemological perspective, how can we be certain this is true? There are so many mysteries of the universe and the search for alien life might be closer than we think. 

You can read this story HERE.

The Ones Who Stay and Fight by N.K. Jemisin

 Afrofuturism.

N.K. Jemisin, renowned for her groundbreaking 'Broken Earth Trilogy,' continues to make waves in the SF/fantasy realm. While I've only read into the first two books of the series, they revealed an author of tremendous talent and boundless imagination. I found her unique spin on Afro-futurism and the distinct second-person narrative voice to be incredibly refreshing. Moreover, she seems to have picked up the mantle from Octavia Butler, who was instrumental in ushering in a new-wave of Black science-fiction authors. 

This short-story collection was one of my most anticipated reads last year. With a respectable author at the helm, a great title, and beautiful cover art, my anticipation soared. Yet, due to procrastination and various other life stuff, I only ended up reading one story from it. While that single narrative was fantastic (review pending), I never returned to discover any other other hidden gems--until now. 

The first story to appear in this magnificent collection, "The Ones Who Stay and Fight", is an obvious nod to Ursula Le Guin's famous SF short story with a similar title: "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas." The intertextual connections might be apparent to anyone who is familiar with Le Guin's story, a haunting dystopian tale that explores themes of free will, equality and justice. I applaud N.K. Jemisin's for her ambitious endeavor to re-envision such an iconic work through a black cultural lens, despite the final outcome not achieving the intended emotional resonance. Personally, the narrative felt gimmicky and more of an homage with an ending that seemed predictably heavy-handed. On a more positive note, the world building is impressive and the author showcases her mastery of the second-person narrative voice. By directly addressing the reader as "you" this narrative technique not only envelops the reader within the fantastical setting but also serves a rhetorical purpose, compelling you to align with the narrator's distinct sociopolitical viewpoint, which unfortunately, happens to be a little on the nose.

The Moral Virologist by Greg Egan

Playing God in a science lab.

The premise of this story is chilling, and given our current post-COVID-19 reality, it only amplifies the sense of dread it evokes. "The Moral Virologist" employs the classic 'mad scientist' trope, presenting a supervillain origin story with a slight twist. Shawcross is an ultraconservative, right-wing individual, deeply entrenched in Christian religious beliefs, and fervently homophobic. He is on a mission to purge the world of all homosexuals and adulterers. 

This god complex will ultimately be his downfall although the author isn't going for originality. Rather, a substantial portion of the story focuses on the complex science underlying Shawcross's development of the virus, its various mutations, and the alarming pace at which it spreads across the globe. The author displays a great deal of skill to balance the hard-science fiction elements with philosophical introspection in a captivating way that doesn't just become insufferable gibberish. While the story may taper off slightly towards the end, it remains a commendable contribution from an author of considerable talent.

Giving Blood by John Updike

Please roll up your sleeves.

It has been a while since I've read anything by John Updike and "Giving Blood" reminds me why it was necessary to take a hiatus. I can appreciate the author's literary technique but the explicit misogyny and toxic masculinity can be a bit much at times. Updike's realistic portrayal of marital difficulties is his specialty and it makes sense that many critics have labeled his writing as autobiographical. The familiar adage that 'a writer writes what they know' resonates strongly with Updike's penchant for capturing life's ordinary moments. It wouldn't be far-fetched to imagine that this story draws inspiration from his own personal life experiences. Updike's seamless ability to elevate the commonplace and turning the mundane into something remarkable is one of the main reasons that I find myself returning to his work.

The tension between Richard and Joan Maple is palpable as they drive to a Boston Hospital to donate blood for some distant relative undergoing a serious operation. The couple is bickering and during their argument, he accuses her of flirting with another man at a party the previous night. He is also sexually frustrated and blames her for their lack of physical intimacy. Dude, needs to chill. Even though it is a small detail and never mentioned again, Richard casually tries to shift the conversation, inquiring about the well-being of their baby, named Bean (maybe it's a nickname?). We learn that Bean had a fever of 102 degrees and the Maples thought it would a good decision to leave their sick child with a babysitter to attend the party. What kind of irresponsible and neglectful parents are these?! 

