Title: Tales of the Jazz Age
Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald
Publisher: Penguin Classic
Genre: Fiction, Literature, Short Stories
Length: 227 pages
I’m not a short story girl, but I love Fitzgerald, and there are short story writers in the world with whom I’ve been known to fall in love. ZZ Packer is one of those writers; how can you go wrong with a woman willing to title her collection Drinking Coffee Elsewhere? A fellow blogger has a review posted here: http://jimbreslin.com/2011/06/29/brownies-a-review/. So despite my general distaste for short stories at large, Fitzgerald has won me over again with lines like: “[…] I won’t kiss you. It might get to be a habit and I can’t get rid of habits.”
In general, I usually find the short story too short and too long at the same time. Too short, because I want a full length saga, I love knowing every blessed thing about a character before I part with them. Too long, because I know they will end soon so, without fail, I anticipate the ending with agony long before the story has even truly begun. I don’t have this problem as much with Fitzgerald, mainly because I am completely engrossed with his writing and don’t get the chance to lament over the length of his tale.
So many people get bored with Fitzgerald, and I will never fully understand why. The best one lined quotes come from dear old F.Scott, the kind of quotes that remind you of people you used to know and how they were at their core, quotes that draw out moments long forgotten from the recesses of your memories. I fell in love with Fitzgerald in high school when it was all about the beauty of symbolism and the art of writing a literary masterpiece, now I cherish his writing for the beauty of the story and the art of showing off the true colors of humanity.
I had a hard time picking a favorite out of this short story collection, but put a gun to my head and make me choose and I think I liked Head and Shoulders best. Benjamin Button is a brilliant story, but I liked the writing of Head and Shoulders better.
Not limited to Fitzgerald, what’s your favorite short story?
Permalink
2 Comments
Title: The Brownie and the Princess and Other Stories
Author: Louisa May Alcott
A HarperCollins Publication
Genre: Children’s fiction
Length: 250 pages
As everyone knows, Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women in the 1800’s and became one of the most well-known and timeless children’s literature authors of all time. The story of the March sisters is one that all little girls discover eventually, even if it isn’t until adulthood with the many movie productions (the most recent in 1994 featuring Winona Ryder, Claire Danes, and many other well-known stars). What a lot of people don’t know is that, just like Jo March, Alcott had many stories published in children’s magazines. The Brownie and the Princess and Other Stories is a collection of those stories.
One of the most delightful things about being a new mom is seeking out children’s books that I either remember loving or discovered later and wish I had owned. This particular collection was published while I was in college, so I missed the joy of reading it as a small child, but am extremely excited about having it available for my daughter.
The story of the Brownie and the Princess teaches good manners and being happy with what you have. Tabby’s Tablecloth is about patriotism and respecting antiques and the sentiments attached to them. The Hole in the Wall is beautifully innocent and romantic in a way. It’s lovely to go back to pleasant stories of gardens and happy moments strung together, skipping, playing, and the teaching of basic goodness, in the midst of a rough day of teething, tears, and tantrums. Books like these help gently aid the teaching of right from wrong.
Permalink
1 Comment
Working with books, my peers and I have a tendency to toss around terrible story ideas. We practically dare eachother to write something decent out of a bad idea.
June of 2008, the theme handed me was: Guy Gets Penny Stuck Up His Ass
Of course, when hard pressed for ideas, the terribly easy way out is to write smut. Smut is always easy, look at Harlequin. So here’s my Penny Ass story:
Aleks Stade was doing some of the best work of his life. The girl under him moaned loudly and he hoped her roommates would hear on the other side of the bathroom that connected the whole apartment. He took pride in the rumors spread about him and his skill in the sack. Stacey or Lacey, whatever her name, was two inches away from pulling the both of them off her twin bed and her head board shook uncontrollably. Down went the lamp, lights out.
Now, Sta-Lacey kept a jar of money on this rattling headboard of her’s – not for tips like a hooker or anything – just change she dug out of her pockets at the end of the day. Aleks saw her make a deposit from her jean pockets earlier in the night when they came back from Austin’s party on Greek Row. It was that season and Sta-Lacey had been sucking on trash can punch all night. She wasn’t a shot taker, she also wasn’t grossly trashed, just good and drunk – a slow, sweet kind of drunk.
She’d led him back to her apartment a few blocks away with a fresh cup of punch in her hand, the red plastic kind from the dollar store, nursing it as she quietly made her way back to her home, pinky linked with his. She was a focused drunk. “What are you thinking so hard about?” he laughed. Usually this is when the uber drunk would say, “Fucking you silly!” Bimbos.
“One- foot – in – front – of – the – other,” she answered instead, “And the beer I’m gonna have tomorrow with my aspirin.”
They’d been at it now for an hour at least. The headboard started to hit the wall.
He heard something fall and felt a shattering rain of change hit his backside as he and Sta-Lacey hit the floor. She was laughing and Aleks was –
crying.
With a penny in his ass.
Did he keep going? Or stop? He didn’t know. What did a guy do with a penny stuck in his colon during sex?
“Oh Alan,” the girl moaned.
“Aleks, its Aleks,” he kept fucking her.
She laughed again, “Yeah but who am I?”
He wasn’t listening anymore, he was thinking about the copper inching further up his colon as he inched further up her.
“Its Kacee, asshole.” And she laughed again, apparently getting off on his ignorance.
“Right – ahhhhhhh.” Fuck it all hurt and he wanted to stop!
Awhile later she stopped and dosed off, still on her floor. He crawled to the bathroom as her breathing settled and turned his backside to the mirror. There was a nickle hanging on to dear life by his own sweat on the back of his right thigh. At this point in time he knew that there was obviously something (he imagined a quarter by the size of it) lodged up his ass, but he hadn’t thought much beyond that and the searing pain.
Shower… take a shower…
He eyed the extendable hose of the shower head, stepped in, and turned on the water – ICE!
He turned the knob wanting to do a little dance to warm up while the water did the same, but moving hurt too damn much. Finally, the water got warm enough and he pulled the shower head off its hook and reached behind him, aiming at his ass crack. He hoped this would, you know, loosen everything up a bit. Instead, the water burned his cheeks and sprayed the object further inside his body.
He screamed a stream of curses, dropped the shower head and nearly fell on his very tender derrier. Aleks searched the shower frantically for a solution, trying to think more critically.
Hot pink loofa?
No.
Chick razor with soap attached?
No.
Neon yellow toothebrush?
What the hell did she have a toothebrush in the shower for?
Lavendar salty-things?
Nope.
He dumped the flowery shampoo on the floor of the tub as he fondled everything in search of salvation from his butt invader.
Body wash! Pomegranite body wash? Don’t be picky dumb ass.
He lathered up and prayed it would help.
So what happens next? Let’s write it together. The more outlandish and extreme, the more fun. Think Caprice Crane.
Permalink
1 Comment
Anakalian Whims 