Joseph O'Neill has seemed to me, based on my readings of some of his fiction, like a guy whom I'd along with if I knew him (which I don't), though I'm afraid he wouldn't like me at all if he reads this interpretation of his story, The Flier, in the current New Yorker (which he won't). The story is about a 30-something man who's been wasting away w an illness for some time and has suddenly learned that he is able to fly. Long story short toward the end of the story a woman friend shows up at flier's apartment threatened by her gun toting partner; flier decides to use his magical power to fly down to lobby of the building at defuse the fight. He does fly down but it doesn't seem he does anything other than recount to us what happens in the lobby and elevator - turning him in effect into an omniscient narrator. So what I would say the flying represents is the "magical" ability of a narrator to relate to readers a story - beyond the narrative capacity of a human. And at the end as the flier looks back many years on his lost ability to "fly" I suspect what lies behind this is the mature O'Neill's loss of his early narrative success - in particular w his great novel Netherland, which drew attention and praise beyond any young writer's hopes and dreams - and a renown JO has not (yet?) replicated. Or maybe I'm way off but if so you tell me: what's this story about?
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