Updike effectively conveys the emotional and physical disconnection between the couple. However, through their bizarre and shared experience of giving blood, they find a renewed sense of appreciation for each other and a rekindling of the love that had begun to wane, due to work, kids and life getting in the way. By sharing a moment of physical closeness and emotional vulnerability in the blood donation room, they are able to reconnect on a deeper level. As they are leaving the hospital, they have this sweet and beautiful moment together and I might have been willing to give this story a more favorable review if it ended here. Instead, we follow the couple as they celebrate their rekindled love over pancakes at a diner and Updike casually drops this doozy: "Eve was their sitter, a little bony girl from down the street who would, in exactly a year, Richard calculated, be painfully lovely." It's these kind of misogynistic and disconcerting moments in Updike's writing that tends to be quite off-putting. If Updike aimed to depict Richard as a creepy, self-centered, and sex-obsessed middle-aged white man, he certainly achieves his goal.

The Frolic by Thomas Ligotti

Ummmm...yeah.

This disturbing cover art pretty much sums up what you're getting with a Thomas Ligotti story. He fully embraces the macabre and the grotesque to create a unique blend of supernatural horror. Essentially, it is the stuff of nightmares. The H.P. Lovecraft comparisons are valid but Ligotti's postmodernist 'weird fiction' feels different somehow, as if he is subverting various horror tropes and imbues them with a sense that something else is going on behind these appearances. In "The Frolic", a psychiatrist works at a small-town insane asylum. After returning home from work one evening, he tells his wife about a strange patient of his who is a child predator. That's all you really need to know about the plot if you are brave enough to take the plunge into Thomas Liggoti's twisted mind. The weird horror elements of this story are insidious. It gradually permeates this couple's normal existence where a new unreality takes precedence through the supernatural and these malevolent forces defy rational explanation. While this is not the type of genre that generally appeals to me, I am curious to see what else Ligotti has to offer. However, given the unsettling impact of this story, I might need some time to recover before diving into another one from this collection. 

Pepperoni by Donald Barthelme

Now I'm getting hungry.

Even when Donald Barthelme misses the mark and presents a less-than-stellar short story, their brevity usually prevents me from feeling completely disappointed. That's the beauty and of the short-story form. You can spend a brief amount of time engaging with the text, anticipating that it will leave some kind of an impression, evoke a certain emotion or enrich your life in some way. If it fails to do so, you simply shrug it off and move on to the next one. If anything, I'm more let down that a story called "Pepperoni" has nothing to do with pizza. It appears once in passing in relation to an article being published by a successful newspaper and media conglomerate. In a snapshot overview, the author presents random details and silly anecdotes concerning the company's management structure. While it's possible he aims to impart a blend of humor and profundity about capitalism or bureaucracy, the attempt feels somewhat superficial. My impression is that this story served as a mere warm-up exercise for the author, akin to cracking one's knuckles, before turning his attention to more substantial literary endeavors.

Angel Levine by Bernard Malamud

Oh that my grief were throughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together!

I'm conflicted. "Angel Levine" is a well-crafted 'contemporary' re-telling of the biblical parable of Job within a Jewish context, yet it relies on explicit racism and stereotypes--more specifically, its portrayal of African Americans. Or as the author casually refers to them: Negroes. 

Similar to Job, the protagonist Manischevitz also undergoes a crisis of faith. He believes God is unjust and is being wrongfully punished. Granted, life has not always been kind to poor old Manischevitz. His son was killed it the war (presumably WW2), his daughter ran away with some putz, his wife is on her deathbed, his business burned to ground, he has health issues, he lives in a tiny drab apartment and can't seem to find steady employment due to antisemitism. 

