Monday, 10 February 2025

When it Changed by Joanna Russ

No flex zone! No flex zone!

Joanna Russ’ When It Changed is an unapologetically feminist twist on the classic first-contact narrative, and it doesn’t waste any time making its stance clear: men are the worst, and the patriarchy needs to go! This 1970s sci-fi short story remains highly anthologized, and for good reason—it’s a thought-provoking examination of gender, identity politics, and autonomy, all set against the backdrop of Whileaway, an all-female utopia where men have been extinct for centuries. 

And you know what? The women of Whileaway didn’t just survive without men—they thrived. Society flourished, technology advanced, and they built a world free from male oppression that once held them back. Relationships, love, and even family structures evolved, with women partnering with each other, raising children, and continuing the human race through advanced reproductive technology. The story subtly queers traditional notions of gender and sexuality, presenting a society where heterosexuality itself has become obsolete—until, of course, the men come back to ruin everything.

Enter the spaceship carrying these so-called "apes with human faces" and bodies "heavy as draft horses"—a perfect encapsulation of how alien and unwelcome men have become in this world. Their arrival isn’t just a disruption; it’s a threat of colonization, a harbinger of regression. The men show up expecting to be greeted as saviors, only to find that—oops!—they’re completely unnecessary. The women of Whileaway don’t swoon, don’t submit, and certainly don’t see their return as some grand restoration of balance. It’s a brilliant reversal of the classic sci-fi trope where male explorers “discover” alien worlds and impose their will. Here, the so-called invaders are the ones being sized up, dismissed, questioned and ultimately seen as relics of a past best left behind. The women of Whileaway have been doing just fine without them, thank you very much.

When It Changed is often considered a feminist sci-fi classic, and perhaps such a claim holds some merit. With its playful yet scathing critique of gender norms and power dynamics, the story still resonates today—maybe even more than ever. Sure, Russ’ politics are blunt (subtlety is not the goal here), but I suppose that’s why it has resonated with so many readers since it's publication over 50 years ago. It’s radical, defiant, and deeply queer—not just in its depiction of female relationships, but in its radical rejection of patriarchal structures altogether. It forces us to ask: what does gender really mean when one half of the binary is removed? And more importantly, what would a society look like if it were built entirely outside the shadow of male dominance? Russ gives us a glimpse—and while it may appear utopian, it’s also a challenge that can quickly turn dystopian when men remain in roles of power. 

Despite all these positive attributes, I can appreciate the story's political discourse but the actual story itself wasn't particularly engaging. The narrative felt more like a vehicle for its message rather than an immersive experience. While I respect its significance in feminist science fiction, I found myself more interested in the ideas it presented than the characters or plot itself.

Galaxy Girl and the November Monstrosity by Aleksandra Hill

I hope you like charred turkey.

I am slowly making way through all the short-stories featured on the Levar Burton Reads Podcast, and as a fan of comic books and superheroes, this particular title caught my attention. Let's face it, I'm a sucker for a cool title. 

The story follows a female superhero who would much rather be out beating up baddies and fighting crime than enduring an awkward Thanksgiving dinner with her passive-aggressive mom and overbearing sister. Despite her celebrity status as a superhero, she’s still considered the family screw-up—especially compared to her “perfect” sister, who can do no wrong in their mother’s eyes. But when that golden child decides to host Thanksgiving, things take an unexpected turn...particularly with the main course.

The story does exactly what you might expect from a contemporary piece of genre fiction: playing with familiar tropes and subverting expectations, but it’s not trying to flaunt its cleverness or reinvent the wheel. Galaxy girl is part of a team called The League of American Super-Humans (think X-Men or Avengers) with fire-based abilities, courtesy of a science experiment gone wrong. She wrestles with the whole gift or curse dilemma, further highlighting the cliches but the superhero angle isn’t really the main focus. At its core, it’s about the protagonist longing for acceptance, and maybe even a little love from her estranged family.

Overall, it’s a fun, quirky read that leans more into family drama than superhero spectacle—but sometimes, Thanksgiving dinner is the bigger battle than facing off against your arch nemesis. 


You can read this story HERE.

Sunday, 9 February 2025

The Adventure of the Western Star by Agatha Christie

West meets West. 

No, The Adventure of the Western Star wasn’t part of Fanda Classiclit’s Agatha Christie short-story reading challenge—probably for the best, because, it’s not exactly a gem (pun fully intended). In fact, this story pretty terrible and can be skipped. But after reading just one Hercule Poirot mystery, how could I possibly resist jumping straight into another? The man is addictive.

On paper, the premise is intriguing. Given the British Empire's long history of swiping valuables during their rampant colonizing, the idea of a mystery centered around the Chinese allegedly trying to steal back some precious jewels that actually belongs to them is oddly satisfying. Unfortunately, Christie takes this setup and runs it straight into a wall at full throttle with some of the most egregious stereotyping that I've come across in a long time. The Chinese characters are painted with such over-the-top, villainous brushstrokes that it’s almost cartoonish—except it’s not funny, just painfully outdated. I mean, if a Chinese person has slanted eyes, pigtails and dressed in a robe, he must be evil right? Oh, and the British Aristocracy also like to refer to them as "chinks." Ugh.

Not even Poirot’s delightful smugness or his ability to solve the case with a well-timed twirl of his mustache can rescue this one from mediocrity. The mystery itself is forgettable, the big reveal underwhelming, and the blatant racism makes it all the more difficult to enjoy. Safe to say, this Western Star lost its shine a long time ago.

The Adventure of the Cheap Flat by Agatha Christie

Tout doucement, mon ami.

Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot mysteries are some of my ultimate comfort reads. There’s just something so wonderfully cozy and delightful about them—like curling up with a warm cup of tea on a cold winter day. Jumping into a Poirot mystery can also feel like spending time with that one friend who definitely thinks they’re the smartest person in the room—and, annoyingly, they’re usually right. But with Poirot, it’s all part of the charm! His cases are always a treat, filled with sharp wit, brilliant deductions, and just the right amount of theatrical flair. Christie's fast-paced, crackling dialogue and witty banter always bring a smile to my face, especially when Poirot is trading quips with his ever-bewildered sidekick, Captain Hastings.

Now, The Adventure of the Cheap Flat is definitely one of those mysteries where you just have to sit back and enjoy the ride because it is utterly ridiculous. The central premise about an apartment that's suspiciously affordable because it might be linked to international espionage is delightfully absurd. And at one point, Poirot and Hastings break into the flat using a coal lift, which is as silly as it sounds and had me picturing the dapper detective covered in soot, grumbling about the indignity of it all.

The climactic reveal is a also bit underwhelming, but I'm not really here for shocking twists even though these are Christie's specialty. The real joy of these stories, for me, lies in Poirot’s ego and cleverness, Hastings’ charming obliviousness, and the way Christie skillfully ties everything together in a neat little bow within such a confined narrative space. 

I can overlook the many faults because the amusement factor is off the charts, and of course, you have the iconic Hercule Poirot at the center of it all. Where else will you find a detective who solves crimes with the sheer power of his "little grey cells" while also being the most gloriously vain and particular man to ever grace the pages of detective fiction? Poirot doesn’t just solve mysteries; he does it with bravado and stylistic flair. Don't forget his perfectly waxed mustache either. Poirot’s presence elevates the silly mystery to pure entertainment. He’s fussy, theatrical, and occasionally exasperating, but you can't help but love him. Whether he’s lamenting the English obsession with undercooked vegetables, condescendingly berating Hastings for his lack of deductive prowess, or casually outwitting international spies with relative ease, he’s always such a delight. So yes, the plot may be a bit far-fetched, but who cares? As long as Poirot is there to smugly explain it all, sign me up.

Understood by Ted Chiang

I sense the lingering presence of something...sinister.

Ted Chiang does it again! Understood is a gripping sci-fi thriller that will keep you hooked from start to finish, turning the pages with breathless anticipation. Its length may be slightly longer than the average short story, but it never feels that way. Ted Chiang's masterful storytelling, combined with a fascinating premise, keeps the pacing tight and the tension high. His writing is both precise and immersive, effortlessly drawing readers into the protagonist’s complex mind as he grapples with this newfound power.

The story follows a man who, after surviving a devastating accident, undergoes a new experimental medical treatment that not only saves his life but also grants him extraordinary intelligence. What follows is a thrilling internal exploration of his transformation and the consequences that come with these super powers. Not only is the government chasing him down but there is another figure lurking in the shadows who has undergone a similar procedure and wishes to make contact...

While comparisons to Flowers for Algernon are valid, Chiang takes a familiar genre trope of enhanced intelligence and puts his own unique spin on it. Understood leans into pure, adrenaline-fueled suspense with the cat-and-mouse game. It's less about philosophical or emotional introspection and more about the exhilarating possibilities—and dangers—of a mind evolving beyond human limits. The result is a fast-paced, mind-bending story that blends thought-provoking sci-fi with the intensity of a high-stakes thriller.

Friday, 7 February 2025

Negore, The Coward by Jack London

Ivan was one mean dude.

I wasn't planning on a Jack London double feature today, but here we are. While Negore, The Coward can certainly be criticized for its "westernized" portrayal of Indigenous people—an inevitable concern with a white author writing about them—that's not my focus here. If this kind of writing doesn't sit well with you, it's understandable. That being said, I’d argue that London presents a sympathetic view of these people as they resist Russian invaders led by Ivan the Terrible. It works well as an exciting adventure story, combining high-stakes survival, a dangerous enemy, and a protagonist with something to prove. After abandoning his people when the Russians attacked his village, will he succumb to cowardice or rise to the occasion? 

Set in the harsh Alaskan wilderness, the story immerses us in a world where survival hinges on endurance and adaptability. Nature itself is indifferent to human struggles, a defining trait of naturalist literature. As one of the pioneers of this movement, London employs his signature detached narrative style to explore themes of determinism and survival.

Negore’s journey is shaped by forces beyond his control—fear, honor, bravery, and sacrifice all intertwined with the social expectations of his community. At the heart of it, his love for Oona is the driving force to prove himself worthy, not just for her but to reclaim his lost dignity. His final act of defiance against foreign oppression is both powerful and moving. In the end, Negore’s triumph isn’t necessarily about traditional heroism but could also be influenced by instinct and necessity, perfectly aligning with naturalism’s core themes: the dominance of environment, heredity, and survival over free will. The author leaves the reader to consider if Negore is a true hero, or just a man making the only choice left to him.

The Hobo and the Fairy by Jack London


Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin' nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin' nobody to carry him home
Only a hobo, but one more is gone 
- Bob Dylan

Truth be told, I selected this Jack London short-story purely because of the intriguing title—The Hobo and the Fairy. There’s something striking about that contrast: the gritty, desperate world of a homeless drifter set against the whimsical innocence of a fairy. It hints at the tension at the heart of the story—poverty and hardship on one side, imagination and comfort on the other.

