"You Don't Get to Do This:" New Fiction in BULL Magazine

Hi there. I'm a couple days late posting this, but I have a new short story up in BULL Magazine. It's one of my longer stories (and maybe my longest published story to date? I'm not sure, but it's definitely in the top three). The title is "You Don't Get to Do This," and explores a variety of subjects, from impulses, desire, special needs parenting, and how we react to unhappiness.

You can read the story here.

Thank you to editor Benjamin Drevlow for giving this work a home, and for an enjoyable path from acceptance to a beautiful publication.

This piece is part of my short story collection, which I'm in the processing of editing as we speak. Well, we're not actually speaking; and I'm writing this post, so that means I'm not actually working on my edits. You know what I mean. Don't look at me like that.

I hope you enjoy reading my work. The latest issue of BULL is full of great work, and I'm honored to be a tiny part of that collective.

2018 Readings, 2019 Goals

Welcome to 2019, and welcome to my annual reading recap.

Here's what I wrote last year:

"For 2018, I want to double down on small press support, especially with so many eagerly anticipated titles forthcoming. I'm not going to make any grand, specific goals, because I'll undoubtedly fail, so I'll shoot for 60-70 books.

I have a Goodreads account, but I only use it to update my readings, not to rate or review titles, I'm going to do that more this year, but I feel uneasy with the horribly unscientific nature of the site, but I do know that ratings are helpful for small press writers. In lieu of ratings or playing favorites, the books that I've highlighted in bold spoke to me in various ways. You can call these my favorites, or merely strong highlights."

While I didn't make any "grand, specific goals," I did fall short of my 60-70 book goal, ending 2018 with 43 books read. And I said I'd use Goodreads more, but I went in the exact opposite direction: over the summer, I took a social media break, and in the process, I deleted my Goodreads account. There were a couple factors in this decision. One, Amazon. Two, Amazon. The company has owned Goodreads for a couple years now, and while its sometimes (sadly) the only option for some small presses, I just couldn't take the layout, the star ratings, the lists with no substance, the marketing gimmicks. What this means for me is I'll simply have to do better myself about supporting small presses, writers, and journals in ways outside Goodreads. I'm almost never on Facebook anymore, but I might have to take a "lesser of two evils" approach and use my Facebook more to highlight new books and writers I discover in 2019. I believe I do that well enough on Twitter, but I'll double down and make sure I do across multiple platforms, but breaks and gaps will happen.

2019 reading goals: the usual, right ones. Read more, support indie presses, and read diversely.

Happy New Year, y'all.


1.) A Childhood: The Biography of a Place by Harry Crews

2.) The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

3.) Stephen Florida by Gabe Habash

4.) Edinburgh by Alexander Chee

5.) How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America by Kiese Laymon

6.) Bad Anatomy by Hannah Cohen

7.) The Border of Paradise by Esmé Weijun Wang

8.) The Science of Unvanishing Objects by Chloe N. Clark

9.) Eats of Eden by Tabitha Blankenbiller

10.) White Girls by Hilton Als

11.) Sour Heart by Jenny Zhang

12.) Cult of Loretta by Kevin Maloney

13.) Whiskey & Ribbons by Leesa Cross-Smith

14.) Marriage of a Thousand Lies by SJ Sindu

15.) Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar

16.) We Are Never Meeting in Real Life by Samantha Irby

17.) So Sad Today by Melissa Broder

18.) This Will be My Undoing by Morgan Jerkins

19.) Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin

20.) How to Be Safe by Tom McAllister

21.) Back Talk by Danielle Lazarin

22.) Nobody Knows My Name by James Baldwin

23.) The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

24.) No Name in the Street by James Baldwin

25.) The Thibodaux Massacre by John DeSantis

26.) The Devil Finds Work by James Baldwin

27.) Clock Dance by Anne Tyler

28.) Redeployment by Phil Klay

29.) Tell Me If You're Lying by Sarah Sweeney

30.) An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

31.) Southern Cryptozoology: A Field Guide to Beasts of the Southern Wild by Allie Marini

32.) The Girl & the Fox Pirate by Kate Gehan

33.) Hungry People by Tasha Coryell

34.) Feel Free by Zadie Smith

35.) The Third Hotel by Laura van den Berg

36.) Destroy All Monsters by Jeff Jackson

37.) Florida by Lauren Groff

38.) How to Sit by Tyrese Coleman

39.) Pretend We Live Here by Genevieve Hudson

40.) The Incendiaries by R.O. Kwon

41.) The Wrong Way to Save Your Life by Megan Stielstra

42.) Person by Sam Pink

43.) The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai

"Secret Astronauts:" New Fiction in Necessary Fiction

Good evening, y'all, and a happy belated Thanksgiving.