Yikes, that's rough. 

Both Manischevitz and Job question their faith in God due to their suffering. They each grapple with the idea of divine justice and are visited by an angel that helps restore their faith. In the case of Manischevitz, he is quite shocked to find a Negro man in his kitchen claiming to be an angel sent by God to help him. Black Jews do exist, like Sammy Davis Jr. Turns out that when Levine isn't performing his angel duties, he has a part-time gig as a pimp in Harlem. Just another typical negro vocation. 

Malamud sprinkles in some magical realism, employs more anti-black racism, including derogatory jive talk and ends the story with Manischevitz's spiritual awakening just like in the book of Job. Thus, while this story may have some merit as a literary work, the racial representation is problematic.

Bears Discover Fire by Terry Bisson

The ring of fire, the ring of fire.

My first introduction to Terry Bisson was his excellent SF short-story entitled "They're Made Out of Meat", a hilarious alien encounter story comprising entirely of dialogue (I really do need to write a review at some point). It was very short, clever and witty. This one feels completely different in terms of style and tone, perhaps indicative of Bisson's versality as a writer. Here, the tone is much more more serious and subdued. Most strikingly, it is devoid of any humor. The mundane is juxtaposed with elements of the fantastic as indicated by the title and while this premise may pique curiosity, it takes a backseat to the true essence of Bisson's narrative. The author is far more interested in exploring family dynamics, delving into themes of forgiveness, acceptance, and processing grief. The protagonist's relationship with his nephew and dying mother form the emotional centerpiece of the story. Unfortunately, while the climax aims for profound significance, it falls slightly short due to some sluggish pacing issues. 

One could certainly argue that this story doesn't neatly fit within the confines of traditional science fiction, given the absence of any attempt to rationalize the phenomenon. These unique bears simply exist within the natural world, devoid of scientific explanation. It is a bold and unconventional creative choice. Nevertheless, the story can be quite dull at times and probably could have used more bears doing cool stuff with fire. 

In keeping with the spirited essence of this blog's namesake, I find myself in the midst of a delightful 'literary frenzy,' voraciously devouring short stories at a rapid pace with the intention of reaching certain ambitious reading goals. Unfortunately, I suspect that "Bears Discover Fire" is bound to be forgotten in the shuffle. 

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

Full. Metal. Jacket.

I now have a much better understanding as to why "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien is often anthologized and considered one of the greatest short-stories of the 20th century. Suffice it to say, it certainly lives up to the hype. In a meticulously condensed portrayal, the author provides a snapshot of the harrowing realities and psychological toll of the Vietnam War. Through a dynamic narrative lens, we are granted access to the American soldier's traumatic experiences as they march aimlessly towards potential death. 

In a manner reminiscent of a meticulously conducted scientific inquiry or an immersive documentary, the narrative unfolds with pedagogical precision, listing the plethora of physical items each soldier bears, even down to the minutiae of their weight. From chewing gum and rations to burdensome loads of ammunition and weaponry, every item carries its own weight, both literally and metaphorically. This narrative approach is profoundly effective, granting readers a more intimate understanding of the soldiers' physical burdens. As we witness their arduous journeys through dense jungles and unforgiving terrain, we are confronted with the sheer resilience and endurance demanded of these individuals. Their physical exertions, as conveyed through the narrative, stand as a testament to their extraordinary fortitude in the face of adversity. Of course, each soldier also carries the emotional weight of fear, loss, guilt, shame and responsibility to each other as a unit that often goes unspoken. 

