Lightning Strike

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.

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