As expected, London’s socialist ideals run through the narrative, as they often do in his works. He had a deep empathy for the working class, the downtrodden souls ground beneath the relentless wheels of capitalism. But what makes this story compelling isn’t just its social commentary—it’s the way London crafts a moment of tenderness in an otherwise unforgiving world.

The story follows a hobo, a man named Ross Shanklin, hardened by life on the road, weary and hungry, accustomed to being treated with suspicion or outright hostility. But then he meets the little girl while sleeping in a field. She is innocent, untouched by the brutal realities of the world. To her, he is not a dangerous vagabond but something closer to a storybook character—an almost magical figure from a world beyond her own experience. In turn, he calls her a fairy, not just because of her golden curls and bright eyes, but because she represents something otherworldly to him: kindness, warmth, a moment of respite from his suffering:

| "This is fairy land, and you're a fairy. Mebbe I'm asleep and dreaming. I don't know. You and me don't know how to talk together, because, you see, you're a fairy and don't know nothing but good things, and I'm a man from the bad, wicked world." |

Their interaction is brief, but it forms the emotional crux of the story while evoking its key themes. The girl’s innocence allows her to extend generosity without judgment, something the hobo likely hasn’t encountered in a long time. And for a fleeting moment, he gets to step out of his harsh reality and into a softer, more forgiving world—if only in spirit. London contrasts the grimness of life on the margins with the untouched idealism of childhood, making us wonder if those two worlds can ever truly coincide harmoniously. It’s a quiet, bittersweet tale that, in just a few pages, manages to highlight both the cruelty of society and the small, luminous kindnesses that can still exist within it. 

The ending is quite bleak and cynical. After everything the hobo has endured throughout his difficult life, he’s left with a grim realization—no matter how much he dreads returning to society, the only alternative is death. London seems to be making a larger point about capitalism as an all-consuming force, one that functions like a totalitarian regime. No matter who you are, you’re trapped in the same fundamental reality: spend your life working or step outside the system and face starvation. The very concept of wage labor is framed as a form of servitude—selling your time, your energy, even your dignity just to survive. The so-called "freedom" to choose is nothing more than an illusion, a cruel trick played by capitalist society. It’s a powerful, unsettling message—one that still resonates today.

The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky by Stephen Crane

The train is due to arrive in Yellow Sky at 3:42.

Stephen Crane is one of those highly acclaimed early 20th-century American authors who somehow slipped through the cracks during my formative reading years. I’m glad I finally got around to him because The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky did not disappoint.

This story is, in many ways, an anti-western. It takes the myth of the Wild West—the lone gunslingers, the lawless frontier, the larger-than-life duels—and quietly dismantles it with sharp irony and an almost comedic sense of inevitability. Jack Potter is the classic western hero, a veteran town marshal returning to Yellow Sky. But this time, he isn’t facing off against a group of bandits with bravado and grit; he’s awkwardly bringing his new bride home, more concerned with domestic life than with being a larger-than-life lawman. She represents domesticity, order, change. The feared outlaw, Scratchy Wilson, is a relic of a bygone era, stumbling drunkenly into a confrontation that no longer holds any relevance. 

The anti-climactic showdown purposefully emphasizes that the untamed West has become a more civilized society, marking the end of an era. In what should have been the final dramatic gunfight between two Western archetypes, fizzles into an innocuous farewell. Crane effectively captures a world in transition—the frontier myth fading as civilization, marriage, and modernity creep in. There’s no climactic gunfight, no hero proving his dominance. Instead, there’s a sense of deflation, a humorous but bittersweet farewell to the Wild West.

Thursday, 6 February 2025

The Future Looks Good by Lesley Nneka Arimah

Lesley Nneka Arimah’s What It Means When a Man Falls From the Sky (great title, by the way) opens with The Future Looks Good, a story that feels like the author warming up—testing the waters with style and narrative form before hitting her stride in later, more memorable pieces.

The title is ironic, which will become most apparent with the dramatic ending that I will not spoil here. Arimah plays around with time, intertwining past, present, and future through a fragmented structure centered on Ezinma, the female protagonist. We are presented with a convoluted family history, intergenerational trauma, and the lingering effects of the Nigerian Civil War. Themes of womanhood, sibling rivalry, and misogyny also play a major role in the story. Stylistically, the tonal shifts and disjointed narrative style is a little jarring and contrived, which detracted from the emotional impact for me. It's a decent story, just not one that will linger in my mind for very long.

Tuesday, 4 February 2025

Agatha Christie Short Stories 2025


Thank you Fanda Classiclit for hosting this wonderful reading challenge! 

I’ve only read a few of Agatha Christie's novels so far, and thoroughly enjoyed the clever plotting, intriguing mysteries, and surprising twist endings that made her famous. However, I’ve yet to read any of her short fiction, and this challenge is the perfect incentive to rectify that. I’m really looking forward to discovering how she crafts suspense and surprise in a shorter format, especially if the the great detective Hercule Poirot is on the case! 

Here are the details (copied from her website):

  • Reading & reviewing Christie's short stories as standalones.
  • Two short stories a month, starting from 1st January to 31st December 2024.
  • I have curated twenty four stories with equal proportions of the Poirot's, Miss Marple's, Tommy & Tuppence's, and some of the non detectives. I omitted the Harlequin's and Parker Pyne's next year, since they were not of my favorites in 2024. And this time I picked stories from four collections only, so we won't need to provide too many books for the read along. 