From a critical analysis perspective, there are so many different approaches to understanding the story's complex depth. The most interesting aspect for me is the photograph of Martha, carried by Lieutenant Jimmy Cross. Even though it is just a picture of his college sweetheart, she comes to life through his memories and becomes the emotional centerpiece of the story. She symbolizes innocence, normalcy and freedom. In essence, she exists merely as a fantasy in Jimmy's mind, an anchor to a life far removed from the horrors of war. The photograph becomes a sense of comfort and escapism, dreaming about a life together when his tour in Vietnam is over. As he gazes upon the photograph, the narrative seamlessly shifts into his personal reflections, providing valuable insight into his thought process and sense of character. However, we learn that Martha's true feelings for him were not made clear and he is desperately clinging to the hope that he can win her affections after the war. To avoid spoilers, I will refrain from saying much more on the subject but his final decision at the end in relation to Martha helps to reinforce some the story's important themes of guilt, duty and responsibility. 

A haunting and unforgettable short-story that will linger in my mind for a very long time to come.

The Golden Man by Philip K. Dick (1954)

Adam Warlock, the golden god.

Tell me if this premise sounds familiar: a government, gripped by fear, initiates a relentless crusade against mutants endowed with extraordinary powers. Driven by the dread of humanity's potential extinction at the hands of these superior beings, they've orchestrated a campaign of "euthanasia", leaving many mutants slain and the fortunate survivors are forced into hiding. Enter a determined government agent tasked with hunting down any remaining mutants in the country. Along the way, he encounters a remarkable young man, possessing a complexion akin to molten gold, blessed with supersonic speed and an intellect capable of navigating the intricacies of future events across its myriad possibilities. Does it ring a bell yet? 

While reading this story, I couldn't help but make the parallels to the iconic X-Men series and the figure of Adam Warlock. Yet, here's a tantalizing thought: could it be that the visionary mind of Stan Lee found inspiration in Philip K. Dick's "The Golden Man"? It's merely conjecture, but the notion holds a compelling allure. Nor am I accusing Lee of plagiarism. I just find it interesting that this story was published in 1954 and Adam Warlock's first appearance in the Marvel comics was 1967. 

Conjecture aside, the actual short-story is underwhelming, tedious and drawn-out. Not to mention, the blatant misogyny is off-putting and cringe-worthy. The narrative pacing is sluggish and mostly uneventful until the final act when the perspective shifts to the Golden Man, injecting a newfound intrigue into the tale. However, considering Dick's remuneration by word count for publication, one can hardly fault him for prolonging the narrative to earn his paycheck.

You can read this story HERE.

Burning Chrome by William Gibson

Burn, baby burn.

William Gibson is often considered one of the pioneers of 1980's cyberpunk science-fiction and his influence on the genre is unprecedented. He clearly had a substantial impact on the writing of Greg Egan (I reviewed several of his short-stories recently), especially in terms of literary style and atmosphere. 

"Burning Chrome" is pure sensory and information overload. The fast-pasted narrative is a disorienting adrenaline rush with its onslaught of techno-jargon and amorphous world-building. This futuristic society is a film noir-like dystopia of claustrophobic urban sprawls,  seedy back-alleys, bustling cyber-cafes, and bright neon lights where technology has run amok. 

The narrator, Automatic Jack, is a hustler known for his cybernetic arm. His best friend Bobby is a "cowboy", which refers to a highly skilled hacker that spends a lot of time plugged into cyberspace, breaking into various computer systems to steal valuable data. Through a series of flashbacks, Jack recounts their dangerous attempt to hack into the highly complex database called Chrome (makes me wonder if Google Chrome was influenced by this story). Or at least, that seems to be the basis of the plot? The narrative deliberately eschews explanations, entwining itself in a labyrinthine web of ambiguity and complexity, thus crafting an immersive and hallucinatory journey for the reader. 

Characters drift in and out of the story, operating in the shadows, further contributing to the sense of mystery and moral ambiguity. The two friends eventually meet a femme-fatale named Rikki at the cafe and Bobby quickly becomes infatuated. Her interest in augmented cybernetics hints at a deeper connection to the technological underbelly of the story's world, suggesting a possible involvement in clandestine activities or subversive agendas. This ambiguity surrounding Rikki's character leaves readers questioning her true allegiance and purpose, heightening the sense of mystery and unpredictability.

