Hallgrímur Helgason, "America"

Aldabjörg doesn't want to go to America with her dimwit brothers. How many children must she promise to bear in order to stay in Iceland?

(from McSweeney's Number 15)

A strange, short story. Reads almost like a scene from Northern Exposure, the way real live people are portrayed as absurd, one-dimensional almost-people, just for the purposes of being weird or living out a joke. But you believe it a little because you see where they're coming from. Good fun.

Amy Hempel, “Beach House”

Listening in on the summer renters next door.

(from The Dog of The Marriage)

This is a very short story. Three pages short. But it gets great mileage. I'm at a loss to go into great detail. It took me something like ten minutes to read this and I’ll gladly lend the book to whoever wants it. For a half hour. I’ll need this back at some point.

Patrick Ryan, "So Much for Artemis"

Dad's plan to rejuvenate the lawn by dumping sand on it cuts back on the amount of time Frankie gets to spend with Jennifer.

(from One Story, issue number 53)

On one level, this is the story of a boy learning that his siblings are right about dad; he's kind of a loser. I mean, you feel bad for him. Maybe he's a good guy on a bad streak. You want grass to start popping up from the sand, but it won't happen. The hits just keep on coming. This is also a story of a kid learning about disease and independence, and those parts are expertly arranged through the filter of a kid's limited understanding. A memorable and fun read.
There's an interview with Patrick Ryan here. It should be noted that once in a while at work I receive mail addressed to Patrick Ryan, because people can't remember my name and they figure, hey, close enough. I figured I'd give you a link to Mr. Ryan's site, to direct some of my formidable web traffic his way. Least I can do since I've been rifling through his mail the last few years. Couldn't find a homepage, mostly because there seem to be a lot of Patrick Ryans out there. Or maybe there's only one, and the rest are typos.

Roald Dahl, "The Way Up to Heaven"

Something's gotta give in this passive aggressive rich couple's relationship.

(from The Best of Roald Dahl)

Did you know that Roald Dahl, author of BFG and James and the Giant Peach and The Witches and so on, was also the author of several made-for-adults stories and books? I did, because I wrote a report on him in eighth grade and looked up all the books I'd never seen in the children's section of the Collingswood Public Library. I didn't think those books were too interesting back then, but maybe it's time I did some catching up. If I liked his kid stuff so much when I was a kid, maybe I'll like his grown-up stuff now that I'm a grown up.
I certainly liked this story. The pace was very familiar, building you up with the appearance of normalcy before dropping something twisted on your head. Of course, there's plenty to laugh at in the normalcy bits, too. I look forward to opening this book again soon.

Suzy Spraker, "Dead In Places"

A college student and her older employer from the candle store talk about love on a winter's afternoon.

(from Fiction, vol. 19, Number 1)

A funny, sad little story of an unlikely fling between a woman who is still clinging to her optimistic notions of love and life, and a man who, like the rest of us presumably, has been drained of all that enthusiasm. If you look at this story a certain way, you could presume soulness negativity is something men introduced and perpetuated. But it's kind of a small sample size to make that kind of conclusion. A thoughtful story disguised as a lazy post-coital afternoon for a round hole and a square peg.
Here's another story by Suzy Spraker.

Russell Banks, "Sarah Cole: A Type of Love Story"

A handsome man takes up with a homely woman.

(from The Angel on the Roof)

The perspective shifts from first person to third and back because, the narrator explains, a sense of distance may help him understand the events he's recounting. It's something of a meta/experimental method, but it comes off like an eccentric storyteller's attempt to get to the bottom of his own motives. It's not a jarring sea change when it happens. There's a casual tone to what might otherwise come off as pretentious. Here's an excerpt:

Here is the scene. You can put it in the present, even though it took place ten years ago,
because nothing that matters to the story depends on when it took place,
and you can put it in Concord, New Hampshire, even though that is indeed
where it took place, because it doesn't matter where it took place,
so it might as well be Concord, New Hampshire,
a place I happen to know well and can therefore describe
with sufficient detail to make the story believable.

Read the whole story here.