The Reading List

JANUARY: The Adventure of the Cheap Flat (Poirot) - from Poirot Investigates

JANUARY: A Fairy in the Flat (Tommy & Tuppence) - from Partners in Crime

FEBRUARY: The Tuesday Night Club (Miss Marple) - from The Thirteen Problems

FEBRUARY: The Listerdale Mystery (NN) - from The Listerdale Mystery

MARCH: The Mystery of Hunter's Lodge (Poirot) - from Poirot Investigates

MARCH: A Pot of Tea (Tommy & Tuppence) - from Partners in Crime

APRIL: The Idol House of Astarte (Miss Marple) - from The Thirteen Problems

APRIL: Philomel Cottage (NN) - from The Listerdale Mystery

MAY: The Million Dollar Bond Robbery (Poirot) - from Poirot Investigates

MAY: The Affair of the Pink Pearl (Tommy & Tuppence) - from Partners in Crime

JUNE: Ingots of Gold (Miss Marple) - from The Thirteen Problems

JUNE: Sing a Song of Sixpence (NN) - from The Listerdale Mystery

JULY: The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb (Poirot) - from Poirot Investigates

JULY: The Adventure of the Sinister Stranger (Tommy & Tuppence) - from Partners in Crime

AUGUST: The Blood Stained Pavement (Miss Marple) - from The Thirteen Problems

AUGUST: The Manhood of Edward Robinson (NN) - from The Listerdale Mystery

SEPTEMBER: The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan (Poirot) - from Poirot Investigates

SEPTMEBER: The Case of the Missing Lady (Tommy & Tuppence) - from Partners in Crime

OCTOBER: Motive vs. Opportunity (Miss Marple) - from The Thirteen Problems

OCTOBER: Accident (NN) - from The Listerdale Mystery

NOVEMBER: The Kidnapped Prime Minister (Poirot) - from Poirot Investigates

NOVEMBER: Blindman's Buff (Tommy & Tuppence) - from Partners in Crime

DECEMBER: The Thumb Mark of St. Peter (Miss Marple) - from The Thirteen Problems

DECEMBER: A Fruitful Sunday (NN) - from The Listerdale Mystery

Monday, 3 February 2025

Barbie-Q by Sandra Cisernos

Come on, Barbie, let's go party (ah ah ah yeah)

I love a good pun and Barbie-Q by Sandra Cisernos is such a great title. It's an incredibly short-story, clocking in just over one page and could be considered a piece of flash fiction. Yet, despite its compact length, Barbie-Q is an engrossing story packed with thematic depth. At its core, these Barbie dolls serve as an effective metaphor for female gender roles, societal ideals of femininity, and the pursuit of beauty and material success. The two young girls idolize these dolls, longing to embody the glamorous, picture-perfect image they represent. Of course, this fantasy masks the harsh reality of their own impoverished economic status.

Cisneros’ use of repetition and vernacular adds to the story’s charm, capturing the narrator’s youthful innocence and imagination. This playful tone is sharply contrasted with the critique of conforming to cultural standards of wealth and status. The girls’ excitement over acquiring secondhand, fire-damaged Barbies highlights both their resilience and the economic disparity that shapes their experiences. Barbie-Q is as much about childhood joy as it is about the quiet pressures of societal expectations—wrapped up in a deceptively simple yet deeply meaningful tale.

You can read this story HERE.

Witches' Loaves by O. Henry

She buttered up the wrong man.

If it ain't broke, don’t fix it. O. Henry mastered a storytelling formula built on irony and surprise twist endings, usually with great success in subverting reader expectations. But while his stories often deliver clever, satisfying conclusions, they don’t always have strong re-readability. Most of them are a one-and-done experience, and honestly, that’s fine by me. Give me a well-told story with vivid characters, a little intrigue, and a rewarding payoff, and I’m one happy camper.

That said, not all of his twist endings land with the same emotional weight—some are clever but forgettable. Witches’ Loaves, thankfully, gets it right. There’s no fluff, no wasted words—just a clean, simple setup with a payoff that works. Miss Martha is an older lady that runs a bakery, and every day, a gentleman customer buys only stale bread. She likes him and assumes, based on his shabby appearance, that he must be a struggling artist. Feeling sympathetic, she decides to extend an act of kindness. Unfortunately, her good intentions backfire and the moral of the story becomes clear: When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me. The title of the story is meant to be ironic, especially in relation to witches in folklore that meddle in other people's lives.

 Classic O. Henry, and well executed.

Sunday, 2 February 2025

The Cafeteria by Isaac Bashevis Singer

The local cafeterianiks.

The neurotic, self-deprecating Jewish New Yorker stereotype—popularized by the likes of Woody Allen and Larry David—can trace its literary roots back to the OG himself, Isaac Bashevis Singer. He's quickly becoming one of my favorite short-story writers.

A few years ago, I read Gimpel the Fool and thoroughly enjoyed it, but The Cafeteria is on a different level. It masterfully balances dark comedy with haunting tragedy—a difficult feat, yet Singer executes it beautifully. The humor, often wry and self-deprecating, never undermines the story’s deeper sorrow; instead, it amplifies the sense of existential bewilderment, making the moments of grief feel even more profound.

There’s a remarkable thematic richness here, offering multiple entry points: the post-WWII Jewish immigrant experience, the lingering and inexpressible trauma of the Holocaust, the supernatural, the tension between religious orthodoxy and modernity to name a few. Singer’s signature wit and absorbing prose carries a frantic, almost feverish energy—full of seemingly random details, tangents, backstories and abrupt shifts in focus. Yet, beneath the disjointed storytelling, there’s a sense of deep cohesion, like a fragmented mosaic where every piece contributes to an intricate, unknowable whole. The narrator is alienated and a displaced immigrant still reeling from the war. He moves through New York City in a daze, caught between self-deprecation and profound despair, struggling to make sense of an irrational world. 