Darko Suvin's theory of cognitive estrangement would perfectly apply to a cyberpunk story like "Burning Chrome" because there is a recognition of various elements but it is juxtaposed with the strange, unfamiliar and uncanny. Any readers looking to find deep characterization or a well-defined story is bound to be disappointed. William Gibson is all about style and literary technique while creating an atmosphere of cyberpunk ambiance overflowing with coolness. There is much to be said about an author's literary talents to produce an enigmatic narrative that is utterly confusing with perplexing twists and turns, yet I found myself fully engaged from start to finish.

Porcupines at the University by Donald Barthelme

Prickly scholars.

Admittedly, it was the quirky title that immediately caught my attention and made me want to read this story. In the postmodernist tradition, conventional narrative forms are thrown out the window in favor of embracing the absurd as a kaleidoscopic reflection of the fragmented vision of reality. The emphasis is placed on incoherence, the preposterous, disarray and chaos. This total lack of so-called realism further highlights the tension between fiction and reality often found in Barthelme's work. 

The plot makes absolutely no sense and I suppose that's the whole point. All you really need to know is that it does contain porcupines, although not cute ones dressed in graduation robes as seen in the above image. I just thought it was cute. In this story, these animals are more of a nuisance and thousands of them are being herded across campus grounds by an older man with aspirations to be a famous musician on the Vegas strip. The dean of the university decides to take matters into his own hands by shooting them all with a Gatling gun on his wagon, that is very reminiscent of the famous scene in the original Django movie (not the Tarantino version). See? Complete nonsense.

Every aspect of this story is baffling and left me confused. Is it a supposed to be parody or satire on academic life? Also, why porcupines? What are they suppose to represent or symbolize? Beats me. Any underlying sociopolitical commentary went completely over my head. By now, I am used to his particular brand of outlandish humor but it didn't quite resonate with me as much. Nevertheless, it's short enough and slightly amusing at times to not be a complete waste of time.

Mono No Aware by Ken Liu

The Hopeful.

Ken Liu is quickly becoming one of my favorite short-story writers and his collection, "The Paper Menagerie" is filled with powerful imagination, evocative prose, tenderness and heartbreak. My goal is to review each story from this stunning collection and today we are starting with "Mono No Aware", which absolutely floored me. It is difficult to explain but there is a softness to Liu's lyrical prose combined with an underlying melancholy that just tugs on the heartstrings. 

The narrative unfolds with a familiar premise to the science fiction genre: Earth is destroyed during a catastrophic asteroid strike. During the evacuation, only a small number of humans can board a large vessel that is tasked to find another habitable planet for humanity to start over. This trope has been used countless times and is invariably cliché. However, in this story, it serves mainly as a backdrop for Liu to focus on rendering characters with striking authenticity while exploring themes of family, love, loss, sacrifice and the transitory nature of human existence. Indeed, the term mono no aware is a Japanese phrase meaning the awareness of impermanence and appreciating the fleeting beauty of life. By blending elements of science fiction with deep philosophical musings, the story transcends its genre trappings to offer a universal meditation on the human condition. In doing so, "Mono no Aware" achieves a rare and haunting pathos reminding us of the beauty and fragility of life itself. 

The story gains its emotional power through the character Hiroto, our first-person narrator and central protagonist. His poignant philosophical reflections and childhood flashbacks form the emotional core of the narrative. More specifically, the deeply cherished bond with his father amidst the chaos of Earth's impending destruction, serve as the beating heart of the story, infusing it with profound emotional depth and resonance. 

As the final act unfolds, it becomes evident that "Mono no Aware" is a narrative that eschews haste, opting instead for a deliberate and measured pace. Ken Liu's impressive storytelling technique is on full display as he carefully constructs each scene with precision, allowing the tension to simmer and the emotional stakes to heighten. Through patient and deliberate strokes, Liu guides the reader on a journey of personal revelation, culminating in Hiroto's momentous decision that holds the fate of humanity in the balance. This deliberate pacing not only serves to intensify the narrative's emotional impact but also underscores its rich thematic depth.