I'm a couple days late posting this, but I have a new short story up and ready to read: my short piece "Secret Astronauts" is now available on Necessary Fiction.

I'm grateful for all of my publication homes, but this one is especially sweet. Necessary Fiction was one of literary websites I fell in love with years ago, when I renewed my commitment to serious reading and fiction writing. I've written a couple book reviews for them, and submitted fiction sporadically over the years. So yeah, keep trying with the places you love. This is a damn honor in many ways.

Thank you to Steve Himmer and the great Lacey N. Dunham, who not only accepted my work, but also made diligent edits to make my work even stronger. The little things she noticed were necessary (no pun, no), and helped so much with continuity and strength. I wouldn't have blamed Lacey for passing on this based on the edits it needed, but they saw something there, were willing to work with me, and are very much responsible for the smoothness here. Thank you, Lacey. Hug your editors, always.

I hope you enjoy reading my work. Huzzah. I'm still thankful.

The Literary Magazine Project: Introduction

In the past, when I updated this blog regularly, I often did two things consistently: 1.) I'd have a great idea, say something along the lines of "I'll write about this soon!", and then never get back to it. 2.) I'd recognize this failure, claim to not make plans in writing, and then the cycle would repeat again.

But in this case, I'm taking on a smaller scale project for 2017, and I think the benefits I'll outline here have merit.

The accompanying photo shows two shelves of back issue literary magazines and journals. While I'm sure others have much more impressive collections, I have to admit that I haven't finished a lot of these. There are a handful that I've read front to back, some issues I've read selections out of, and some that I haven't touched. People love to talk about collecting books, and this word has spawned endless memes and book posts. But what about literary magazines? Are they counted as books, especially when piled up? Or should they be considered their own class?

This also came about because there are many books I want to reread this year, and I realized that nobody talks about rereading literary magazines. I'm not under the assumption that I'm doing anything unique or radical. This is my own project, to help myself as I put more emphasis on supporting the literary community that has supported me.

I'm not concerned with definitions; what I am concerned with is dusting off some older archives, and giving new attention to pieces that might not have been widely read in the last couple years. When literary magazines are published, they receive attention, hopefully some sales, but this often isn't sustained. The bump in sales and clicks is probably at its strongest when the issue debuts. What I'm hoping for is a renewal of this energy.

So for the rest of 2017, I'm going to read these all from beginning to end, and I'll document hidden gems, early pieces from now well-known writers, and give older literature a bump.

I'll also add to my collection as the year goes on, through single issues that I find and through subscriptions that I'll be taking out in due time. As for online literary journals, I'll work those in, but I'm not sure how. For now, the focus is on the printed, physical ones, especially in this age when not many journals still produce actual magazines.

I started this last night, and I already made a pleasant discovery: I'm reading a 2010 issue of Eleven Eleven Journal, and I read an early piece by Alissa Nutting, one of my favorite fiction writers. I'll include more analysis when I report back on the issue, but this is what I want: to see the early development of writers, and to discover names that have slipped under my radar. Maybe these are writers who are still widely published; maybe I'll fall in love with a story by someone who published one piece of fiction in 2012 and never published again.

I'll either do single issue recaps, multiple issue analysis, or a combination of the two. I might incorporate online magazines as well, but this will mostly be devoted to the physical copies, old and new.

If anything else comes to mind, I'll update this post accordingly. For now, I like this foundation, and I'm eager to really get it moving.

2016 Readings, 2017 Goals

Happy New Year, y'all. Here's my annual reading recap.

