Burn Your Maps by Robyn Joy Leff
My rating: 4/5 cats
WELCOME TO DECEMBER PROJECT!
boilerplate mission statement intro:
for the past two years, i’ve set december’s project aside to do my own version of a short story advent calendar. it’s not a true advent calendar since i choose all the stories myself, but what it lacks in the ‘element of surprise’ department it more than makes up for in hassle, as i try to cram even MORE reading into a life already overcrammed with impossible personal goals (live up to your potential! find meaningful work! learn to knit!) merry merry wheee!
since i am already well behind in my *regular* reviewing, when it comes to these stories, whatever i poop out as far as reflections or impressions are going to be superficial and perfunctory at best. please do not weep for the great big hole my absented, much-vaunted critical insights are gonna leave in these daily review-spaces (and your hearts); i’ll try to drop shiny insights elsewhere in other reviews, and here, i will at least drop links to where you can read the stories yourselves for free, which – let’s be honest – is gonna serve you better anyway.
HAPPY READING, BOOKNERDS!
links to all stories read in previous years’ calendars can be found at the end of these reviews, in case you are a person who likes to read stories for free:
2016: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show…
2017: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show…
scroll down for links to this year’s stories which i will update as we go, and if you have any suggestions, send ’em my way! the only rules are: it must be available free online (links greatly appreciated), and it must be here on gr as its own thing so i can review it. thank you in advance!
DECEMBER 7
“Are you a father?”
“Of course,” he answers. “But my children, they are not with me in my home. So I think I do not ‘have’ them, as you say.”
“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry, then.”
“That’s no problem,” he says. “But you. I think you look very bad. Unhappy.”
“No sleep. My son is acting a little weird, and my husband is angry.”
“Anger is for husbands,” Ismail says with a shrug. “That is the way.”
“I know, but this is different. We disagree about Wes. About how best to raise him. You understand?”
Ismail, perched above me in his chair, lowers a hand, seemingly toward my hair, and then lets it slide away. “In this country,” he says, “I cannot imagine to be a father. Your problems, they are so—” I think he’s going to say “ridiculous”—”decadent.”
this is the perfect example of what an american short story looks like. if that sounds bitchy to you, you probably hate america, but i don’t – GO, TEAM! i’m frequently embarrassed by america, but not because of the quality of its short stories. all i mean is that this is the kind of story you’d expect to find in an anthology of “best american stories of the year” because its shape, structure, and themes are all embodying a distinctly american brand of storytelling and it is a very good example of this brand of storytelling. so – ‘american.’ so – ‘best.’
unfortunately, that’s all i can do today in the ‘reviewing’ game. i am not having a wonderful day, but i don’t want to fall behind in this self-appointed goal to one-a-day these, not this early into it, anyway. but hey – that’s another theme of this story, although not a specifically american one: not all of the days are going to be great. things will frequently be quite lousy. will you overcome them and find happiness and harmony again? no one knows because sometimes stories end abruptly.
read it for yourself here:
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/…
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