Welcome to November, Story366!
Yesterday, I outlined our trick-or-treat plans for Halloween, for which safety was our main priority. I think we ended up following most of our guidelines, to the best of our ability, as some things were out of our control. We tried to stay distant, as did other families, but others just weren’t all that concerned and the sidewalks are only so wide. Otherwise, though, our plan worked out, including the putting-aside of the candy haul for a few days, letting any possible ‘rona die out. A huge bag of candy we bought ahead of time made that possible, as the boys had their fill, their actual trick-or-treat booty lying in wait. So, a two-for-one for them, when it comes down to it.
Kudos to whomever came up with the chute idea. The first time we saw it was at the first house we came across, and I thought to myself That’s genius! But then we saw these chutes—long cardboard tubes where a person drops a piece of candy into our son’s jack-o’-lantern without coming near him—everywhere. Apparently, there was some kind of notice out, as I doubt the residents of my neighborhood were the only ones to think of it. Still, more than half the houses sported these chutes, while the other houses had candy spread out on tables or in bowls (or cauldrons) on their walks. That doesn’t mean they didn’t virus it up before they put it out, but we appreciate the effort.
This was also the first year that my youngest was all in. Admittedly, that might be because it was really warm, added on to his extra year. Halloweens past, he was done after a half an hour, wanting to go home and just dive in. I tracked my route last night and we walked about three miles, hitting every in-business house along the way. He got enough for me to empty his take into a pillowcase because it was too full. That’s what I call trick-or-treating. I’m proud of him. And now I don’t have to shop for groceries for a few days, right?
For today’s entry, I read Iris N. Schwartz‘s new collection, Shame and Other Stories, out in 2019 from Poets Wear Prada. I’ve read a couple of Schwartz’s flash stories before and am, as always, glad to have the whole book—just over fifty pages—in my hands. So, let’s talk some Shame.
The opening story is “At Liberty” and is about Belle, a woman with a ham-fisted and ham-mouthed ex-husband, a guy who just couldn’t kiss, let alone say the right thing. Newly single, Belle buries her wedding dress in a garbage can in the basement of her new complex, only to find she’s not the only recently divorced woman in her building, with magical results.
“Ever After” is up next and is a slightly longer story—maybe not even a flash!—and is about Paula, who marries a master chef, only to see herself gain a lot of weight, feasting on his delectable meals. The husband gains, too, and as a result, becomes kind of an oafish brute in the bedroom, his sweet caresses turning into rough manhandling and bruises. Paula dreams of a life without him, and finds an avenue via some of her friends and associates.
“Yellow” is a true flash piece, probably a hundred words, about the only brunette at a wedding full of blonds. Her mission? Find three specific blonds.
“Nickeled-and-Dimed” features Imogene, watching her little sister, Lenore, while their parents go to a PTA meeting and dinner. It’s the parents’ first night out in years, the first night Imogene has been put in charge of her sister. And wouldn’t you know it, Lenore has to go and swallow a nickel, prompting a different evening than everyone expected.
I’ll focus on the title story, “Shame,” as I tend to do. This story is set in a New York hospital in 2017 and features two characters, a yin and a yang of this story’s existence, a patient and a nurse.
The patient, Joseph Fein, is just 38, but finds himself incontinent, for a reason that’s temporary, and that’s all we know.
His nurse, Giselle Williams, is in charge of taking care of him, and in Joseph’s situation, this means cleaning and diapering him when he loses control.
The story begins with Joseph letting loose, calling Giselle on the intercom to help him. Giselle notes that she’s just changed him, but that’s neither here nor there. This thing has happened and it’s her job to make it unhappen.
Schwartz continues on with the intimacy of this moment, albeit an uncomfortable intimacy, as Giselle has Joseph turn on his side so she can do her job. We get some details of the process, but not too much detail, and before we know it, Joseph all cleaned up and ready to go.
This story’s title is pretty obvious, this not-yet-middle-aged man relegated to such a station in the world. But it’s not really his story as much as it’s Giselle’s, the person who will have to perform this task when Joseph is long gone, perhaps the rest of her career. There’s a dignity to how she carries herself, though, and that is perhaps what Schwartz is really aiming for here.
Iris N. Schwartz as a way with flash fiction, pitting her characters in undesirable situations, doing it efficiently but thoroughly, making her stories feel more extensive than they really are. I enjoyed her work in Shame today, and hope to read more.
Story366 