For starters, this is what I wrote last year, when I revisited my 2015 readings: "In 2016, I want to read more classics, more international translations, and spend more money on small press titles. My goals will fluctuate as the year goes on, but I think that's a good starting point."

Back in 2015, I read 93 books. This year, my total went down to 55, but I have good excuses. First, my girlfriend and I moved from Chicago to Lafayette, Louisiana for her PhD candidacy. From packing, to planning, to coordinating the drive down south (helped immensely by my brother and sister-in-law), reading time was taken up by this. I also started teaching English at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. I highly enjoyed teaching, but was unaccustomed to how time consuming it is. Lesson planning, class readings, assignment preparations, student meetings, grading, and general anxiety about essentially performing four times a week in front of nearly fifty students: I read fewer books from September to December. I started several, but they took over a month to read when they should've taken a week at most.

My goals for 2017 as a reader aren't as detailed as my goals as a writer. I (still) want to spend more money on small press titles, because we as a community need to sustain them. I'm not preaching from a soapbox, because I could have done more to financially support worthy literary organizations. With the Trump administration just weeks away (oh fuck, just typing that makes me angry), small presses will need to to remain voices and homes for the voices that might be silenced or marginalized by the powers that be. I want to remain optimistic about 2017, but deep down, I worry it'll be a shitshow. So, I want to do less talking about supporting diverse demographics and more buying, reading, and promoting of them.

So this means I'll do everything I can to help small presses and literary magazines. I also have an entire shelf of great literary magazine back issues (Hobart, American Short Fiction, Fence, Tin House) that need attention.

I'd love to hear your goals, too. As always, I'm eager for recommendations.

Here's to 2017. As we read and write, don't forget to fight back against the backwards thinking that wants to prevail in our culture. This is a challenge to myself more than anything.

My 2016 readings are listed below:



1.) Mothers, Tell Your Daughters by Bonnie Jo Campbell

2.) Crazy Horse's Girlfriend by Erika T. Wurth

3.) Negroland by Margo Jefferson

4.) Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexual by Patricia Lockwood

5.) Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh

6.) Go Tell It On the Mountain by James Baldwin

7.) The Unfinished World and Other Stories by Amber Sparks

8.) Blood Runs Green: The Murder That Transfixed Gilded Age Chicago by Gillian O'Brien

9.) Not Dark Yet by Berit Ellingsen

10.) Elegy/Elk River by Michael Schmeltzer

11.) What Belongs to You by Garth Greenwell

12.) The Girl Who Could Only Say 'sex, drugs, and rock & roll' by Kendra Fortmeyer

13.) The Farmacist by Ashley Farmer

14.) The Revelator by Robert Kloss

15.) Slut Lullabies by Gina Frangello

16.) Find Me by Laura van den Berg

17.) The Ghost Network by Catie Disabato

18.) The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan

19.) Cataclysm Baby by Matt Bell (re-read)

20.) A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James

21.) If I Knew the Way, I Would Take You Home by Dave Housley

22.) The Upper Peninsula Misses You by Mark Magoon

23.) A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

24.) Long, Last, Happy: New and Collected Stories by Barry Hannah

25.) The Vegetarian by Han Kang

26.) Madness, Rack, and Honey by Mary Ruefle

27.) The South Side: A Portrait of Chicago and American Segregation by Natalie Y. Moore

28.) Please Don't Be Upset and Other Stories by Brandi Wells

29.) The New York Stories by Ben Tanzer

30.) The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

31.) My Only Wife by Jac Jemc (re-read)

32.) Tuesday Nights in 1980 by Molly Prentiss

33.) Boys Among Men: How the Prep-to-Pro Generation Redefined the NBA by Jonathan Abrams

34.) Beloved by Toni Morrison (re-read)

35.) Chronicle of a Last Summer by Yasmine El Rashidi

36.) Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

37.) Marrow Island by Alexis M. Smith

38.) The Tennessee Highway Death Chant by Keegan Jennings Goodman

39.) McGlue by Ottessa Moshfegh

40.) The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead

41.) Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks

42.) Dandarians: Poems by Lee Ann Roripaugh

43.) Insurrections: Stories by Rion Amilcar Scott

44.) Twenty Grand and Other Tales of Love and Money by Rebecca Curtis

45.) Mesogeios by Steve Karas

46.) Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

47.) How the Post Office Created America: A History by Winifred Gallagher

48.) Sex Object: A Memoir by Jessica Valenti

49.) The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks About Race edited by Jesmyn Ward

