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Monday, February 4, 2019

A story about a troubled family in current New Yoker

Two things I dislike about many contemporary short stories are, first, the use of sentence fragments to establish a scene or a mood. Fragments inevitably feel to me like incomplete thoughts and disconnected sense data. A sentence is thoughtful and elegant and serves the purpose of introducing action and perception into a scene or moment and linking the characters to the setting and to one another. Fragments are shorthand; sentences are completed articulation. Second, I hate that many stories introduce too many characters, by first-name only, within the first few paragraphs of the story, leaving me constantly thinking, wait, who's that one", the brother or the boyfriend or the dad? Emma Cline's story in the current New Yorker with the inexplicable (to me) title, What Can You Do with a General (no question mark, either), suffers from both these annoying tics  - sentence fragments and slew of characters, John, Linda, Sasha, Richard (who never even appears!), et al right at the start. Ugh. These problems aside, I have to say that she does a good job delineating the inter-relationships in a troubled family that suffers from first-world problems: they live in what seems to be a fabulously expensive tract in the Bay Area, and the centers on the family xmas gathering w/ particular attention to the sullen elder daughter. Though she writes w/ little affection for any of the characters, the spoiled elder, Sasha, as the least likable of the lot, selfish and mean to her parents. I kept expecting the story to build toward a crisis and a denouement, which it doesn't. Should the father tell her off for her adolescent behavior when he's trying to help her out after she's lost her luggage in flight? Should she take off to see her left-behind boyfriend - or maybe he should show up unannounced? But this is, intentionally, a story w/ no arc, ending up with everyone right where they were when the weekend (the story) started. It's a story of domestic distress - but its arc lies flat.

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