August 19th, 2019 - Elliot Spencer

Dear TNY,

So I was glad to have last week off and I found out that this weeks’ story, “Elliot Spencer”, was by an author I consistently recommend as an example of how your magazine doesn’t have to keep fucking up.  So the setup was nice.

I know I say my policy is to not talk about the author.  I try hard in that regard.  But this is fucking Saunders.  And this story feels like him.  It’s got that creativity.  That adherence to the rules of the universe that he’s created.  And the bucking of that system.

But it’s…eh.  I didn’t take many notes.  And I felt it, the welling up, when Elliot had his epiphany near the end and he was talking about trying to lead a magnificent life for his mom because he was just a shitty drunk and never did anything.  That shit got to me.  Gets to me now.  But, sentimental much?  Imagine if this story did not have this crazy premise and there was just a wino at this age trying to be better for his dead mother.  It’s sentimental.  Of course it is going to elicit emotions from the reader.  Especially this reader, TNY, because I’m obviously on that downward slope into the chasm of chemical dependence and I wish I could talk to my dead father and tell him that I’m doing my goddamn best.  But he’d give me a hug and tell me he was so fucking proud of me and that I was better than he ever was. 

That, my personal experience, is what you are preying on.  And it was so close to being disguised.  But it was just a hair shy of it.  This is one of those stories that is so close to being amazing.  But the distance, that final 3%, is so fucking hard to figure out.  And that distance keeps this reader from a perfect fit.  I did not cry.  I just remembered how good “Tenth of December” was and wished this was that.

But, to be fair, this was infinity better than your general trash, TNY.  So that was nice.  Thanks.

Nick