Steven Millhauser, "Tales Of Darkness And The Unknown, Vol . X I V, The White Glove"

from Tin House, #44


—She reminded me of things I liked: streetlights at night, a peaceful room.


This story, for me, held magic. I found myself completely engrossed. I loved the characters, the language, the mystery, the tone, the whole thing. This one just touched me. I’ll use the word magic again—this one felt magical, although there was no “magic” practiced in it.

Will becomes friends with Emily. She seems to suit some particular need he has for calmness and quiet, and their relationship blooms. But then she mysteriously begins wearing a single white glove on her left hand. The mystery is powerful for Will. What is she hiding? Why won’t she show him? Will as simple a thing as a single glove disrupt his whole comfortable relationship?

I can’t say enough about how much I enjoyed this one, but I fear saying too much and risk spoiling it. If you would like to read an excerpt you can find it here. But it’s only a little taste.

T. C. Boyle, "The Silence"

from The Atlantic, Fiction 2010

—he sat there, legs folded under him in the blaze of 118-degree heat, thinking alternately: This is working, and I am losing my mind.


This story was sort of elusive for me. A man is abandoning his old life, and striking off on a new path with his new wife. He’s an initiate in a buddhist retreat and is embarking on an extended period of adherence to a vow of silence. And even just those couple of sentences, describing in broad strokes the plot of this story, evoke in me a sense of ambivalence.

The quest for liberation, which is the word he uses to describe at one point why he is there in the desert, is a noble one. I think most would agree. And yet this man seems at times to be so ill-prepared to be on that stated mission, that I feel both sad for him and his amateurishness and admire him for the audacity of it.

And that’s how this whole story feels to me, like it exists in two different yet simultaneous states. Some sort of Schrödinger’s story. Either incredibly insightful and rich, or oddly empty. Kind of fascinating in a way, but quantum mechanics isn’t really my bag.

Katie Williams, "Bone Hinge"

from The Atlantic, Fiction 2010


—When we were little, Hattie and I would wake to a yard decorated with dead crows strung up by the mystics in the night. The birds bent the tree branches from which they hung, pendulous ornaments, their amber eyes like glass beads.


Aside from my belief that crows don’t have amber eyes, these couple of sentences hint at what I thought might have become an interesting story. Instead, I felt this one was fairly ordinary despite the somewhat bizarre premise and title. Conjoined twins bicker and fall out over a boy at a dye factory.

This one felt like there were interesting individual pieces, but the end result was just rather ordinary. I liked the idea of the dye factory, and that the boy at the heart of the quarrel between the girls had hands of a different color every time they met. I also liked the idea of the “mystics” who objected to the existence of the girls. There were hints about magic and dark secrets in the town. But the story bypassed all of that and instead played out a simple conflict between two people who just happen to be physically joined to each other.

George Saunders, "Fox 8"

from McSweeney’s, #33 (Panorama)

I don’t usually go in for the dialect thing, but in this story I found it amusing. And that’s probably how I would classify the story too—amusing. The tale itself is really a very basic one. Our main character, Fox 8, learns a thing or two about humans, becomes fascinated with them, and eventually witnesses something he can’t really comprehend.

There is nothing new about the idea of taking a look at a subject from a completely different perspective. Sometimes it takes putting yourself into the shoes of a complete outsider before you can begin to see yourself. And that is just what the author has done in this story. The perspective is of what we would call a wild animal, but at the end you sort of have to wonder who really is wild?

Is it a revelation? Probably not. Has it been done before? Surely. Is it effective nonetheless? Absolutely.

Benjamin Percy, "The Mud Man"

from The Southern Review, Winter 2010, Vol. 46, No. 1

This was a simple but competently told tale of a man lost to himself and his family, with only his work to hold onto.

He suddenly finds himself assisted in his day to day household life by a man who springs from the mud of his garden and from a drop of his blood. At first the help is appreciated, but at what point does assistance cross the line and become interference? And which of these men is more alive?

The story is a little predictable, but nonetheless has impact.

Anthony Doerr, "Memory Wall"

from McSweeney’s, #32

Another one from the latest McSweeney’s where all the stories are set in the year 2024. This one takes places in South Africa and in memory. This is also the first time I’ve posted about the same author for a second time. It had to happen eventually, and this seems like a good opportunity because I am rather liking what this guy is doing.

This story is about an elderly woman named Alma who is having her memories, especially those of her dead husband Harold, extracted and stored in cartridges to replay later and to forestall her descent into dementia. It is also about her house servant Pheko and his sickly son, as well as about the pair of individuals who are breaking into her house at night and reliving her memories in search of a specific memory.

At first its a little confused, but as we begin to understand Alma’s state of mind and being then the rest of the story falls into place. There is a gradual reveal springing from her relived memories of her life with her husband, and the introduction of a young man, Pheko, her house servant, and the role we seeing him playing now as she becomes more and more senile, and we also begin to learn what it is the two night intruders are looking for as they pillage her memories without invite.

Much like the other story I’ve read by this author recently, “The River Nemunas,” this one has an awful lot going on. The author is able to bring many seemingly disparate threads and somehow tie them all together into a cohesive whole; quite masterful, I think. I’ll be looking out for more by him.

Anthony Doerr, "The River Nemunas"

from Tin House, #40

—I think when I die I’d like to be tied to ten thousand balloons, so I could go floating into the clouds...

This Story has a little of everything: an orphan, relocation to a strange country, a nice grandfather, a strange neighbor, a new school and new friends, a poodle and a fish and a white horse, considerations about life and death, bitter-sweet memories, some lovely language, and a little taste of something that is almost magic.

I can’t really begin to tell you what it’s about, but I can tell you that it’s good. Real good!