Kiom

Shit man, don't be pained. Your stories are especially good, enjoyable, well-done, etc. For that reason, this one stood out. I am aware of how people talk to service people; I've kicked people out of my place for lack of respect for staff. And I get it, what you wanted to capture, but I thought you missed it there. Had the patron made the first move, well then maybe the bartender overstepping would have been believable. BY THE WAY, I wrote a review of Bellini a few weeks ago. I loved the piece (with one exception) and commented on how you craftily used the bartender as an author, in much the same way as a restaurateur uses him or her behind the bar. K

The following between two strangers, a bartender and the main character, doesn't work at all. Do people really talk like this to each other? I hope not. Do bartenders really ask personal questions about a patron's family? Do they refer to one's aunt as 'this chick'? Do they just out and out ask if she's a dyke? And what kind of a schlemiel answers such impertinent questions? And why did the schlemiel say 'sure' to the question 'is she moving into the neighborhood? 'Sure' is not the right word. It makes no sense. The bartender might have been curious about the aunt, but none of the writing leads up to an appropriate and believable approach to his question. Disappointed, I gave up reading further. “I’m helping my aunt move.” “She’s moving into the neighborhood?” “Sure.” After a moment passed. “Not too far from here.” “That’s far out. Is this chick cool? Where is her place? “Yeah, a couple of blocks down.” “Is she family?” the bartender asked, leveling the foam off the top of the mug with a knife. “She’s my aunt,” Elliott answered, and then he considered. What did he mean exactly? There appeared to be another internal inquiry within the man’s question. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.” “Is she a lesbian?” The bartender smirked, “A dyke?”

Hot Damn Mister, you can really write (and this is from one chef to another)! Your characters spring from the page (this observation is based not only on this story, but several others of yours that I've read). So how do you do it chef, do you add baking soda, or is it all in the technique? I'm posting this as a review as many of us here aspire to write, or think of ourselves as writers--poor creatures that we are, and we need to understand that "taking pen in hand" is not the same thing as being a writer, any more than putting some comestibles in a pot along with a few condiments makes anyone a chef. I chose this story to review, rather than others of yours, as it's the only one to which I heard an objection somewhere in the back of my mind. I loved the story, and the setup, and the characters. I also loved how you used the bartender as eye-candy, which in fact is often how a restaurant uses its bartenders, and that though the bartender has a very large role, his character recedes, if it surfaces at all, and makes way for the main players. The bit that doesn't seem to work is important, the more so, however, as it is tied to the title. After I turned out the lights instead of drifting off to sleep it nagged me that Danny, the son and possibly the most important character in the story, would not have left his daughter's fate to the backside of a photo. (As a dad I am sure of this). In a castle, perhaps, the treasure might have been sewn into the hem of an arras to keep it from the hands of a greedy uncle or a litigious ex, but nowadays there are iron-clad trusts and custodial accounts that will serve far better, though with less dramatic flair (boring!). Inasmuch as there are so many of us here who do not know the difference between edible substances tossed into a pot and being a chef, and given my love for the knack of speech and its corollary, the written word, considering the merits of my argument here offers an opportunity to examine what is too oft left in the dark, to wit, the structures that make a story successful. So thank you again for the good stories and best of luck on the book (though I may already be published by now). And thank you for putting up with my complaint and for allowing how it may help the rest of us to improve our skills. Best and Happy Holidays, Kiom

Ah, Mikiesboy, do you always muddle your opinions along with the brilliance of Eliot? And then do you add the ice next, or the bourbon? Today a friend wrote, "Being best is best, but good enough is better." It cracked me up. But my brother wanted to understand it. I had to leave him in the lurch, scratching his head, telling him that understanding it was exactly not the point. But bless him, he'll be back for more. And thanks to all for the expressions of appreciation for my comment.

It's hard to say anything, anything at all, but the things that can never be said, those to poetry may fall. If you could tell us what the poem is about, you would have done so, without the poem. The poem gingers around the ineffable, reaching for threads and wisps too frail for our sequential, cause & effect, on & off, up & down mental landscapes to grasp or hold on to. And that's a damn good reason not to write the stuff! Just too effin hard. .

I enjoyed the 3 chapters I read, but there were things that didn't work. I understand you needed him to fall off the boat and be abandoned there and be assumed dead. But there is no motive for not reporting it nor for the abandonment, and especially none for trying to say he had never gotten on the boat in the first place. Hardened criminals do that sort of thing, but he does not present as a guy who is running with hardened criminals. There is no plot development to support this sort of sociopathic behavior, so it's difficult to swallow. I once read that nothing in a story can be there without a purpose, as in, if a gun is on the table, then the gun somehow figures into the plot, etc. So what was all the fuss about Eric keeping a low profile? There were so many paragraphs of explanation about how he had arranged everything so the papparazzi or whatever didn't connect the dots in his life. Why? Who cares? How does it fit? What is that gun going to be used for? Did I need to read the next two chapters to understand this sidebar? If so, there was no device to lead me there. Meanwhile, juxtaposed to that tangent, is that the guy owns 1/3 of a Hawaiian island, and, to keep it all on the DL, has a small manse there on a modest 10 or so acres overlooking the Pacific. Really? Who owns 1/3 of a chunk of the world's most desirable real estate and gets to move about like an unknown hobo? Finally, I have to wonder what the story is about. If it is about a guy who falls off a boat and is assumed dead but gets found by Prince Charming and has to deal with being abandoned by his friends, it needs a lot more than his tears than a lawsuit that happens off-screen. If it's about how his near death experience ends in a realignment of his values and priorities, then going off to live in the Prince's chateau in Hawaii is insufficient as it's all external. It doesn't examine the epiphany that helps him turn his life around. So, though it was a nice fluffy story about a sweet and teary boy, I stopped reading. There wasn't enough stuffing for me. I hope you find these comments useful. And I am envious that you were somehow able to figure out how to post a story here; I am utterly unable to make sense of the instructions. I even sent messages to the owners/staff, but have never heard back. Best, Kiom