Skip to main content

New Yorker Fiction Reviews: Colm Toibin's "Summer of '38"

Each week I review the short fiction from the latest issue of The New Yorker. However, since the issue comes out on Monday, and I get it any time between Wednesday and Saturday, sometimes the reviews are a bit late...

Colm Toibin's "Summer of '38" is a not-very-compelling short story, set partly during the Spanish Civil War in a small town outside Madrid, and partly in the modern day (-ish) era, in that same small town. Essentially, an old woman is forced to confront the memory of a love affair she had during the Civil War, with one of General Franco's soldiers; an affair that produced a child, and which caused her to have to marry a different man in order to cover up her out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Late in the story, her old flame sort of attempts to return to the town and almost runs into their illegitimate daughter, however the old woman averts the encounter.

Okay, I've already made known my attitude toward this story. But let me explain why:

a.) It's a pretty tired story line. The soldier and the innocent young girl from town have a summer love affair. The soldier goes off to fight, or whatever, the girl is left to deal with the little baby. it's proven that there are only really 21 or so fiction plots in all of the history of "story." Everything is recycled, after all, and there is nothing new under the sun. But, this seems a pretty egregious case of that. Soldiers and young women are horny, sometimes they have sex and the soldier has to go away, leaving behind a little bit more than a fond memory. Okay, so what? In this nothing.

b.) There is no conflict. There is the suggestion--the merest of hints--that the old woman may be forced into a situation where she has to introduce her daughter to her real father and all that drama, but 1.) it never happens, and 2.) we're not even sure how the old woman feels about that or whether or not she cares at all if it ever happens. There is no conflict. No mystery. Therefore, no story.

c.) The main character is about as interesting as pencil drawing of a stick figure on the back of a matchbook, and just as multi-dimensional. Maybe Toibin just doesn't have much of a hand with female characters, but this one ends up being little more than a cipher; a paper cut-out of a young woman with not much going on in her head or her heart. Maybe the Civil war deadened her on the inside? Maybe she's meant to not have much character? Okay....then WHY THE F*CK AM I READING ABOUT HER? Maybe, more like it, Toibin didn't really have a vision for the character, but was trying to tell a highly-nuanced, subtle tale about secrets and perseverance through dark times. The Civil War and the Franco Regime still make Spaniards--especially those who lived through that era--a little raw; a lot of people still don't like to talk about Franco for fear his regime still has eyes and ears. Well, without knowing that from other sources, you'd never really have picked that up from this story.

It's one thing to use deft writing and give a story a subtle undertone that is not readily apparent to the eye, and it's another to be so deft and subtle that the point never comes across at all. This story undoubtedly fell into the latter category.


sloopie72 said…
Hi Grant - I'm always glad to see another TNY Fiction blogger. I just discovered you in connection with "Kattekoppen" (which I loved, but I'm so stunned from all the stuff that's in there, I haven't formulated a post yet).

I didn't quite "get" this one in the same way so many others seemed to. It's fine, and the scene with the photographs is lovely, but it's not going to be on my favorites list.

I look forward to comparing notes in the future.

Karen Carlson

Popular posts from this blog

New Yorker Fiction Review #151: "The Bog Girl" by Karen Russell

From the June 20 issue...

My loyal readers (if there are still any, which I doubt) will know I'm usually not a fan of Magical Realism, which, as you may also know, is Karen Russell's stock in trade. That said, there's nothing I love more than having my antipathy for magical realism shattered by an awesome story like "The Bog Girl."

Briefly, an Irish teenager discovers the body of a young woman who as been buried in a bog for over 2,000 years and begins to date her. What more do you need, right? If I'd read that one-line description somewhere else, and wasn't on a mission to review every New Yorker short story, I doubt I'd have read "The Bog Girl." But maybe I should start doing a George Costanza and do the opposite of everything I think I should do.

Where Russell succeeds here is in two main areas: 1.) Making us really love Cillian, the teenager who falls in love with the bog girl, and 2.) pulling the unbelievable trick making the characters…

Holiday Q&A, Volume 1

These questions come to us from Grace. Thanks for sending your questions!! Answers below:
What is the most thrilling mystery you have read and/or watched?
The Eiger Sanction (book and film) by Trevanian is what's coming to mind. International espionage. Mountain-climbing assassins. Evil albino masterminds. Sex. Not a bad combination. Warning, this is completely a "guy" movie, and the film (feat. Clint Eastwood) is priceless 70s action movie cheese. But in case that's your thing...
What's the deal with Narcos?
Narcos is a Netflix show about the rise and fall (but mostly the fall) of Columbian cocaine kingpin Pablo Escobar. Thus far there are two seasons of 10 episodes each. RIYL: The film Blow, starring Johnny Depp; the book Zombie City, by Thomas Katz; the movie Goodfellas; true crime; anything involving the drug trade. My brief review: Season 1 started out a bit slow and I know a bunch of people who never made it past the first few episodes. Some of the acting is a…

A Piece of Advice I Learned From My Grandfather

My grandfather was one of the most learned men I know. He read widely and voraciously, and not just in the sciences (he was a doctor); he loved politics, philosophy, and great literature as well. Whenever he finished a book he would write his thoughts about the book in the front cover and then sign and date it. To this day every once in a while I will open a book from my bookshelf or my mother's bookshelf, or at one of my family members' homes, and there will be my grandfather's handwriting. He was also a great giver of his books; if you remarked that you liked a particular one or wanted to read it, you were almost sure to take it home with you.

Reading is a very solitary pursuit but my grandfather was not a solitary person. He relished having family and friends around him which is convenient because he was blessed with a lot of both. And he carried out his intellectual life in a very "public" way as well. He was, in some ways, an intellectual evangelist. If he r…