★★☆☆☆½
Kudos to author for branding this work with one of the most offensive titles that I’ve ever come across. How could that not pique my curiosity? And kudos for that opening gut-punch, which left me seeing red, and filled me with a white-hot, seething rage. But all too soon that rage began to fizzle and flicker, when the story veered off course by choosing to hitch its wagon to the crazy train. Which led to the inevitable disaster of a third act, where it completely derailed; obliterating all of my initial enthusiasm. In the wake of the crash and confusion that followed, it totally lost me, along with a couple of stars.
With solid writing and a powerful opening act, this novelette appeared to be heading, quite comfortably, into my Goldilocks zone. But sadly, it failed to maintained that initial trajectory. Oh, what could have been.
“The only light burning was in their upstairs bedroom, while outside a quiet street shrouded with elms sighed, surrounded by so many similar houses bearing so many similar mundane lives. He’d been searching for a way out of it, to find something more, but he didn’t tell anyone because to search for any kind of meaning seemed unmanly, un-American. And he hated thinking he had to hide it from his wife because they used to share everything; they used to be best friends.
That broke his heart most of all and he had no idea how to get back to the way things once were.”
Be careful what you wish for, buddy.