50.) Him, Me, Muhammad Ali by Randa Jarrar

51.) No Man's Wild Laura by Beth Gilstrap

52.) The Hundred-Year House by Rebecca Makkai

53.) Sing the Song by Meredith Alling

54.) Swing Time by Zadie Smith

55.) You Know When the Men Are Gone by Siobhan Fallon

2014 Readings, 2015 Goals

Happy New Year!

As I've done the last two years, I'm recapping the books I read in the last calendar year, and sharing some goals for this next year. Last January, my goals were:

"... in 2014, I want to read 65-70 books. I'm currently halfway through Ben Tanzer's Orphans (a science fiction novel, something I didn't touch upon last year, depending on one's definition) and I'm starting NoViolet Bulawayo's We Need New Names, which starts me off on an ongoing goal to read more minority and women writers. So yeah, I'm pleased. My focus is more on writing, but reading is essential to that balance."

I'm pleased to note that I went above that estimate and finished with 81 titles. Throughout the year, I thought I was reading more women writers than men, but after reviewing my list, the total wasn't as high as I hoped. So for 2015, I want my final tally to be 75-80% women writers, and with more minority and GLBT voices as well (any recommendations? I'd love to hear them). I'm not going to make a number prediction. I was happy to break 80 titles, and if I stay within the 70-80 range, I'll be happy. As I always say: quality beats quantity. With that in mind, I'm not ranking these titles under any "great/good/mediocre" categories, but merely writing out the reading list chronologically.

I'm writing my own novel this year, so any reading I do will be done with an eye for narrative voice, syntax, and spacing as I attempt to make sense of my own project. So, without further ado, here are the books I knocked out in 2014:

1.) Orphans by Ben Tanzer

2.) We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo

3.) The Isle of Youth by Laura van den Berg

4.) Leaving the Sea by Ben Marcus

5.) Remainder by Tom McCarthy

6.) Praying Drunk by Kyle Minor

7.) Blood and Soap by Linh Dinh

8.) The Body Artist by Don DeLillo

9.) Samedi the Deafness by Jesse Ball

10.) Annie John by Jamaica Kincaid

11.) Threats by Amelia Gray

12.) AM/PM by Amelia Gray (re-read)

13.) The Art of Time in Memoir: Then, Again by Sven Birkerts

14.) Bluets by Maggie Nelson

15.) Fugue State by Brian Evenson

16.) One Hundred Apocalypses and Other Apocalypses by Lucy Corin

17.) Steps by Jerzy Kosinski

18.) Street of Crocodiles by Bruno Schulz

19.) China Cowboy by Kim Gek Lin Short

20.) Embassytown by China Mieville

21.) Lost in Space by Ben Tanzer

22.) The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

23.) The Fun We've Had by Michael J. Seidlinger

24.) The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon

25.) Dept. of Speculation by Jenny Offill

26.) You Only Get Letters From Jail by Jodi Angel

27.) The Lover by Marguerite Duras

28.) The Weirdness by Jeremy P. Bushnell

29.) Up Up and Away by Jonah Keri

30.) The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick

31.) Every Kiss a War by Leesa Cross-Smith

32.) Big Bad Asterisk* by Carlo Matos

33.) The Last Days of California by Mary Miller

34.) Horse, Flower, Bird by Kate Bernheimer

35.) Every Day is For the Thief by Teju Cole

36.) Sky Girl by Rosemary Griggs

37.) The Karaoke Singer's Guide to Self-Defense by Tim Kinsella

38.) Motorman by David Ohle

39.) The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilanovich

40.) The Holy Ghost People by Joshua Young

41.) Angry White Men by Michael Kimmel

42.) The Great Frustration by Seth Fried

43.) Fast Machine by Elizabeth Ellen

44.) Backswing by Aaron Burch

45.) You Feel So Mortal by Peggy Shinner

46.) The Crystal Eaters by Shane Jones

47.) The New Black, various writers, edited by Richard Thomas

48.) Neverhome by Laird Hunt

49.) Alone in America by Robert Ferguson

50.) Cutting Teeth by Julia Fierro

51.) Notable American Women by Ben Marcus

52.) If I Would Leave Myself Behind by Lauren Becker

53.) Battleborn by Claire Vaye Watkins

54.) Commercial Fiction by Dave Housley

55.) Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald

56.) Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy (re-read)

