I don’t know what I’m looking for today, but I’m having a hard time finding it. I’ve read, in between classes and over my lunch hour, about fifteen shorts, and I feel more restless and angry with every passing story about cancer or the state of writing or the loss of a job or the death of a parent or the loss of a special pet.
So, instead of writing about a new story I’ve been lucky to find, I’ll take a page from Lam Phan’s blog and list a few stories I wish I’d written.
“The First Several Hundred Years Following My Death” Shawn Vestal
- I still think about this story almost daily, and have, for better or worse, basically taken it on as my own inevitable future. I ask myself: “how many total minutes have I spent untangling earphones? I’m probably going to regret this.” I ask myself: “should I do this cool thing I don’t really want to do, or should I eat this weird food I don’t really want to eat – just as a favor to my future dead self?”
“The Beginnings of Grief” Adam Haslett
- The perfect ending.
“Someone Ought To Tell Her There’s Nowhere to Go” Danielle Evans
- Every story in this collection is like a small novel. I’ve only ever felt this way about Flannery O’Connor, and Evans is nothing like O’Connor in delivery or structure.
“The Safehouse” Michel Faber
- I think it’s the image of the beds in the safehouse that are at once menacing and comforting.