July 15, 2007

New Yorker Fiction

'If I Vanished', a nice piece of fiction in the New Yorker. It grapples quietly with the nature of how a relationship implodes, and the forces that seemingly have no impact except in retrospect.

It uses as a backdrop a crappy Kevin Costner western (I know, I know, that's an oxymoron), but its lack of importance is sort of the point: You'll go looking for answers in the stupidest places if you're desperate enough. It's an old premise nicely tweaked.

At a certain age, you enter preservation mode. You can only send up so many balls of fire before the inferno singes you raw. I love this line from the piece. "Sometimes one stops listening to a beloved masterpiece in order to continue to love it."


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