57.) Princesse de Cleves by Madame de Lafayette

58.) Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (re-read)

59.) Democracy by Joan Didion

60.) Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe

61.) The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

62.) Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift (re-read)

63.) Why Did I Ever by Mary Robison

64.) Candide by Voltaire

65.) The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

66.) A Sentimental Journey by Laurence Sterne

67.) Sprawl by Danielle Dutton

68.) Tom Jones by Henry Fielding

69.) The Poor Man's Guide to an Affordable, Painless Suicide by Schuler Benson

70.) Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay

71.) Distant Star by Roberto Bolano

72.) Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

73.) Women by Chloe Caldwell

74.) Excavation by Wendy C. Ortiz

75.) Binary Star by Sarah Gerard

76.) Forest of Fortune by Jim Ruland

77.) Once I Was Cool by Megan Stielstra

78.) A Different Bed Every Time by Jac Jemc

79.) Fat Man and Little Boy by Mike Meginnis

80.) Ugly Girls by Lindsay Hunter

81.) Kill Manual by Cassandra Troyan

Some brief notes on these readings:

--I smiled when I typed this out and wrote the names Ben Tanzer, Megan Stielstra, and Leesa-Cross Smith. Back in July, I had the amazing honor of reading with these amazing people (including Paul Luikart and Steve Karas) in support of Leesa's debut story collection (the aforementioned Every Kiss a War). Frankly, I need to get more confident about reading my work in public. I'm really new to that part of the game, and I'm still honored that I was invited to share the stage with these lovely, talented people. I'll never forget that evening.

--I can't pick a favorite book, but one that stuck with me a lot was Binary Star, which is being published this month. Sarah Gerard writes with amazing details, forms, and emotions, and I was fascinated, repelled, and captivated by the relationship in her book. Read it when you get a chance. Yes, you.

--As I write my own novel, I'm constantly struggling with spacing, details, and how the narrative voice should take shape. I'm grateful for Jim Ruland's Forest of Fortune and Lindsay Hunter's Ugly Girls. These novels have very distinct narrative voices, and the pacing and layouts gave me ideas on how to go about my own story. This project is a challenge, but I'm happy that I can read books with an eye for narrative. For this, I also thank my professor Kyle Beachy and his "Finding Voices" workshop this fall.

--A final shout-out to Megan Stielstra. Once I Was Cool was such a wonderful collection, and I almost cried on the train when I read the essay "This is Scary and Here I Go:"

It was in that quad, on my way to my very first class, that the panic kicked in: What am I doing here? How did I get here? Am I a total fraud?

I've grown so much as a writer over these last couple years, yet, when I'm struggling with a piece of writing, or I get another form rejection letter, I sometimes wonder if I'm a fraud and will have the rug pulled out from under me. But I realize that some of my favorite writers struggle with this all the time. When I finished this book, I tweeted that it made me feel less alone. And for this, I'll always be grateful for having read it. Thank you, Megan. I needed that.

Have a productive 2015, everyone. Thank you to the writers on this long list. I'm glad I spent time with you.

Longform Changes

Today is the last day of Longform Fiction. Back in 2011, during a stint of unemployment, my former professor/current friend-confidante Jeremy P. Bushnell asked me to join him in a new venture. He launched a small website/social media feed called Instafiction, modeled after Longform and Longreads, but devoted to fiction, since there didn't appear to be a site of that nature.