Singer often reframes the Jewish experience through a supernatural lens, and The Cafeteria is no exception. For example, the narrator’s love interest, Esther, who drifts in and out of his life for many years, insists she saw Hitler in their local eatery—the night before it mysteriously burned down. Is it a coincidence or a bout of madness? A buried horror clawing its way back into the present? Her claim is never confirmed or denied, and the narrator becomes more convinced that there might be veracity to her vision:

|"If time and space are nothing more than forms of perception, as Kant argues, and quality, quantity, causality are only categories of thinking, why shouldn't Hitler confer with his Nazis in a cafeteria on Broadway? Esther didn't sound insane. She had seen a piece of reality that the heavenly censorship prohibits as a rule. She had caught a glimpse behind the curtain of the phenomena." |

In that ambiguity lies the true power of this story: the past refuses to stay buried, yet some horrors—like the Holocaust—are so vast and unspeakable that language alone cannot articulate the unresolved trauma. Instead, the trauma manifests itself in the narrative through the supernatural, creating a sense of magical realism. Singer effectively captures the way grief and memory distort perception, turning history into something both inescapable and unfathomable. The Holocaust looms in the background, not as a direct subject but as a spectral force, warping reality itself. Singer doesn’t attempt to provide closure—because there is none. Instead, The Cafeteria captures the way trauma lingers, unspoken yet omnipresent, intruding on daily life in ways that seem absurd, irrational.

I am so impressed with how effortlessly the author balances dark humor with profound tragedy. Singer has this rare ability to make you chuckle at the narrator's rambling neurotic inner-monologues contrasted with the unspeakable grief that permeates the entire story. It is strange, sad, and unnervingly funny all at once—a testament to Singer’s remarkable talents.

The Killers by Ernest Hemingway

Burt Lancaster is fantastic as the ' Big Swede.'

My favorite Hemingway works are memorable for their emotional power—his ability to strip away sentimentality while still delivering deep, resonant themes. He uses restraint to create tension, allowing what’s unsaid to hit harder than what’s on the page. But The Killers doesn’t quite land that way. I usually appreciate his “less-is-more” style—it’s clean, sharp, and has influenced generations of writers. But sometimes, it feels like he’s trying a little too hard to be, well… Hemingway. 

To be honest, I found this story incredibly dull. It didn’t pull me in, left me indifferent, and the casual racism? Yeah, that didn’t help either. It all just felt dated and unnecessary. I vaguely remember reading this story years ago, but what really sticks in my mind is the Burt Lancaster movie adaptation—because it’s so much better.

Like a lot of Hemingway’s work, there’s no real “plot,” just plenty of ambiguity and dialogue, leaving the reader to connect the dots. That can be brilliant when there’s enough substance to justify it but in this story there just isn’t enough going on to make the effort worthwhile. 

The story drops the reader immediately into the action: two hitmen arrive in a small-town diner, waiting to assassinate an ex-boxer, Ole Andreson. He is also referred to as the 'Big Swede.' The dialogue is clipped, the setting is bleak, and the threat of violence looms. This should be classic Hemingway territory—terse, charged with underlying emotion. But instead of building towards an emotional punch to the gut, the story just fizzles out.

Unlike Hills Like White Elephants or A Clean, Well-Lighted Place (both appear in my Short-Story Hall of Fame) where the unspoken emotions simmer beneath the surface, The Killers feels hollow. We don’t get a real sense of Ole Andreson’s despair, nor do we feel the weight of his fate. The ambiguity, which can be so powerful in Hemingway’s best stories, feels more like a shrug here. There’s no deeper connection to the characters or their emotions—it’s just a series of clipped exchanges that don’t add up to much.

In the end, The Killers lacks that haunting, lingering effect that makes Hemingway’s best work so powerful. That being said, his influence on modern short fiction is undeniable, and when he’s good, he’s really good. But he’s also capable of delivering some duds, and for me, The Killers is a total misfire by Papa Hemingway. 


You can read this story HERE.

Riding the Crocodile by Greg Egan

Under the Milky Way tonight.

I was initially drawn to Riding the Crocodile for three main reasons:

  1. It’s by Greg Egan, one of my favorite sci-fi authors, capable of delivering some of the most mind-blowing stories in the genre.
  2. The intriguing title.
  3. The wonderful opening paragraph, which immediately grabbed me:

In their ten-thousand, three hundred and ninth year of marriage, Leila and Jasim began contemplating death. They had known love, raised children, and witnessed the flourishing generations of their offspring. They had traveled to a dozen worlds and lived among a thousand cultures. They had educated themselves many times over, proved theorems, and acquired and abandoned artistic sensibilities and skills. They had not lived in every conceivable manner, far from it, but what room would there be for the multitude if each individual tried to exhaust the permutations of existence?

Cool, right? The strong opening suggests that the story will involve deep existential themes and high-concept sci-fi—both things Egan excels at. Unfortunately, the actual story turned out to be an impenetrable slog weighed down by relentless infodumps and hardcore physics that often felt more like a science textbook than a narrative.

As a first-contact story, Riding the Crocodile drags through long stretches of dense, didactic hard science fiction that completely drowns the plot. One could argue this is more of a novella than a short story, and at times, it certainly feels that long. Maybe if I had a background in engineering or particle astrophysics, I would have found it more engaging, but as someone who lacks a PhD in theoretical physics, much of it felt borderline incomprehensible.

