Critique of "A Very Short Story"

Ernest

Hemingway wrote

A very short story

About a love that never was.

The end.

Critique of "Jack Culberg, 79"

Dear Jack,

I'm going to need you to retire.
And don't forget: if an erection is sustained for more than four hours, please consult your physician.

Sincerely,
A college student who wants your job

P.S. All those years writing business memos worked out in your favor--way to keep it straightforward.

P.P.S. I'm looking for a summer internship please contact me by e-mail or phone, whichever you feel most comfortable with.

Critique of "Beer Bottle"

Like cats,
Sometimes beer bottles
land on all fours when they're
Tossed to, what should have been, their death.
But, no.

Critique of "Incarnations of Burned Children"

I find it disconcerting when people sing David Foster Wallace's praises. It makes me question their genuineness. As far as I'm concerned the DFW train is full of ticket-less squatters--supposed fans who base their "love" for DFW on one book, maybe even on the movie version of that other one book directed by that one dude from the Office, you know, the one who got married, no no not that one, the other one... Just google it.
I'm sorry, but the fact that you committed suicide, David--if I may call you David?--does not make me anymore likely to read your literature. The sadism within the book-reading community that attracts readers to authors who've killed themselves disturbs me.
Now that that's out of the way, I would like you to know that I thoroughly enjoyed reading your short story "Incarnations of Burned Children." It was pretty cool (pun intended).

Critique of "Guns for Teachers"

Warren J. Bowe's epistolary essay "Guns for Teachers" is an example of good ol' American sarcasm. By pretending to be in support of legislature that would provide teachers the right to bear arms in schools, he questions the rationality of idea. It is strange to me, however, that Modest Proposal type of writing falls into the category of "essay." While it is non-fictional if the reader understands the sarcasm, the words themselves are fictional, not reflecting the author's sense of truth. Bowe is presenting a persona who sees logic in the idea of the gun-toting teacher.

Critique of "Facing It"

Yusef Komunyakaa's poem "Facing It" makes me question the ethics of war memorials. Supposedly intended as somewhat, not to be belittling but, of a "thank you" to deceased veterans, from the speaker's reaction to the memorial, it doesn't seem to have a positive effect. What does it do for the veteran who's still alive to see it? The speaker, who is presumably a Vietnam veteran himself, seems consumed by the memory of the deaths of his comrades. The opening lines of the poem say, "My black face fades/hiding inside the black granite." I interpret that to mean these memories which have materialized in the form of the Memorial have evinced his identity--he can only see himself in the reflection of the dead men who fought alongside him. There is a sense of paranoia when the speaker sees what he perceives to be a woman "trying to erase names," as if this erasure would impact him negatively somehow. But in actuality, she is just brushing a boys hair.

Critique of Mark Richard's "Strays"

That woman, that man, them children--they a whole family of abominations. You know she waltzed in here today, not a single "thank you" for all I done while she was away where ever she had gone leaving her children with her trifling, gambling, God-forsaken brother-in-law. Them boys call him Uncle Trash, and I'll say there ain't a more fitting name for that man, no. He ain't nothing but po' white trash. Leaving them children in that house like that, letting them burn it down. Then she have the nerve to come into my store tryna buy cigarettes on credit--I say, "Miss Missy, your credit been exhausted long time 'go. It's 'bout time you and yours take your business elsewhere until you can pay us Cuts back for all we done gave you out of our pocket." These white folks 'round here think we ain't got no sense, think we 'on't know how to run our own business. Buying on credit all the time--I know they don't try them tricks at no white stores. If it was up to me, we wouldn't let nobody pay on credit--no colored folk, no Indian folk, and sure not no white folk. But Mr. Cuts, he think he wear the pants 'round here, and he just pity them po' li'l country white folk so. When I proudly told him what I said to that woman, he told Russell to hand deliver them cigarettes to her for free.