It's freaking August already! Of 2021. Life I know how summer usually means a busy time for most people. It wasn't so much for me - my kids are still too little and we had some fun this summer but didn't brave outside a whole lot (maybe next year). And still, I am ready for summer to end. For one thing, stuff does slow down a little during rest of the year, and by stuff, I mean work mostly. And on the other hand, I'm ready for real school to start, so that I don't feel bad that my kids are wasting their brains, LOL. I got to catchup with life this week and that means a great deal. There were a million things eating my brain all the time, distracting me from other things, so it was good to check off a bunch of things from my list. There's still more but for now, I'm in a good place (until it creeps up again of course). This and next week, we are going to be busy with back-to-school stuff. Since my daughter is moving to the public school this year (first gr
I woke up today, excited about the short hour before my usual Saturday morning workout. I usually use that time to read a short story, whichever caught my fancy. Sometimes, I usually had a story decided in advance, but today I didn't really know which to read except that I planned to hound The New Yorker for a good one. (On a side note, The New Yorker is fast becoming my favorite literary stop, and I've been playing with the idea of buying a subscription.) I eventually decided to read The Shawl by Louise Erdrich, an author I haven't read yet, but who comes highly recommended. After reading this story, I'll have to join that bandwagon.
The narrator of The Shawl, whose real connection to the dead girl is revealed only at the end, then proceeds to explain the chaos in his home - how he and his twin siblings live in terror of their drunkard father, over time learning to avoid the father whenever he comes home in one of his rages.
Set in the Anishinaabeg community, the story also echoed the ailing strains of the Indian American community - alcoholism eating it up, suicide becoming all too common, and how the old sort of people - "who are kind beyond kindness and would do anything for others", were fast disappearing. So far as the problems go, they reminded me of what I read in Sherman Alexie's The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian, and how alcoholism and abuse were the story of their lives, and children often sat together "to compare our points of view".
The Shawl was a super-quick read - I finished it in 20 minutes, but at the end of the story, I felt as if I read a powerful long novel. I think of the stories I read so far this year, this is the one I liked the best - it was sad for sure. When the death of the sister was first mentioned, it came as a bitter shock. I think if everyone in that wagon (the mother, the baby, the girl and an uncle) had been attacked, it wouldn't have been too much of a kick-in-the-gut as when just that girl died, since the idea of a mother tossing the girl to the hungry animals was the more painful thought. I wondered how anyone got closure from something like that. But, for a story with such a heavy element, it is the ending that lets the reader move on. I won't say you what that is, but it makes reading the story so much more worthwhile.
I hope you chose to read this story - it just takes 20 minutes of your time, and it is a beautiful one. If you haven't read Erdrich yet, this will be a good introduction to her work. I'm looking forward to checking out her novels now. The Byliner has more stories by Erdrich listed, if you're interested.
I read this book online on the NewYorker. Go ahead and read it.
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