Our following was small, but received attention from Max Linsky and Aaron Lammer, the founders of Longform, and after some talks, Jeremy and I agreed to be the first fiction editors for their site. It's been two years, and we felt it was time to step away. Jeremy had his first novel published earlier this year, and he's in the process of working on a new book. I'm officially starting my thesis hours (!) in the spring semester, which is a fancy, technical way of saying: I'm writing a novel as well. The time devoted to curating daily fiction is too much to handle, since I'll need to devote as much free time as possible to writing and editing, in addition to my class and graduate assistant requirements. Even though Longform Fiction is going away, I didn't want to leave Longform entirely.

Therefore, starting in January, I'm starting a new role as a contributing editor to the site. My focus will be the same, but not as time-consuming. I'll still have to do lots of reading, but I do that anyway; as someone in the literary community, I feel it's my obligation to read, support, and engage with other artists, regardless of whether it's for a website or for my own learning.

I'm grateful that Max and Aaron are excited to keep me on. And at the risk of sounding sappy, I simply cannot thank Jeremy enough. He's been one of the biggest influences in my growth as a writer and reader. He read my embarrassing, awful first attempts at fiction when I was 18, has always been ready with a quick text message of support if I'm ever down about something, and I hope he and I can work together in the future on a similar project. So thanks, Jeremy. For everything.

The countless hours I've spent reading for Instafiction and Longform have put me in touch with some amazing artists and journals, many of whom I'm honored to call friends, even if we only know each other through social media. Every part of these projects has been essential in my growth as a writer and a reader, and I wouldn't be in an MFA program if this engagement with great, contemporary artists hadn't happened.

Here's to a great 2015 for everyone. I can't wait to see new work appear in the world. Onward.

A Lost Paradise: John Cheever

Oh What a Paradise It Seems, a novella that proved to be John Cheever's final published work of fiction, is admittedly a strange starting point, especially when placed next to his much more esteemed bibliographic selections. Perhaps I should be embarrassed that it has taken me this long to get around to him, or perhaps I would have been better off beginning with The Stories of John Cheever, which I've owned for a few months. As for novels, Falconer is his most acclaimed work. I was at a community yard sale last month, and the final house had by far the best collection of 'for sale' books: Cheever, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and a giant anthology of Japanese stories. I began reading Oh What a Paradise It Seems on a whim, but then I realized that beginning with a "lesser" work might be better in the long run. A natural inclination is to begin an introduction to a given writer with the most highly praised pieces, but what's the harm in beginning from the edges? If his other works do prove to be much better, then they may be that much more satisfying.

Oh What a Paradise It Seems is nothing if not ambitious, even for such a slim volume. It opens with Lemuel Sears, an older New York man taking a trip to the small mill town of Janice (named after the original mill owner's wife) to skate on Beasley's Pond. His daughter lives in the town, and Cheever sketches the surrounding areas with a mix of old-time nostalgia and then-contemporary observations (the town has no fast food restaurants due to a corporate computer glitch). Afterward, a vast assortment of subplots come into play: Beasley's Pond becomes an environmental dumping ground; Lemuel begins a torrid affair with a younger woman, a relationship highlighted by confusion, elusiveness, and a lead-in to a homosexual fling; and two of the families in Janice begin a feud that culminates into public showdowns. Major events are also presented, almost as asides: the murder of a dog, the accidental abandonment of a child, the murder of an environmental scientist, and acts of local terrorism. These are all blended into an otherwise standard narrative, which, given the plot points recapped above, may seem impossible, especially since the novella runs for only one hundred pages.

In addition to the numerous happenings, Cheever manages to expand upon various ideas, to the point of going off into wild tangents. None of them are exactly distracting, nor do they take away from the regular narrative; then again, with a close reading, a reader has to wonder where exactly Cheever intended to go with the narrator's hypotheses. The passage below is a good example. The book is rife with potentially biblical references, yet more often than not veer just slightly into other ideas.

"At the north end of the town was Beasley's Pond--a deep body of water, shaped like a bent arm, with heavily forested shores. Here were water and greenery, and if one were a nineteenth-century painter one would put into the foreground a lovely woman on a mule, bent a little over the child she held and accompanied by a man with a staff. This would enable the artist to label the painting 'Flight into Egypt,' although all he had meant to commemorate was his bewildering pleasure in a fine landscape on a summer's day (Cheever 4-5)."