The Garbage Collector by Ray Bradbury

🎵 "The Garbage man can! The Garbage man can, he does it with a smile and never judges you!"

The specter of nuclear annihilation looms large in Ray Bradbury's oeuvre, reflecting the pervasive anxiety of the Cold War era in which he thrived as a prominent writer. It's no surprise that the fear of the world's end held a prominent place in his creative consciousness. In this grim narrative, set against the backdrop of potential devastation, a garbage man grapples with the moral dilemma of either adhering to his duties or forsaking them when a new government mandate dictates that garbage trucks must transition to collecting the deceased in the aftermath of an atomic blast.

Bradbury's mastery shines through in his ability to craft short-stories that, while seemingly straightforward, are imbued with evocative imagery, profound themes, and sharp prose. Beyond delving into apocalyptic fears, Bradbury demonstrates a keen insight into the intricacies of domestic life and the experiences of the working class. He deftly transforms the mundane and everyday struggles of ordinary people into narratives that are not only compelling but also possess an eerie and haunting bleakness. 

Death and What Comes Next by Terry Pratchett

Stop pontificating and die already!!

I have never read the Disc World novels or anything else by Terry Pratchett for that matter. Reading 'Death and What Comes Next' felt like a breeze—quick, amusing, and good for a few chuckles. Sometimes, that's all you can really ask for with a comedic short-story. 

So, a philosopher and Death walk into a bar...well, not really. They both meet and the philosopher attempts to outwit the inevitable by expounding on the complex issues of multiverses, morality, ethics, and free will. Yet, Death, unyielding and ever-patient, challenges the philosopher with its own brand of sophisticated logic. It's akin to witnessing a chess match between a seasoned champion and an eager novice. The champion here is Death, already foreseeing victory from the outset. Much to his annoyance, he decides to indulge his opponent, mostly to run out the clock or maybe impart a lesson in the process. Death cleverly lulls the philosopher into a false sense of security with the belief that referencing 'Schrödinger's cat' theory will be enough to tip the scales of victory in his favor. 

Death's response and the final punch-line is enough to make this story worth-while if you're looking for a good chuckle.

You can read this story HERE.

The Huntress by Sofia Samatar

Stealth mode, activated.

Here is another very short-story by an author that is new to me. "The Huntress" by Sofia Samatar only consists of eight small paragraphs and can be read before you even take a few sips of coffee. Yet, despite multiple readings, it still leaves me baffled and trying to explain the "plot" would be an exercise in futility. The vivid and poetic imagery is the most memorable aspect here. 

I'm picking up some serious magical realism vibes, and it's got all the fantasy fixings, but the plot is shrouded in more mystery than a wizard's cloak. Is it a parable, an allegory, a fable, or just some ancient folklore? Your guess is as good as mine, but hey, that's half the fun, right?

You can read this story HERE.

Embroidery by Ray Bradbury (1951)

Why panic when you can pick up a needle and thread?

On the eve of an impending nuclear annihilation, three older ladies are stitching embroidery on a porch. That's it. That's essentially the whole story in a nutshell. Simple and concise filled with beautiful prose and haunting imagery as to be expected from Mr. Bradbury. 

This is a very short-story, never outstaying its welcome while managing to convey a chilling sense of dread when facing imminent death. Instead of succumbing to panic, the friends embrace their inevitable fate with a poignant acceptance, opting to spend their final moments indulging in a cherished pastime together. 

The tight narrative structure ensures an economical use of language, consisting mostly of ambiguous dialogue that effectively builds tension as the looming threat grows closer. A stark contrast emerges as the ladies engage in the wholesome task of embroidery while the world teeters on the brink of complete destruction, evoking a poignant juxtaposition of normalcy against impending doom.