The premise itself is interesting enough: in a distant future where humans can achieve digital immortality (I think? The story never really clarifies how it all works in layman’s terms), Leila and Jasim—an ancient married couple—set out on one final intellectual challenge before choosing to die. They want to make contact with the Aloof, a reclusive alien civilization that has ignored all attempts at communication for millions of years. The story ties into the Fermi Paradox, exploring why advanced civilizations might deliberately isolate themselves.

That sounds like a solid setup, but the execution is painfully dense. There’s a lot of talk about information theory, relativistic travel, and high-level astrophysics, most of which went completely over my head. By the time Leila and Jasim finally succeed in making contact, the reveal is anticlimactic, and honestly, I wasn’t sure it was worth the effort—either for them or for me as the reader.

In the end, Riding the Crocodile is a story that tries to tackle grand, cerebral ideas but ultimately forgets to make them compelling. If you enjoy Egan’s signature brand of mind-bending hard sci-fi, you might find it worthwhile. But if you’re not well-versed in theoretical physics, prepare to spend more time scratching your head than actually enjoying the story.

You can read this story HERE.

Saturday, 1 February 2025

Short Stories, Long Journeys: My Never Ending Reading List

The Library of Babel.

There are an endless amount of short-stories that I would like to read before departing from this Earth. Hopefully, this list will be a useful tracking system for individual stories and collections that pique my interest. Considering the sheer volume of works vying for my attention, I get the feeling that this might end up a disorganized dumping ground as opposed to an organized reference guide. Either way, I love making lists and excited to see what happens. 

I'm always open for recommendations and please leave them in the comments below.

Onwards and upwards and sideways and backwards!

Individual short stories:
  1. Crocodile Ride by Greg Egan (online)
  2. St. Lucy’s Home For Girls Raised By Wolves by Karen Russell (online)
  3. Petra by Greg Egan
  4. Wangs Carpets by Greg Egan
  5. Extra by Yiyun Li
  6. All Will be Well by Yiyun Li
  7. The Man of the World by Frank O'Connor (online)
  8. Paycheck by PKD
  9. Sweethearts by Richard Ford (online)
  10. The Adventure Of The Speckled Band by Arthur Conan Doyle (online)
  11. Paladin of the Lost Hour by Harlan Ellison
  12. Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar
  13. The Killers by Hemingway
  14. The Hitchhikers by Eudora Welty
  15. Blood-burning Moon by Jean Toomer
  16. Ambush by Donna Tartt
  17. After Rain by William Trevor
  18. The Match by Colson Whitehead
  19. The interior castle by Jean Stafford
  20. Standard Loneliness package by Charles Lu
  21. Resurrection of life by William Saroyan
  22. The resemblance between a violin case and a coffin by Tennessee Williams
  23. Rules of the game by Amy Tan
  24. Country Husband by John Cheever
  25. Slaves on the Block by Langston Hughes
  26. Liars in Love by Richard Yates
  27. The Secret Lives of the Nine Negro Teeth of George Washington by Phenderson Djèlí Clark
  28. You're Ugly too by Lorrie Moore
  29. Koolau the Leper by Jack London
  30. Negore, The Coward by Jack London
  31. The Crime Wave at Blandings by P.G. Wodehouse
  32. ‘Children On Their Birthdays’ by Truman Capote
  33. *virginia is not your home*
  34. The Way Up To Heaven, by Roald Dahl
  35. Great Automatic Grammatizator by Roald Dahl
  36. Terminus by Stanislaw Lem
  37. The Key by Isaac Bashevis Singer
  38. All the King’s Horses by Vonnegut
  39. The Caress by Greg Egan
  40. The Night we all had grippe by Shirley Jackson (online)
  41. The whole town's sleeping by Ray Bradbury
Collections:
  1. A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin
  2. Night of the Living Rez by Morgan Talty (Robarts)
  3. Luminosity by Greg Egan
  4. Witness by Jamel Brinkley (Robarts)
  5. Neighbors and Other Stories by Diane Oliver
  6. A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley
  7. Flash Fiction in America: 73 very short stories (Robarts)
  8. Unreal and the Real by Ursula Le Guin (UTL, online)
  9. Homesick for Another World by Otessa Moshfegh
  10. Woman hollering Creek and Other Stories by Sandra Cisneros (Robarts)
  11. The Glassy, burning floor of Hell by Brian Evenson (UTL, online)
  12. Dare the Sea by Ali Hosseini (Robarts)
  13. Holler, Child (Stories) by LaToya Watkins
  14. Temple Folk by Aaliyah Bilal (black muslim americans)
  15. Out there Screaming (Jordan Peele Anthology of Black Horror)
  16. The King is Dead by Walter Tevis (TPL)
  17. Call and Response by Gothataone Moeng (UTL, online)
  18. My Monticello by Jocelyn Johnson (TPL)
  19. The Flying Leap by Judy Budnitz (Robarts)
  20. Rock Springs (Stories) by Richard Ford (Robarts)
  21. Hunger: A novel and stories by Samantha Lan Chang (Robarts)
  22. 145th street by Walter Dean Myers
  23. Each of us Killers by Jenny Bhatt (Robarts)
  24. The Oxford Book of American Short Stories (2013, Robarts)
  25. From Death to Morning by Thomas Wolfe
  26. The witness for the prosecution and other stories by Agatha Christie
  27. More Pricks than Kicks by Samuel Beckett
  28. The Collected Short Stories of Saki
  29. The Sorcerers Apprentice by Charles Johnson
  30. Lot by Bryan Washington
  31. Collected Stories of Gabriel Marquez
  32. Waltzing the Cat by Pam Houston
  33. Selected Short Stories of Patricia Highsmith
  34. Tender by Sofia Samatar (UTL online)
  35. Sans Souci and other stories by Dionne Brand
  36. The Refugees by Viet Thanh Nguyen
  37. Short Stories of Langston Hughes
  38. Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self by Danielle Evans (Robarts)
  39. The Art and Craft of Asian Stories: A Writer’s Guide and Anthology (Robarts, Online)
  40. Blue collar, white collar, no collar : stories of work
  41. In Bed One Night and Other Brief Encounters by Robert Coover
  42. The Awkward Black Man by Walter Mosley
  43. Blood Feast: The Complete Short Stories of Malika Moustadraf (online)
  44. This is Salvaged by Vauhini Vara (Robarts)