There is undeniable beauty in the passages. The beauty of rural life is depicted with the sameness of urban life, and while this may seem like an obvious literary trope, Cheever handles it with careful phrases, and ultimately, both settings end up being equally critiqued and praised.

"The offices where she worked struck him as being characterized by a kind of netherness. They were on the nether floor of a nether building in a nether neighborhood, and when he entered the place he saw nothing that was not distinguished by its portability. The reception room decorated with a vast urn, filled with artificial grasses and weeds, the receptionist's desk, the receptionist herself all seemed highly mobile as if they could be moved, at short notice, to another building, another state or even another country (Cheever 13)."



With even the most basic knowledge of John Cheever's background, it's easy to see Lemuel Sears as an autobiographical reflection, and it's almost impossible not to be moved. In the years since Cheever's death, biographies and published letters have shown him to be conflicted by feelings of inadequacy, especially in his sexual makeup as a closeted bisexual. I have a tendency to mention this too often, but a rule of thumb is to never confuse the author with the text. However, given that Oh What a Paradise It Seems was composed near the end of Cheever's life, the text has potential insights into his state of mind, whether he expected it to be apparent or not. The textual sketches of homosexuality are outdated (the work was published in 1982), but seem consistent in attempts to explain it.

"Just following her to a table in a restaurant inaugurated an erotic competition that would leave the waiters, and any other players, obliged to dismiss Sears as an old man who, with his clothes off, would present nothing interesting but a costly wristwatch (Cheever 42)."

"'Your male lover is a traditional invention of the neurotic,' said Dr. Palmer. 'You have invented some ghostly surrogate of a lost school friend or a male relation from your early youth (Cheever 60).'"

Even with sometimes outdated reflections, Cheever does manage to create some very timely sketches, especially later in the novella. A hearing is set for the state of Beasley's Pond, and an argument erupts between the town's mayor and Chisholm, the environmental scientist. It's a strong balance of ideas, and mirrors today's political battle between environmental woes and a conservative political landscape. In one extended diatribe from the town's mayor, an entire cycle of American problems comes to light, and it's very tempting to visualize the mayor as a composite of today's GOP candidates. Perhaps I'm going out on a limb, literary-criticism wise, but the passage should back up this claim.

"'I haven't finished,' said the mayor. 'I've described this meeting as a courtesy, and I've encountered nothing but troublemakers. You, Mr. Chisholm, have, I happen to know, never served in the armed forces of your great country and you have no understanding, of course, of our wish to raise a memorial to our patriotic dead. You would like, I know, to prove that our fill in Beasley's Pond is comprised of leachates and contaminants. My father was an honest Yankee fisherman. He was a soldier. He was a patriot. He was a churchgoer. He was the husband of seven healthy and successful children. If I spoke to him about leachates and contaminants, he would tell me to speak English. 'This is the United States of America, my son,' he would say, 'and I want you to speak English.''Leachates' and 'contaminants' sound like a foreign language, and to bring governmental interference into our improvements of Beasley's Pond is like the work of a foreign government (Cheever 90).'"

I haven't touched upon the entirety of the plot, as I mentioned in the opening summary. None of the themes are loose ends; everything ties together, even if the ties are somewhat forced or rushed. Again, for all of this to be packed into a novella is a strong feat, but there are some limitations. Cheever keeps the scope of the work open to a diverse list of potential meanings, and even though there's value in the problems of the characters, there's a nagging sense of a writer, even one as prolific as Cheever, trying to do too much with limited space. It's easy to make assumptions, much like I did with the linking of possibly autobiographical themes. However, was this the work of someone who knew he was dying? Was it an attempt to create a small capsule of contemporary life? There is much to consider in the pages, but for me, satisfaction came from analyzing the themes individually, rather than as interlocking parts. Cheever's Wikipedia page states that the first reviewers praised the work with the understanding that Cheever was dying. With this in mind, the praise is warranted, not in a patronizing manner, but for the attempt to explore numerous sociological and psychological elements in a limited space. I'm going to return to his earlier works in the near future, and it should be fascinating to see the differences between the writer as a young man and the writer as someone making a final statement.

Work Cited:
Cheever, John. Oh What a Paradise It Seems. Copyright 1982 by John Cheever.