It's the official web site of Lisa Glatt, author of A Girl Becomes a Comma Like That, a novel I have seen often, but not read (because, you know, it's a novel). Elsewhere on her site she suggests, as if to a class, and she does teach:
"Read Russell Banks' short story 'Sarah Cole: A Type of Love Story' and begin your own piece about an unlikely pair. Notice how Banks' builds tension in the story, patiently, scene by scene. Try that. Don't just 'introduce' your characters but have them meet up again, either at the same place or elsewhere. Notice how this alone moves your story or poem forward."
Made me miss the classroom setting, and the writing excercises I shoulda have spent more time on. Cue nostalgic Pavement song. "Shady Lane," maybe.

This story came recommended by reader Edan Lepucki, who suggested many other stories I'll get to at some point. I think that's the end of Recommendation Week. A day early, but I haven't come across any of the other story suggested to me, and I have some recent purchases burning holes in my backpack. Read that sentence and begin your own convoluted metaphor.

Dean Paschal, "Moriya"

A boy becomes enthralled by a mechanical girl.

(from The Best American Short Stories 2003)

On one level you've got this mechanical-minded kid and what seems to be the strangest most complicated machine he's ever come across. On another, fairly overt, English majory level, you've got a robot girl who's a metaphor for actual women. Level A works pretty well as an independent dimension, some kinda freaky, mysterious sci-fi plane of existence. Level B, while not too cunning a literary invention, makes the story a big, creepy psychodrama. The curious writing style — no quotations marks, a hovering, omniscient narrator, events hinted at before they happen — adds to the tension and heightens the experience. A fun, spooky, sometimes uncomfortable, occasionally gross, often surprising read.

This story was recommended by reader Dan Wickett, of Michigan.

I bought The Best American Short Stories 2003 today at Borders, along with McSweeney's Number 15 (which is old) and Fiction Vol. 19, Number 1. I first looked for used copies of BASS 2003 at Book Trader (nope), Big Jar (closed, mysteriously) and Robin's (not that I saw). I was at Robin's to watch the winners of City Paper's fiction contest winners read their works, including David J. Snyder's whose story I read on March 17.
When I got home, I found I'd received my next issue of One Story. Yesterday I went to a new bookstore on Fourth Street called Junco and Grouse. Nice place. Small. Blugrass on the radio. I bought a collection called The Moderns, edited by LeRoi Jones (featuring Kerouac, Eastlake, Burroughs) and The Best of Roald Dahl, because it's time I read his adult stuff.
Currently, I own enough unread stories to extend this blog into the world of tomorrow, and beyond. Years, maybe. Gotta stop buying.

Richard Russo, "The Whore's Child"

An old nun attends a college creative writing course and workshops her memoirs.

(from Harper's Magazine, February, 1998)

A sharp, bitter story within a warmer, sharper one. This is an excellent, fast-paced read that sets its scenes with modest detail and multi-dimensional characters. The language isn't beautiful, and the subject matter is unromanticized. That said, the tone is inviting and the ending is satisfying. There are also some telling peeks into the short story workshopping process I enjoyed quite a bit.
I found the story here, but I don't recommend you follow the link. This version was speckled with typos that, surely, the copy editors at Harper's corrected before it went to press. Given that all the typos would slip through spellcheck ("car" instead of "ear," "bit" instead of "but"), one would guess somebody actually re-typed this story. But, why? Who would take the trouble to bootleg a short story? Makes the reading experience a bit cumbersome, but an uplifting thought.

This story came recommended by reader Rebecca Tolley-Stokes. Thank you, Rebecca!

Haruki Murakami, "Ice Man"

A woman falls in love with an ice man.

(from The New Yorker, Feb. 10, 2003)

This story, it occurs to me, is a lot like life, in that it is a tale told by an idiot. But seriously, what the hell? This one was so silly and overdone, I couldn't help but think the author, generally an excellent writer from what I've seen, was just messing around. Stream-of-consciousness noodling on Murakami's part. An experiment he never should have handed in. A wandering non-story with some pretty moments.
Everything about this ice man turned out to be a metaphor for more ice. The white patches in his hair? Like pockets of unmelted snow. His cheekbones? Like frozen stone. His fingers? frosted at the tips. Also, he sat as quiet as the winter scene outside the window and his stare was like a pointy icicle. So? Like? He's? Some kinda an ice man?
Too bad he couldn't crap out a snowcone. Make yourself useful, ice man.
Something about the tone reminded me of this classic story from one of my all-time favorite websites, superbad.com.

