Each week I review the short fiction from a recent issue of The New Yorker ...who said that an English Minor wasn't good for anything? Issue: Sept. 9th Story: The Heron Author: Dorthe Nors Plot: A creepy, morbid Dutch lady sits by a pond and gets creeped out by the herons. She sees one sick heron laying his head on a bench, and it skeeves her out. Then she remembers when she used to run around the pond with her childhood friend Lorenz. Then she has a twisted day dream about the young mothers who circle the pond with their strollers, imagining what would happen if they swelled up and exploded. Review: Okay, this story has one major thing going for it; it's short. At barely a page and a half, this is my kind of short story. Nothing makes me read more carefully than when I can see that telltale little black diamond the New Yorker uses at the end of articles peeking at me after only about one page. The narrator is highly intelligent, but depressed ( the two often go ha
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