A fine story from playwright David Rabe in current New Yorker

David Rabe, best known for his work as a playwright, has a somewhat long story in the current (double-issue, supposedly) New Yorker, Uncle Jim Called, which begins with a bang: the narrator, living alone in his NYC (it seems) apartment as his wife and daughter are visiting family in California, spending the evening quietly drinking and watching TV, receives a call from his uncle - who is dead. This begins a series of events in which his two (dead) uncles call him several times, asking to speak w/ his (late) mother, and generally being nasty and accusatory, washing the narrator (Glenn) in guilt and fear. The uncles begin a more active pursuit, showing up at the doorway of the apartment building, following Glenn in the street. He seeks several remedies - considers seeing a psychiatrist but rejects all options, visits a private detective but walks out of the office before their meeting begins, as his life continues to spiral downward. I won't divulge the conclusion, but it's a harrowing moment that, for some readers, may topple expectations. The writing is clean and direct, as we'd expect from a top playwright (wonder if there could be a staged version of this story?), and it's always good to see an actual story and not an excerpt from a forthcoming novel in the NYer.