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Quiet Men
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
January 5, 2025
OMG!
I LOVED Jamison’s prose in this. THe language was so beautiful and striking and the dialogue moved at such an effective clip too???
I’ve read Jamison’s nonfiction before but this was my first time reading her fiction writing. (Knowing her nonfiction works actually made reading this piece a bit awkward because it was so clearly autofiction lol.)
Only a really good writer has a breakup then goes on a month-long bender of ill-fated dates and hookups then turns the whole thing into a truly moving story.
The last paragraph of this was beautiful:
We sat like grade-schoolers, barely touching. Neither one of us spoke. I pointed out the couple and we watched them change their baby's diaper against the fallen lights of the city. I felt the summer break into things I could hold in one palm: a bent cigarette and a steaming sweet-corn pie, my own tombstone carved in fog-chilled chocolate. A note saying: Slut. A note saying: So? There were ash-speckled jackets all over those days, and Coke bottles collecting rain. I had a glass and it broke. I crushed a moth and it died. I had a month, but it ended. I had a heart. It remained.
I LOVED Jamison’s prose in this. THe language was so beautiful and striking and the dialogue moved at such an effective clip too???
I’ve read Jamison’s nonfiction before but this was my first time reading her fiction writing. (Knowing her nonfiction works actually made reading this piece a bit awkward because it was so clearly autofiction lol.)
Only a really good writer has a breakup then goes on a month-long bender of ill-fated dates and hookups then turns the whole thing into a truly moving story.
The last paragraph of this was beautiful:
We sat like grade-schoolers, barely touching. Neither one of us spoke. I pointed out the couple and we watched them change their baby's diaper against the fallen lights of the city. I felt the summer break into things I could hold in one palm: a bent cigarette and a steaming sweet-corn pie, my own tombstone carved in fog-chilled chocolate. A note saying: Slut. A note saying: So? There were ash-speckled jackets all over those days, and Coke bottles collecting rain. I had a glass and it broke. I crushed a moth and it died. I had a month, but it ended. I had a heart. It remained.
September 17, 2025
I didn’t realize that A Public Space had brought out this story as an individual ebook — how wonderful to learn! I first read it in Best New American Voices 2008, a series that presumably died soon after but which also featured my pal Suzanne Rivecca and was the first place I’d seen Lauren Groff’s name. But I digress.
That was, let’s see, 17 years ago? Lots of things from the intervening 17 years have not stayed with me, but I tell you I think of this story still, with regularity; its last lines, especially. Just an exquisitely poignant story, and my introduction to Leslie and her work which has continued to mean a great deal to me.
I have no idea where this ebook is sold. I suppose I should’ve looked that up! Oops. Well. You have Google, too, I don’t know why I act as though you don’t.
That was, let’s see, 17 years ago? Lots of things from the intervening 17 years have not stayed with me, but I tell you I think of this story still, with regularity; its last lines, especially. Just an exquisitely poignant story, and my introduction to Leslie and her work which has continued to mean a great deal to me.
I have no idea where this ebook is sold. I suppose I should’ve looked that up! Oops. Well. You have Google, too, I don’t know why I act as though you don’t.
December 9, 2022
another random literary fiction short story, courtesy of the new york public library app. 2.5, rounded up.
"I had a month, but it ended. I had a heart. It remained."
"I had a month, but it ended. I had a heart. It remained."
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews