"Cold Little Bird" by Ben Marcus

This story can be found in the October 19, 2015 issue of The New Yorker magazine. 


First Line: "It started with bedtime.  A coldness.  A formality."

Last Line: "On the cover a boy, arms outspread, was gripping wires in each hand, and his whole body was glowing."

I have not been so stunned and haunted by a short story since I read Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" in high school. 

And I mean that in a good way - in a "falling over and dripping with inexpressible words of praise" kind of way.

Wow.

Read it AND listen to it on SoundCloud.

Wow.

A story with no real resolution at the end (amazing Chekhovian style!), and a possibility of hope, but that even that possibility isn't solid. The only solid thing here is hurt.  It is the only thing that is tangible and seemingly immovable.

This story is not "inventive" - who said that fiction is more honest than truth?  "Cold Little Bird" is realistic with spot-on dialogue, eerie insight into the mind of the male protagonist, and a truthful examination of the affects a child's troubles can have on a marriage, a family.

A husband and wife and their two sons.  One very normal.  One very not - or is he just "sarcastic" or "acting out" because of his parents' tensions?  

Martin and Rachel respond to Jonah differently - and that is to be expected.  One parent is a man and the other is a woman.  And their reactions to each other's response is completely understandable.  The influence we have on those we love is fantastically deeper than we can imagine.

"Grow-Light Blues" is the only other Ben Marcus story I have read... but I am convinced of his power as a story-teller.  His tales are timely and well-crafted, touching uncomfortable topics in a unique way...

Photo credit: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/38/Ben_marcus_3041200.JPG/220px-Ben_marcus_3041200.JPG
 

"The Apartment" by Jensen Beach

This story can be found in the August 31, 2015 issue of The New Yorker.

First Line: "Louise knew by the new name on the call box that someone had moved in."

Last Line: "She leaned forward, devoted, filling her mouth with the bread as if she were kneeling at the altar of a darkened church."

I am still working on another project - I will be done soon.  I am looking forward to diving deeper into fiction.

I listened to this story on SoundCloud and I was irritated by all of the identifiers (she, she, SHE), yet despite the jarring sound, I enjoyed Louise's company.  I fell into a sad, hopeless kind of love with her.  A blind compassion settled over me, and while I could appreciate that other characters in the piece found this woman pathetic, I could not judge her so.

The setting - the apartment - became a confidante for the alcoholic woman.  It held her secrets.  It held her attention.  It coddled her with memories that may not be true.

A solid story. 

Photo Credit: https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/1876032290/peacock_and_me_400x400.jpg