On Sunday, Jan. 22, the next Fictlicious show will take place at the Hideout. While I’m not quite ready to announce the lineup, I definitely recommend marking your calendars, as the theme of the show is going to be “Protest.” The fact that it takes place two days after the inauguration is not an accident, so mark your calendars and show up to burn off some righteous indignation with some talented writers and musicians.
Back to the BASS…
The Great Silence – Ted Chiang
This is, to my recollection, the first piece of flash fiction that I’ve seen in the BASS anthology, which is exciting to me, though I’m not sure it’s one I would have picked for the honor. That’s not to say I didn’t like the story, because I did, but it didn’t really feel like a story to me. Nor is it the best story I’ve ever read with a parrot narrator.
It’s more a rumination, a stylistic choice I see a lot of new writers take in their stories. Navel gazing is the popular term for it. The content is interesting and the author has something to say, but there’s no narrative behind it. It’s just the philosophical musings of the author hidden behind a thin veneer they think of as “fiction.” It’s a technique that rarely works. This is one of my pet peeves about flash fiction. Too much of it that I read is more accurately described as a prose poem or it feels half-formed, like a story fragment.
This piece is the rare exception of a non-story piece of flash fiction that worked for me. In fact, it’s a piece that I would kill to have written for Fictlicious. Part of it is the fact that, in the liner notes, Chiang mentions that it was written as part of a multimedia installment, which makes sense. Writing a story to be read aloud or digested in a manner other than the traditional words on a page requires a different approach. I thought this was a great read, it’s just not one I would have picked amongst the 20 best short stories of 2016.
The Flower – Louise Erdrich
Now here’s a story that has some plot, some brilliant character development, a unique and transporting setting and–a rarity in award-winning literary fiction–some action. It’s the story of a young man who sets off to make his fortune in 1839 at a trading post in the frozen frontier of the upper midwest. He is a clerk who is faced with the decision to hang on to his humanity and rescue an Ojibwe girl who has been sold into a life of abuse and servitude by her people.
It’s a story that feels like an instant classic, freely fiddling with the “damsel in distress” trope. The author displays tremendous skill in using the setting to augment the stark violence of the story. This one will probably make it into the rotation of stories I use for class.
The Letician Age – Yalitza Ferreras
Leticia is one of those characters who we readers instantly find ourselves rooting for. We learn about her family and her upbringing, her interests and dreams, the triumph and striving that compel her and we can’t help ourselves. But we also know that these characters do not make for riveting fiction unless they face conflict. Yalitza Ferreras is well aware of this concept, and uses it to break our hearts as this story goes on.
It’s one of the best in the collection, and perhaps one of the most difficult.
While I don’t want to give away the ending, there is a bit of artistic license taken with the plausibility of the situation, but the rich characterization and strong narrative arc make it work. As writers, sometimes we have to be merciless and cruel to our characters. Especially when we like them.
For the God of Love, for the Love of God – Lauren Groff
I had mixed feelings about this story. While I enjoyed it at the sentence and paragraph level, I’m not sure the whole of the story worked for me. If I can be indulged an analogy, it felt like a long, pleasant fall road trip where, upon reaching your destination, you say, ok, now what? There is nothing to do but turn back and head home.
I think part of it was that the characters didn’t change so much as they devolved, so that by the story ended with a shrug. The narrative focus shifts to a new character at the end who almost literally states the thematic takeaway, but I just wasn’t there with her.
The characters were unlikable in that Jonathon Franzen sort of way that I like–selfish, prone to poor decisions, but nuanced and empathetic–but I wasn’t able to get invested in them over the course of the narrative.
That said, this also feels like a story that would benefit from a second reading, and Lauren Groff is no slouch, so I might revisit this one next time.
We’re at the midway point, and coming to a good run of stories in the anthology….