Friday, 31 January 2025

There are No Thieves in this Town by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The wannabe hustler.

Have I been bamboozled? Hoodwinked? Is this some kind of literary prank? Surely, this can't be the same Gabriel García Márquez who gave us such masterful short stories as "A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings" or "One of These Days." But alas, nobody’s perfect—not even a literary giant. Apparently, even the great Márquez can have an off day. Maybe my expectations were set too high, but There Are No Thieves in This Town left me thoroughly disappointed, with barely a redeeming quality in sight.

Dámaso, a chain-smoking young man barely scraping by, ignores the protests of his pregnant wife and decides to rob the local pool hall. He’s hoping to score some cash but, finding none, settles for stealing…the pool balls. Yes, really. Not exactly Ocean’s Eleven. His grand plan? Sell them for a profit in a town so poor it’s a miracle they even have a pool hall. To make matters worse, Dámaso isn't just unlucky—he's reckless, blowing money on alcohol and prostitutes while his wife waits for him at home, worried sick. He's a terrible husband and I'm not sure why she doesn't leave him. 

Márquez ditches his signature magical realism in favor of a bleak dose of social realism, but here it lacks emotional weight. The characters feel hollow, the story plods along at a snail’s pace, and just when you think it might be leading somewhere… it fizzles out with an anti-climactic ending. And if that weren’t enough, the story is laced with blatant anti-Black racism, misogyny, and unnecessary violence against women—making it not just dull, but actively unpleasant to read.

Maybe Márquez was experimenting, or maybe he was just having a bad writing dayit doesn't really matter. Either way, I still think he's a talented author but it might be a while before I revisit his work. 

One of These Days by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Have a seat Señor and let me get my pliers.

Unlike the novel, which has the luxury of expansiveness, a great short story must rely on precise language to achieve its impact within a limited space. Gabriel García Márquez’s One of These Days exemplifies this economy of expression, using brevity and conciseness to construct an emotionally charged story. The structure of a short story can take many forms—a fleeting sketch, a fragment of a larger whole or a single charged moment being quite prevalent. One of These Days embodies all of these elements while remaining a self-contained episode within a broader socio-political landscape. Though incredibly brief, the story resonates beyond its immediate events, hinting at deeper tensions and systemic forces that shape the two main characters. The gaps and ambiguities in the narrative invite the reader to actively engage with the text, piecing together the underlying tensions and themes.

In this way, the short story can be understood as occupying a liminal space—a threshold between worlds, where meaning is suspended and shaped by what is left unsaid. The author masterfully conveys intense emotional tension and rich story elements through a careful balance of precise details and deliberate omissions. Every small action, piece of dialogue, and unstated implication adds weight to the narrative, allowing meaning to emerge as the story progresses. This restraint heightens the story’s impact, compelling the reader to engage actively and interpret the underlying power struggles, unspoken emotions, and broader socio-political realities evoked by the scene.

This  liminality is especially evident in the reversed power dynamic between the dentist and the corrupt mayor. What appears to be a routine dental procedure is charged with unspoken conflict, as the powerless—represented by the dentist—briefly gains control over the powerful. The scene is deceptively simple yet full of tension and packed with meaning with the underlying currents of systemic oppression looming in the background. In this moment, the dentist’s reluctant defiance and the mayor’s vulnerability expose the fragile and often brutal nature of authority, turning an everyday encounter into a quiet act of resistance.

Nearly every story in this collection has been exceptional, further cementing Gabriel García Márquez’s mastery of the short-story form. His ability to craft vivid, emotionally resonant narratives with such precision and economy of language is nothing short of remarkable. With each story, he continues to captivate, revealing new depths to his storytelling prowess, imagination and versatility. Although best known for his magical realism, García Márquez demonstrates in this story that he is equally adept at crafting a compelling narrative within a more conventional framework. Eschewing with surreal elements, this piece is indicative of his ability to create tension and meaning through precise storytelling and sharp realism.

Thursday, 30 January 2025

Division of Zero by Ted Chiang

1+1 = 2. Or does it?

What if mathematics turned out to be nothing more than a meaningless "mnemonic trick" (a phrase spoken by the protagonist)? That’s the unsettling premise in Division by Zero, another sophisticated short story by the amazingly talented Ted Chiang. Renee, a renowned mathematician, stumbles upon a proof that undermines the entire basis of arithmetic. As she explains to her husband:

"One and one will always get you two on your fingers, but on paper I can give you an infinite number of answers, and they're all equally valid, which means they're equally invalid."

That’s pretty wild—even if I don’t fully understand the formulas behind it. (I barely survived high school calculus, so my ability to grasp advanced mathematical paradoxes is about as solid as my ability to do long division without a calculator.) But while the complex math might have gone over my head, the emotional weight of the story resonated with me the most.