The link from which I printed "Ice Man" no longer seems to be working. But do some Googling and you'll find the cached version.

Day Three of Recommendation Week. This one came endorsed by reader Stephen Schenkenberg, who told me "Ice Man" was extraordinary. That it was.

Charles D'Ambrosio, "Up North"

Daly joins his girlfriend and her family in their wintry hunting cabin.

(from The New Yorker, Feb. 14, 2005)

This story was very good at making me uncomfortable. Not squirmy, just apprehensive. The hunting, the suspicions of a rapist in the midst, the infidelity, etc. Off-putting.
And aha, you say, this story has accomplished something! It has instilled in the reader an intense response. Success. No, that's not it. Simply evoking a reaction from me is not so hard. Slap me, hit me in the shin with a vacuum cleaner, sneak cheese into my scrambled eggs. I'll react.
"Up North" inspired discomfort, but the sharp descriptions of people and settings made me turn the pages for more punishment. It also helps that he lets the reader deal with the freaky bits without analyzing them too much. It's not mind-blowing, but it's a good read. You will find it here.

It's the second day of Recommendation Week. This story's value was hinted at in a letter from reader Leigh Newman. Yes, the very same Leigh Newman whose story I read March 1, 2005. Awesome.

Patrick Somerville, "Trouble and the Shadowy Deathblow"

An out of work food scientist learns how to kill with his touch, but he can't unlearn it.

(from One Story, Vol. 2, Number 10, October, 2003)

This story is pretty effin funny. The real-life absurdity of the existence of spray-on cheese experts is juxtaposed by the other-world absurdity of some regular snobby guy turning into a killing machine overnight. Somerville's got a knack for including some details (what everybody's wearing, because the narrator judges people that way) while leaving out others (damn, I wanna know how to do the Shadowy Deathblow! I been poking my co-workers all day). Overarching themes be damned, this story is a wily lil thrillride, a nearly believable tale with no moral. So much fun.
Coulda used an editor though, if you ask me, just to tighten it up a little bit. For instance, it's hard to imagine a vaccum cleaner which could be pushed into somebody's shins. That's just too high. Feet, or ankles, I would say. Also, it's "Rollie Fingers," not "Rolly." Little things. Not important. Sorry I brought it up. Geez.

This story was recommended by reader Ginny Brewer whom I do not know. She actually emailed me a PDF of the story. It was super super nice.
Thus begins Recommendation Week.

George Saunders,"Pastoralia"

Two cavepeople impersonators deal with cutbacks at the theme park.

(from The O. Henry Awards, 2001 Prize Stories)

This story rocked. It's 45 pages long, and after five I was already plotting who to lend it to first. The tone was perfect; the absurdity of the situation was tempered by the sadness of it and the author was careful to establish the characters in stages and moments. A beautiful story that made me smile the whole time. Ah.
I think I should read more George Saunders. This is the second story of his I've read and enjoyed — the first was "Sea Oak" on August 17, 2004 — and I'd like to take a swipe at why. In his reality, at least in these tiny deputies of his mostly unexplored ouevre, everybody gets the blame for the fucked-uppedness of the world. It's society! But also, it's the individual! And then there are people who play by the rules, as well as they can, and it doesn't help because most everybody else is contributing to the fucked-uppedness. Not that it matters because not all problems are caused by, or can be remedied by, people. There is nothing you can do. Enjoy your day.

* * *

Starting tomorrow: Request week! It's what it sounds like! Now, for real, enjoy your day.

Shalom Auslander, “Bobo The Self-Hating Chimp”

Bobo struggles to come to terms with his newfound intellect and self-awareness.

