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Graham Greene
Episode of fiction podcast LeVar Burton Reads. A man is contacted by a 102-year-old woman with an unusual and seemingly impossible request. "Graham Greene" appears in Percival Everett's collection HALF AN INCH OF WATER, available from Graywolf Press.
1 pages, Audible Audio
First published January 1, 2015
85 people want to read
About the author
Percival Everett
72 books9,110 followersPercival L. Everett (born 1956) is an American writer and Distinguished Professor of English at the University of Southern California.
There might not be a more fertile mind in American fiction today than Everett’s. In 22 years, he has written 19 books, including a farcical Western, a savage satire of the publishing industry, a children’s story spoofing counting books, retellings of the Greek myths of Medea and Dionysus, and a philosophical tract narrated by a four-year-old.
The Washington Post has called Everett “one of the most adventurously experimental of modern American novelists.” And according to The Boston Globe, “He’s literature’s NASCAR champion, going flat out, narrowly avoiding one seemingly inevitable crash only to steer straight for the next.”
Everett, who teaches courses in creative writing, American studies and critical theory, says he writes about what interests him, which explains his prolific output and the range of subjects he has tackled. He also describes himself as a demanding teacher who learns from his students as much as they learn from him.
Everett’s writing has earned him the PEN USA 2006 Literary Award (for his 2005 novel, Wounded), the Academy Award for Literature of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the Hurston/Wright Legacy Award (for his 2001 novel, Erasure), the PEN/Oakland-Josephine Miles Award for Excellence in Literature (for his 1996 story collection, Big Picture) and the New American Writing Award (for his 1990 novel, Zulus). He has served as a judge for, among others, the 1997 National Book Award for fiction and the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction in 1991.
There might not be a more fertile mind in American fiction today than Everett’s. In 22 years, he has written 19 books, including a farcical Western, a savage satire of the publishing industry, a children’s story spoofing counting books, retellings of the Greek myths of Medea and Dionysus, and a philosophical tract narrated by a four-year-old.
The Washington Post has called Everett “one of the most adventurously experimental of modern American novelists.” And according to The Boston Globe, “He’s literature’s NASCAR champion, going flat out, narrowly avoiding one seemingly inevitable crash only to steer straight for the next.”
Everett, who teaches courses in creative writing, American studies and critical theory, says he writes about what interests him, which explains his prolific output and the range of subjects he has tackled. He also describes himself as a demanding teacher who learns from his students as much as they learn from him.
Everett’s writing has earned him the PEN USA 2006 Literary Award (for his 2005 novel, Wounded), the Academy Award for Literature of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the Hurston/Wright Legacy Award (for his 2001 novel, Erasure), the PEN/Oakland-Josephine Miles Award for Excellence in Literature (for his 1996 story collection, Big Picture) and the New American Writing Award (for his 1990 novel, Zulus). He has served as a judge for, among others, the 1997 National Book Award for fiction and the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction in 1991.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
October 15, 2024
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, or so we are told. Many journeys require no movement at all. How is a person to begin when all that is required of them remains stagnant? To heal that which is unseen & cure the flesh eater under our skin, a person must first speak truth into the situation that surrounds them. In the case of stories of fiction, shades & hues of discoloured honesty often accompany the protagonist’s journey, it is up to the reader to lend a hand in deciphering what lies beneath the tombstone of life; the revelation kept nestled within the folds of the dying mind, one that will never relinquish its hold on the very truth sought & evaded.
The narrator has a name but, I will not lie to you, I cannot remember what it is. One’s enjoyment of this story will not be hindered by their inability to grapple with the details, in fact, Everett reflects on the very intricate nature of a person’s desire to remember the portrait while intentionally forgetting the instrument that crafted the piece.
I find myself ironically linked to this story. When I first read it I wasn’t sure I had understood what the author was attempting to share. The plot follows a detective who visits an Elder on a Reserve in the United States; her dying wish is to see her son, one more time. Readers may believe the story to be straightforward. Certainly, what more is there to life than the knots of love that hold us together?
In essence, this is a story about tenderness. The main character wanders near & far across the town, interrogating numerous people after the whereabouts of the Elder’s son. The assumption of the reader is not entirely incorrect. This story is about the tender petal of love that exists between a mother & her child yet, readers will also note that this child has been absent for decades. The photograph that the Elder gives the Detective is torn about by the years. The narrator wonders who this man might be & why he has been absent for so long. Why has the Elder asked him of all people to galavant the tundra in search of a man whom no one has seen in a lifetime?
What I found interesting about this plot was that it was so simple. At face value, one may forget that the main driver of the plot is the Elder—a woman who is one hundred years old, older still, or a tad bit younger—she remains in place while the story journeys to & fro, with the reader’s mind attempting to understand what must be so important about a man.
