"She thought it might be someone who had good diction, unlike herself..."
This whole paragraph is a wonderful layering of subtext, perfectly placed in the story. That with the framing device of the onion-cutting, the impingement of the dialogue, the whimsy of Myra's own thoughts against the incredibly tense scene-setting going on around her... This was really good, man. I had a great time reading this.
Wonderful writing; thank you. Following on Lyle’s comment, this is a striking moment: “She didn't know what to feel because nobody told her how to act, even her father, who, she thought, was supposed to do that by his profession but consistently failed at it.”
Quite lovely. The sensory details and the strong imagery, coupled with the well-placed backstory, work beautifully. The narrator’s voice was compelling. I liked the metaphor of the knife with the possibility of cutting oneself juxtaposed with the edge, the possibility of death.
"She thought it might be someone who had good diction, unlike herself..."
This whole paragraph is a wonderful layering of subtext, perfectly placed in the story. That with the framing device of the onion-cutting, the impingement of the dialogue, the whimsy of Myra's own thoughts against the incredibly tense scene-setting going on around her... This was really good, man. I had a great time reading this.
Wonderful writing; thank you. Following on Lyle’s comment, this is a striking moment: “She didn't know what to feel because nobody told her how to act, even her father, who, she thought, was supposed to do that by his profession but consistently failed at it.”
Engaging writing... excited for more.
"Myra couldn't help but feel a pang of confusion, wondering how soon she would learn how to feel happy about someone’s death."
Is a real mindfuck, isn't it, living through history?
Quite lovely. The sensory details and the strong imagery, coupled with the well-placed backstory, work beautifully. The narrator’s voice was compelling. I liked the metaphor of the knife with the possibility of cutting oneself juxtaposed with the edge, the possibility of death.
Michael Mohr
‘Sincere American Writing’
https://michaelmohr.substack.com/