(from Beware of God)

Easy reader. The author’s deadpan style seems to be going for poignancy, but the narrator comes off more like a stand-up comedian fishing for laughing caesuras to break up his storytelling. So many one-sentence paragraphs and repeated lines. Some moments are genuinely memorable. It’s funny and thoughtful, but not too deep. A reading might very well be Auslander’s wheelhouse. Which is not a bad thing. We’ll see, when he and Eric Bogosian read at the Library on May 5. (Since I will try to whip up a short article on this reading for the paper, you may see some more Shalom Auslander here on I Read A Short Story Today.)
For a more contemplative, but half-as-funny take on unhappy zoo animals, please see Hannah Tinti’s “Reasonable Terms” which I read on March 15.

“The War of The Bernsteins”
Much to the chagrin on his wife, a man starts looking at everything in terms of how it will or will not affect his chances at post-death bliss.
Also defined by one-sentence paragraphs and repeated lines, but this one’s less jokey. Plus all the mean-spirited parts are sharp. The Lockhorns embroiled in a battle to the after-death!

“Somebody Up There Likes You”
A man who escapes death in a car accident ponders returning to his faith. Meanwhile, God, Lucifer and co. set about finishing the job. More repeated lines. Funny stuff, though. If Bloom was a little more fleshed out, I’d buy into his spiritual exploring more.

David J. Snyder, "Dane's Geld: A Fairy Tale"

A man faces his sworn enemy in a world where fairy tales are real.

(from Philadelphia City Paper, March 17, 2005)

First, read the story here. (The link will expire one day.)
I enjoyed the many surprises in the fast-paced, funny "Dane's Geld," as the author gradually revealed that this wasn't the real world we were looking at. A quick and satisfying read.
This story was one of the winners of City Paper's fiction contest, sci-fi/fantasy division, as chosen by judge Michael Swanwick. As per the rules of the contest, Philadelphia and CP get prominent shout-outs. The other winners, in the categories of Romance and Mystery, can be found here and here.

Peter Straub, "Mr. Aickman's Air Rifle"

Four men suffering from heart disease, and all loosely connected in the publishing world, end up on the same floor of a hospital.

(from McSweeney's Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories)

No surprise, Peter Straub has teamed up with Stephen King in the past. I've only read the one story by King, but I know his style a little bit from the jalopies adapted from his books and stories. "Mr. Aickman's Air Rifle" has a lonely Langoliers quality to it, right down to its viciously unexplained bits of spookiness. I really don't get what's going on in this story. Or maybe I get the big picture but the details are so hazy I feel lost.

* * *

And that, dear readers, was my last trip to the good ol’ Enchanted Chamber. I’ve read all 15 stories in the collection, which isn’t terribly impressive. You’re supposed to read books. Still, given that this is the first finished book in the short history of I Read A Short Story Today, it should be recognized as the nigh-milestone it is. Applause Sign.
McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories was absolutely worth the $13.95 (plus tax) cover price. Its over-arching accomplishment was tricking artsy-litsy types into reading “genre” fiction. The stories sometimes utilized, or parodied, familiar elements from mysteries, horror and, yeah, mostly those two genres. Most were engaging reads. Well chosen, editor Michael Chabon.
I once got an award, well more of a certificate, for studying banjo for a week. Okay, everybody in class got one. Just for showing up. It’s an honor I’d like to bestow on the Astonishing Stories now. In no order because I am under orders from no one.

Best Cautionary Tale For The Paranoid
Margaret Atwood, “Lusus Naturae”
The main character is turning into a monster. It’s so scary because she’s so human. It could happen to you! It could.

Coolest Mystery I Almost Figured Out
Daniel Handler, “Delmonico”
Clues make more sense in the rear view mirror.

Best Attempt to Play Off My Catholicism-Approved Pagan Fears
Poppy Z. Brite, “The Devil of Delery Street”
Now I’m even more afraid of every little noise.

Story Which Gives the Reader The Most Credit
China Miéville, “Reports of Certain Events In London”
Original from the first word to the last. (Spoiler Alert: Those words are “on” and “rest.”)

Most Ungenerous Horror Story
Peter Straub, “Mr. Aickman’s Air Rifle”
It made more sense than Twin Peaks, but I just didn’t follow. Throw me a bone, Mr. Straub.

