I'm going to stay with the Dec. 21 & 28 New Yorker for the moment and talk about Tim Parks' concise short story called "Bedtimes," which I like for two reasons: first it is essentially a story of manners -- that once popular genre that few writers seem to view as a suitable subject for contemporary fiction.
Novels of manners -- Jane Austin, of course, immediately comes to mind -- concern how people behave toward each other in conventional social situations, or, to put it another way, in ordinary life.
Second, I like this story because it is written in prose so straight forward it reads like an ever-so trendy graphic novel. All that is missing is the pictures, but the nature of the story is such that one can easily imagine them.
"There is a willful simplicity and a mechanical, monosyllabic repetition
to the prose. Almost as if it were written for children, in places, as
if everything were terribly simple and clear, when in reality none of
the important or complicated things are being said," Parks explained in an author interview.
What important or complicated things? A marriage has stagnated, but perhaps not terminally, and neither spouse wants to take the issue on. Among other things, there are children in the picture.
To say more would give it away. It's only two pages. Read it and see what resonates.
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