Saturday, December 31, 2022
Did Best American Short Stories 2022 move me?
Saturday, December 17, 2022
Something there is that loves a wall: "Foster" by Bryan Washington
Tuesday, December 13, 2022
Now with 33% more "what"!: "Elephant Seals" by Meghan Louise Wagner
As intricate as a story as "Elephant Seals" is, I actually don't have that much to say about it. I suspect most writers who read this story will immediately be reminded, as I was, of Margaret Atwood's "Happy Endings." Atwood's short story is taught in almost every "introduction to the short story" class, not just because it's a good story, but because it has a lot to say about plot. Like "Elephant Seals," it's got alternate story lines and multiple possible endings. It's famous for the line dismissing plot, calling it a "what and a what and a what." "Elephant Seals," by committing to the idea for much longer than "Happy Endings" does, might be thought of as a "what and a what and a what and a what."
One interesting thing about "Elephant Seals" is that it frequently refers to "versions," but it doesn't actually call them "versions of the story." The opening line has it that "Most versions of Paul and Diana stop to see the elephant seals on their way to California." Not "most versions of the story of Paul and Diana." Are we dealing with a multiple dimensions story, like when interdimensional cable television on an episode of "Rick and Morty" lets everyone see their alternate lives in other universes?
This seems more likely than it being "multiple versions of a story that I created." If so, what's striking is that there is so much consistency from universe to universe. If there are infinite universes, there ought to be infinite universes in which Paul and Diana never meet at all. There ought to be infinite universes in which they never even existed. Instead, they seem to meet in most universes. There are some in which Paul is killed along with his parents at age fifteen when their store is robbed, but in most versions, we are told, Paul and Diana do end up meeting each other.
That's kind of a key to the whole story. Multiverse theory can be very disorienting. It's the defining character trait of Rick on "Rick and Morty" to feel overwhelmed by ennui because his interdimensional portal gun allows him to see just how pointless we all are in a multiverse that has infinite versions of us. For Rick, what sliver of meaning that exists comes from him being the best version of all the Ricks, the "Rickest Rick."
In "Elephant Seals," there's less of a focus on which version of a person is the best than on which version is the most authentic. Although there's only one version of Paul that "gets it right," it's not really about this version being the best; it's about this version being the most "Paul."
That's the point of the touching closing:
"They travel between eleven and thirteen thousand miles each migration cycle, farther than any pinniped....They eat fish and squid and creatures that only dwell in the deepest, darkest ocean floors. They go out in the world and explore, but they always return to the same spots, the same beaches, year after year. They don't forget where they come from. They don't forget where they really live."
What orients people in "Elephant Seals," even in a cosmos where a multitude of cosmoses is possible, is that there is some authentic us that continues to crop up over and over again. There's some "home," even in the infinite multiverse, that we find ourselves constantly coming back to. That's how "most versions" of us can end up doing the same things, even though in an infinity of choices, there shouldn't be a "most" anything. There should be infinite universes in which we all don't exist. Instead, most universes, perhaps because even the multiverse has some basic true character to which most universes tend, will create the same people doing more or less similar things.
I don't know if I believe in the multiverse. I don't know if, assuming the multiverse exists, this is a particularly soothing vision of it. It's possible that it really all does mean nothing. I might be the shittiest version of me that exists. Lately, I've certainly been thinking that might be the case. Nonetheless, I do like the story for having a point about life in the multiverse that I can at least understand.
Sunday, December 11, 2022
Two kinds of replacing: "The Sins of Others" by Hector Tobar
Different kinds of replacements
The ending is about to get a little bit strange. |
Weedwolf
Saturday, December 10, 2022
The First Rule of Quasi-Affair Club: "Ten Year Affair" by Erin Somers
If done right, the quasi-affair or "emotional affair" will never leave you like this person, inexplicably taking the time to button his shirt instead of just leaving quickly and buttoning it outside. |
Okay, I've teased the rules a lot now, so what are they? There aren't a lot.
Yeah, I Fight Clubbed my rules. |
Do you see what Cora did wrong, class?
Friday, December 9, 2022
The opposite of history: "Mr. Ashok's Monument" by Sanjena Sathian
The public and the personal in parallel
Sunday, December 4, 2022
More lamenting than preventing: "The Ghost Birds" by Karen Russell
Once the sky became deeded property, Surveillers started patrolling the hazy air above the lonely scrublands and evaporated lakes. Their employers are paranoid in proportion to the suffering that surrounds them; they seem to feel that anyone who casts a shadow in a Red Zone is an “ecoterrorist.” We joke that they must want to keep the escape routes to the moon clear....My daughter mercifully missed the land grabs and the water wars fought above the rasping aquifers. The sky is what has been colonized in her lifetime—a private highway system branching out of Earth’s shallows into outer space, its imaginary lines conjured into legal reality and policed with blood-red force. A single human being now claims to own all the sky that lifts from the Andes to Mars.