Most Blatant Attempt To Blow Your Mind
Steve Erickson, “Zeroville”
Didn’t quite work out, though.

Most Engrossing Story
Charles D’Ambrosio, “The Scheme of Things”
I was totally hooked.

Most Winding and Wild
David Mitchell, “What You Do Not Know You Want”
Never knew what would happen next, but I knew it’d cool.

Story Which Made Me Most Nostalgic For A Genre I Barely Knew
Heidi Julavitz, “The Miniaturist”
This one scared me too. It was a crazy paisley of horror imagery but still effective.

Most Exhausting Treadmill
Roddy Doyle, “The Child”
Just didn’t care for it.

Most Predictable But Still Cool But Still Neat Horror Story
Ayelet Waldman, “Minnow”
Yeah. Saw it coming, didn’t care that much.

Biggest Upset
Stephen King, “Lisey and the Madman”
What was I thinking, taking Stephen Effin King for an underdog in a genre-riffic story collection? He kicked ass.

Prettiest Balloon
Jonathan Lethem, “Vivian Relf”
So ornate you don’t care it it’s empty. Is it even empty?

Most Chilling
Jason Roberts, “7C”
If I had seen Memento, I would note that this story freaked me out in the same way.

Best Resuscitation of an Edgar Allan Poe Anecdote
Joyce Carol Oates, “The Fabled Lighthouse at Via del Mar”
She took a dormant Poe idea and came up with a madman tale he’d’ve been proud of. I can’t wait to meet my dream Cyclophagus.

Hannah Tinti, "Reasonable Terms"

The giraffes at the zoo make up a list of demands.

(from Animal Crackers)

In this story, the giraffes are more-or-less sentient beings, capable of rational thought, bargaining, protest and hope. And while their skill for communicating with humans is limited, there's no denying their intelligence once they've written up that list of demands and handed it to the zookeeper. After that, this story reminded me of Family Guy a little, where you don't know whether anybody can understand the baby and you can't see any good reason they made Brian a dog in the first place. And so, parts of "Reasonable Terms" feels like a satire, other parts are the real world, and we're pulled along for the ride. Thankfully we are in good hands.

Joyce Carol Oates, “The Fabled Light-House at Viña del Mar”

A man agrees to live alone in a lighthouse and keep a diary.

(from McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories, only one more to go!)

The whole time I was reading this absurd tale of loneliness and descent into madness, set in the mid-1800s and with occasional shout-outs to Philly, I was thinking it was cast in shades of Edgar Allan Poe (though not the ending, that’s got hues of Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos), and sure enough, on the last page, the origin is revealed:

“The Fabled Light-House at Viña del Mar” has been suggested by the one-page manuscript fragment “The Light-House,” found among the papers of Edgar Allan Poe after his death in 1849.

Which means he wrote down this little idea and Joyce Carol Oates saw something special in it and turned it into the dark spectacle I just read. Excellent.

I too should like to leave behind a fragment some author-genius could resurrect. Here goes:

A man rides a horse across the modern-day United States, solving crimes, helping the poor and reuniting squabbling families.

Hm. Perhaps at best it could end up as a one-hour action-drama. I’ll take it.

Stuart Dybek, “Breasts”

A hitman keeps running into old girlfriends every time he’s about to kill a crooked bookie.

(from The Best American Short Stories, 2004)

This one has it all: guns, mafia, sex, drugs, horse racing, a masked wrestler, carrier pigeons and a perfect, if smoky, ending. Not actual smoke.
This was a long one (43 pages); totally worth the time. The action was fast and the sensory stimulation so strong, I couldn’t help but re-imagine this as a kickass cult-hit kinda movie. With a different title, of course.
For some reason this story also reinvigorated my faith in the Best American series. I mean, what’s this mob story doing in the same neighborhood as Alice Munro and John Updike? Of course, that’s just my unfounded misconception; this series is by no means snobby. It’s just that “Breasts” is such a “genre” story, seemingly more comfortable in a certain chamber alongside other astonishing stories.

Catherine Brady, "Written In Stone"

He left her for another woman, but still comes by every Tuesday for drinks and dinner.