Of course, one may accept that the child’s presence at the deathbed of their parent is normal; one would understand the need to say goodbye before departing forever. In some cultures, the physical departing is not synonymous with eternity. The Elder may well believe in her heart that the world as she knows it is but a chapter in her existence. Perhaps this is why she sends the narrator on an Odyssey.
Though the narrator asks around, he is never met with any helpful information. The entire community, ranging from people young & old, does not seem to know who the man in the photograph is let alone, be aware that the Elder even had a son. What was initially thought to be a quest of bravery in the pursuit of gentility, soon becomes a goose chase; otherwise known as a waste of time. Will readers believe the narrator was justified in presenting himself at the Elder’s home empty-handed?
After what feels like weeks, though it was certainly less time than an Odyssey in the traditional sense may warrant, the narrator comes to learn that the Elder’s son died many moons ago, at a rather young age. At this stage in the story, readers will be granted the opportunity to decipher the moral of the tale. The ruby red slipper of fate has come to the door, it will not knock, & shall not leave empty-handed.
Reflections will allow readers to understand the introduction as I have written it. Death is but a stone on the path in the great realm of existence. For the Elder, a quest across the town might have soothed her inside, confirming to her tired mind that her child was no more for the Earth & therefore, she was free to journey onward.
Whether the Elder remembered that her child had died was of little importance. The moment she spends with the Detective, as she tells him that she has missed him & is glad to be seeing him again soon, speaks more to the nature of transition than it does the shaded mind that fades away near death. The beauty in this exchange is that the Elder’s son was seen by every single person who looked at the photograph—a photo that was not the son but the actor, Graham Greene. Though the town could not place him, he was someone to each of them. Here we come to the core of the story.
Life might be very long if we are lucky enough to become acquainted with the moon. For others, the short stinted breeze of the wind carries them onward to greater pastures where their soul need not burden itself with walking across stony sandy laneways. Depending on the reader’s cultural ties, they may believe that the parting of the Elder was accompanied by prayer or that she was forever buried in the ground that gave her life; perhaps one might believe that her soul will come back around for a further jaunt down the nostalgic & familiar ways of the planet or, maybe where she goes now is a place uncommon to us because of its peace.
Ultimately, what I enjoyed about this story was its ability to weave growth into the flower that blooms under the shade of a tree. No garden is perfect with the right amount of rain & sunshine but, the revenant’s soul kisses softly to the petals & leaves that welcome them home, to a place much unlike the mulch lands that is our own home yet, identical to it in every way.
Everett has a wonderful way of writing that creates formidable girth & life to stale syllables, toying with the reader, asking them to dare to dream of a world where the end of the sentence is not to be dreaded, like the monster at the end of a book.
Readers who long for the calm slated tale of a Knight in dashing garments & a sleeping beauty may rest easy upon this classic tale of love & loss. The hero cannot set to right that which remains unknown to him in its entirety, yet he gallantly struts forward & holds the hand that will never wave again; once more before the two depart, will only meet in a land where a journey can mean anything the wandering heart desires.
If you would like to listen to this story, please visit this •LINK•
The narrator has a name but, I will not lie to you, I cannot remember what it is. One’s enjoyment of this story will not be hindered by their inability to grapple with the details, in fact, Everett reflects on the very intricate nature of a person’s desire to remember the portrait while intentionally forgetting the instrument that crafted the piece.
I find myself ironically linked to this story. When I first read it I wasn’t sure I had understood what the author was attempting to share. The plot follows a detective who visits an Elder on a Reserve in the United States; her dying wish is to see her son, one more time. Readers may believe the story to be straightforward. Certainly, what more is there to life than the knots of love that hold us together?
In essence, this is a story about tenderness. The main character wanders near & far across the town, interrogating numerous people after the whereabouts of the Elder’s son. The assumption of the reader is not entirely incorrect. This story is about the tender petal of love that exists between a mother & her child yet, readers will also note that this child has been absent for decades. The photograph that the Elder gives the Detective is torn about by the years. The narrator wonders who this man might be & why he has been absent for so long. Why has the Elder asked him of all people to galavant the tundra in search of a man whom no one has seen in a lifetime?
What I found interesting about this plot was that it was so simple. At face value, one may forget that the main driver of the plot is the Elder—a woman who is one hundred years old, older still, or a tad bit younger—she remains in place while the story journeys to & fro, with the reader’s mind attempting to understand what must be so important about a man.
Of course, one may accept that the child’s presence at the deathbed of their parent is normal; one would understand the need to say goodbye before departing forever. In some cultures, the physical departing is not synonymous with eternity. The Elder may well believe in her heart that the world as she knows it is but a chapter in her existence. Perhaps this is why she sends the narrator on an Odyssey.
