It was easily one of the best stories The New Yorker has published this year. I finally had time to read this story today. It’s a story that made me see the world anew, see people I encounter in the streets of Boston with keener eyes, see my own personal history in the harsh light of day. Even though it’s an age-old dilemma, the story particularizes the narrative to this individual, so you feel its significance. The author avoids this by making the characters experience universal – the concept of keeping a secret because of that emotion we all know – pride. It’s very easy to sink into sentimentality or judgement when it comes to people who live and work in a realm outside what is conventional or “normal”. I found it telling that Rod’s real name was John, and john is also the name of his occupation, for what that’s worth – very Shakespearean. Here, the slang is so fresh, and dare I say, authentic (though how would I know?). It reminded me of another New Yorker writer, Junot Diaz’s use of Spanish – though in that case, I find I rely on prior knowledge. I agree with what Roger has said already, and would add that another positive is the richness of the language – the funny way that even when I didn’t know exactly what the words meant, I got enough of a sense from the context. I loved this story, but I knew that going in.
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