(from The Best American Short Stories, 2004)

The narrator's emotions remain mysterious. She sees all and understands all, but how does she feel about it? We don't know, not really, and that makes this story particularly enjoyable to read. Amidst the chaos of cultural and social differences, heartbreak and weakness, the author holds us steady. Everything important is in focus. The author keeps the windshield clear. Maybe I'm barking up at the wrong moon on this one. Who knows? Catherine Brady knows.

Constance Lang-Lynard, "Accidents for Sale"

The old lady who frequents the local accident stores finally buys one for herself.

(from The First Line, Spring 2004)

Not a tightly written story, but very imaginative and fun. This is sort of a dark, Roald Dahlian tale, with its own mixed up version of reality. It doesn't make a ton of sense, but it plays by its own rules and makes you smile.

The First Line (linked here) is a publication which chooses the first sentence and lets authors build the story from there. This time the sentence was "There were five of them, which was two more than I'd been expecting." The line didn't figure in the story very much, but it didn't seem out of place, either.

Frederick Busch, "Frost Line"

A woman attends the funeral of the man who told her not to marry his son.

(from Zoetrope All-Story, Spring, 2005)

That's a fine title, but might I also suggest "Do The Wrong Thing"? The battle between desire and morality is mostly what forces the action in this story. Aside from a few colorful metaphors, this is a plainspoken story, telling only the telling details and leaving the reader to wonder about some of the pointless details. I mean, didn't she know anybody else in her old hometown? Not important, of course.
Okay, you know what? This one line bugged me. Jean meets an older lady in a fur coat at the funeral. She notes that the woman has a familiar smell, is wearing too much make-up and has extraordinarily white teeth. Then comes this:

"As I asked her for a ride to the cemetary, I realized that the smell of her toilet water reminded me of the lavendar sachet of Mac's shirts."

Is toilet water some euphemism I'm not familiar with? Some lavendar smelling liquor, maybe? Because I know it only as the water in a toilet, which sort of makes that line crazy. Or perhaps Jean has heightened olfactory senses, although she never comes right out and says she does. If the onset of heightened olfactory senses is a new development, it's possible Jean is turning into a werewolf, which would suit her well, since such creatures are not muzzled by morality conflicts.

Kevin Killian, "A Love Like That"

A hotel guest lures a bellboy to his demise, just another day in the life of a drag queen mass murderer.

(from Little Men)

You'd think from the description this story would be some kinda thrillride, but it's just sorta dark and plodding. This story is pretty inventive, but the language is cumbersome and over-explanatory.
Here is some other stuff by this author.

Joshua Furst, "The Age of Exploration"

Billy and Jason are both six years old. One's a scientist and the other's a dreamer.

(from Short People)

Really what grabs you about this story is the author's ability to describe the children's feelings , observations and habits without making them seem too childish. It's pretty remarkable the credit the unseen narrator gives the characters while never letting you forget these are just silly little kids. Their personalities are distinct, and recognizeable without straying into the archectypal. A fun read. Here's a line I like: "The neighborhood reeks of bad science."
Flipping through, it looks like all of these stories are about kids, which could get old.

China Miéville, "Reports of Certain Events In London"

The author/narrator receives a mysterious package intended for somebody at a seemingly non-existent address.

(from McSweeney's Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories)

The story is slowly unveiled via excerpts from files and letters written by a mysterious organization tracking something. But what? I'm not going to spoil it. This is well-paced and stunningly original. Seriously. It takes a common phenomenon and effs with it. And it's effin with you.

This author is so cool, he's apparently got an unofficial homepage.

Leigh Newman, "Listening for Marianne"

When her grandson goes missing, Barbara comes back to see her daughter.

(from One Story, issue number 52)

A sharp and touching story told through my favorite perspective: The Unreliable Narrator. I like how the vivid is presented alongside the blurry. Some things you are told, and others you sort of work out. Nice.

This marks my first entry from One Story, which will send me a new story every three weeks or so. $21 buys you 18 issues. Each story comes individually, in the form of a little booklet. It's neato. So is Maura K. Johnston, who tipped me off to it.

One Story has a Q&A with Leigh Newman here.