Renee’s discovery doesn’t just challenge mathematical truth—it shatters her entire worldview. For her, math has always been the one unwavering constant, the key to understanding the universe. Now, faced with the realization that it’s all built on contradictions, she spirals into depression. Her husband, deeply devoted but struggling to reach her, watches helplessly as she unravels. Their crumbling marriage and personal tragedy coincides with the author's historical reflections on the nature of mathematics, grounding the abstract theory in something profoundly human.

One particularly relevant quote from Einstein sums up the paradox at the heart of the story:

"Insofar as the propositions of mathematics give an account of reality they are not certain; and insofar as they are certain they do not describe reality."

Chiang's deeply intellectual premise never overshadows the story's emotional core. Even if the mathematical proofs went over my head, the philosophical depth and the deeply empathetic characters stand out.

"She, like many, had always thought that mathematics did not derive its meaning from the universe, but rather imposed some meaning onto the universe. Physical entities were not greater or less than one another, not similar or dissimilar; they simply were, they existed. 

Tuesday, 28 January 2025

Lederhosen by Haruki Murakami

Ein Prosit der Gemütlichkeit!

I truly admire Haruki Murakami's ability to take the most random, seemingly mundane subject matter and transform it into an engaging story-- Lederhosen being a perfect example of this rare talent. The premise, at first glance, seems silly and inconsequential: the narrator's wife's friend recounts how her parents’ divorce was triggered by a pair of lederhosen—yes, the traditional Bavarian shorts. While such a detail might seem trivial or even absurd in the hands of another writer, Murakami somehow manages to pull it off (well, for the most part). 

What makes the story so compelling isn’t just the peculiar catalyst for the divorce, but how Murakami invites readers into this anecdote, unfolding it like a thought experiment where the "why" of the situation is less important than the journey itself full of wonderful tangents. His prose, both simple and elegant, guides the reader through the winding history of this woman’s family, creating a narrative that feels both intimate with a hint of surrealism. 

Murakami is so skilled at elevating the mundane into something profound. He tends to focus on the quirks of human relationships or the small, seemingly insignificant details of life in a way that feels emotionally resonant. In Lederhosen, it’s not really about the shorts themselves but about what they symbolize, and the emotional landscapes they uncover. 

Sunday, 26 January 2025

Hell is the Absence of God by Ted Chiang

"And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal." - Matthew 25:46 

Ted Chiang is on another level when it comes to the short-story writing. His excellent collection "Stories of Your Life" contains some of the most mind-blowing stories that I have ever encountered, and Hell is the Absence of God certainly falls into that category. It is a mini-epic with such a fascinating premise: what if Divine Intervention were not only real but also visible and undeniable to mortals? Chiang creates a richly imagined world where angelic visitations and divine acts are regular occurrence, with manifestations that range from miraculous healings to catastrophic collateral damage. This world is both wondrous and terrifying, forcing its inhabitants—and readers—to grapple with the nature of faith in the face of inexplicable divine power. 

Chiang explores faith in its many dimensions, presenting a series of interconnected stories that highlight the paradoxes of religious belief. Neil Fisk, the central character, is bitter towards God after his wife is accidentally killed by one of the angels during a moment of divine intervention. His grief becomes the catalyst for a misguided plan to be reunited with Sarah in heaven if he can chase down angels and speak with God (to avoid spoilers, let's just say that God has other plans in store for him). Through Neil’s story, Chiang examines how faith can be born of desperation, hope, and even resentment, raising questions about whether true belief can exist when it is motivated by self-interest rather than love or devotion. 

This is one of those stories that begs for analysis and my review has barely scratched the surface. The story’s theological complexity also touches upon themes of salvation, devotion, justice, and the role of free will in a world where divine acts are no longer abstract concepts but tangible, visible events. Chiang challenges us to confront the inherent paradoxes between belief and doubt, illustrating how faith can be a source of both profound beauty and intense suffering. There is a certain vulnerability that comes with devotion—how surrendering to something greater than oneself can bring comfort and meaning, but also lead to heartache and despair. Faith, in Chiang’s world, is not a simple path to salvation but a journey that forces us to wrestle with our deepest fears, desires, and contradictions.

In this way, Hell is the Absence of God is not merely a story about divine intervention but a poignant exploration of what it means to be human. It forces us to question not only the nature of the divine but the very foundation of our existence: our need for meaning, our search for connection, and the courage it takes to place our trust in the unknown. By the end of the story, readers are left with a profound sense of the fragile beauty of faith, and the realization that to believe—truly believe—is to risk everything. Ted Chiang’s work offers no easy answers, but it leaves us with questions that resonate on a deeply emotional level, urging us to grapple with the mysteries of life, love, and the divine in ways we never have before.

The New Yorker Challenge (short stories)

In conjunction with the" Deal me in Challenge", I've decided to also start reading more short-stories published in The New Yorker. Since I don't read a lot of contemporary fiction these days, this could be a good opportunity to expose myself to new writers that otherwise would not be on my radar. 

This would all be very chill with no rigid rules here—just me, a growing list of stories, and a goal to read at least one each month. If I manage that, I’ll consider it a literary victory (and probably reward myself with a cookie or something equally motivating). Feel free to join in if this challenge interests you at all and I'm happy for any recommendations.


Selections:
  • Ming by Han Ong
  • Consolation by Andre Alexis
  • Allah Have Mercy by Mohammed Naseehu
  • Incoming by Teju Cole
  • The Books of Losing You by Junot Diaz (Flash fiction series)