Though the narrator asks around, he is never met with any helpful information. The entire community, ranging from people young & old, does not seem to know who the man in the photograph is let alone, be aware that the Elder even had a son. What was initially thought to be a quest of bravery in the pursuit of gentility, soon becomes a goose chase; otherwise known as a waste of time. Will readers believe the narrator was justified in presenting himself at the Elder’s home empty-handed?
After what feels like weeks, though it was certainly less time than an Odyssey in the traditional sense may warrant, the narrator comes to learn that the Elder’s son died many moons ago, at a rather young age. At this stage in the story, readers will be granted the opportunity to decipher the moral of the tale. The ruby red slipper of fate has come to the door, it will not knock, & shall not leave empty-handed.
Reflections will allow readers to understand the introduction as I have written it. Death is but a stone on the path in the great realm of existence. For the Elder, a quest across the town might have soothed her inside, confirming to her tired mind that her child was no more for the Earth & therefore, she was free to journey onward.
Whether the Elder remembered that her child had died was of little importance. The moment she spends with the Detective, as she tells him that she has missed him & is glad to be seeing him again soon, speaks more to the nature of transition than it does the shaded mind that fades away near death. The beauty in this exchange is that the Elder’s son was seen by every single person who looked at the photograph—a photo that was not the son but the actor, Graham Greene. Though the town could not place him, he was someone to each of them. Here we come to the core of the story.
Life might be very long if we are lucky enough to become acquainted with the moon. For others, the short stinted breeze of the wind carries them onward to greater pastures where their soul need not burden itself with walking across stony sandy laneways. Depending on the reader’s cultural ties, they may believe that the parting of the Elder was accompanied by prayer or that she was forever buried in the ground that gave her life; perhaps one might believe that her soul will come back around for a further jaunt down the nostalgic & familiar ways of the planet or, maybe where she goes now is a place uncommon to us because of its peace.
Ultimately, what I enjoyed about this story was its ability to weave growth into the flower that blooms under the shade of a tree. No garden is perfect with the right amount of rain & sunshine but, the revenant’s soul kisses softly to the petals & leaves that welcome them home, to a place much unlike the mulch lands that is our own home yet, identical to it in every way.
Everett has a wonderful way of writing that creates formidable girth & life to stale syllables, toying with the reader, asking them to dare to dream of a world where the end of the sentence is not to be dreaded, like the monster at the end of a book.
Readers who long for the calm slated tale of a Knight in dashing garments & a sleeping beauty may rest easy upon this classic tale of love & loss. The hero cannot set to right that which remains unknown to him in its entirety, yet he gallantly struts forward & holds the hand that will never wave again; once more before the two depart, will only meet in a land where a journey can mean anything the wandering heart desires.
If you would like to listen to this story, please visit this •LINK•
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 31, 2024
I loved this story! A stunning tale of seeing what you want to believe, in a good way.
May 29, 2023
Very enjoyable narration by LeVar Burton. I really like this type of story where the plot or mystery doesn’t have to be resolved in some giant revelation or saving the world situation. Five out of five!! Would listen again.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 13, 2025
What a treat this was, especially listening to it being read by LeVar Burton. Burton‘s discussion of Everett’s short story after the narration – which was beautifully done and slightly dramatic with sound effects and background music, but subtle enough to add to the story without overpowering the narration– really enhanced the impact of the story. I really appreciated Burton‘s comment about the ride that Everett takes the reader or audience on, the notion that it is a relationship between the audience and the author that really lends to the impact of the story: the authors’ bet on the audience’s biases and own assumptions that add to, and honestly create, the surprise and twist that is inevitable with Everett.
The short story was just beautiful. A meandering hunt to fulfill a dying woman’s last wish that seemed like it would not be fruitful, but in the end, the fruitlessness of it all was truly what was needed for both parties.
The short story was just beautiful. A meandering hunt to fulfill a dying woman’s last wish that seemed like it would not be fruitful, but in the end, the fruitlessness of it all was truly what was needed for both parties.
July 21, 2024
Straying from the previous reads of sci-fi/fantasy, LeVar bring us into a bit of a mystery maybe? Definitely a thinking piece… with some food for thought in the aftermath of the final reveal.
I enjoyed the journey.
I enjoyed the journey.
March 8, 2024
He did bring her what she needed. A lovely story.
April 18, 2024
The quest to find a dying woman's son. I wasn't quite sure where this story was going, and I enjoyed the twist.
November 4, 2024
Very good.
December 28, 2025
Well written and constructed narrative with layers of meaning and interpretation.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews