I just finished reading Chuck Klosterman IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas. The book ends with a short story Chuck wrote called “You Tell Me.” Like I do with every short story I read, I workshop it in my head. When I finish a good short story I always let out this breathless “oh” and smile. When I finish a bad short story I say outloud, “What the fuck?”
Chuck’s is a ‘what the fuck?’ story and here’s the feedback I’d give him if he were to give this story to a short-story writing class.
Plot Synopsis: Jack’s a disenfranchised movie critic for a newspaper in Akron, OH. He likes to smoke angel dust Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays before work. He also likes to eat at Chinese Buffets. His friend Rick Rumble asks Jack to pick up his coke-snorting stripper sister in Cinncinati. On the way to pick up the stripper a girl falls from the sky and lands on Jack’s Saturn. Also theres’ a girl, who is not the stripper, her name is Donna.
Things that worked/that I liked: Jack’s an interesting character who gets put in interesting situations. Even though he’s a thoroughly unlikable character, he can be pretty funny. I also really dig that when Ricky asked him to go pick up the sister that Jack does it — even with all the rules of not looking at her boobs or legs or mentioning that she’s a stripper. That’s some good stuff.
Things that could use some work: I’m sorry Chuck, but I crossed out like the first seven pages. They do nothing for the story. The scenes of Jack at work are pointless, and just seem to be there to show that Jack likes to get high before work. You can do that in a sentence somewhere else in the story. The scenes with his editor (Annie?) and co-worker Margaret do nothing to move the story forward.
I hate to ask this question, because it’s almost cliche. But what does Jack want? What’s Jack afraid of? Short stories thrive on tension, and with each page you must escalate and complicate the tension. As it is, there’s no tension here. We start to get a little tension when the girl falls from the sky onto Jack’s car, but then the story just ends.
You don’t really need to resolve the story, but what the hell is Jack thinking/feeling about this dead girl that lands on his car? And what’s the whole point of it all. It’s good that Jack has a task, like how the kid in The Point has to get Mrs. Gurney home. And it’s even good that something gets in the way of this task. However, and I don’t mean to make plot suggestions, because it’s your story, it’d be cool to see how Jack deals with trying to complete his task (pick up the stripper) once the obstacle is thrown in his path. Instead Donna just comes and takes him home.
And let’s talk about Donna. Why does she keep coming over to Jack’s? He’s rude and uncommunicative. It just doesn’t seem believeable that she’d come over, bring him beer, and then give him a handjob. It sounds more like some sort of unrealistic male fantasy out of an R (rather than X) Rated nudie magazine.
No insight on the story or your critique, but I LOVE the redesign!
Damn, way to tell him what for. Rob and Dale would be proud.
I figured you’d catch a few of the quotes from Dale and Rob.
But the story was horrible and if he gave it to our class we’d eat him for dinner.
Ironically I am writing a literary analysis on “You Tell Me” for one of my classes.
But I have a different view on it.
I liked the fact that the story almost makes no sense at all, in fact, it is part of why I love it.
The first seven pages give insight to how fucking whacked out Jack really is.
If those first seven pages were omitted than Jack’s relationship with Donna would make even less sense than it already does.
Also, Jack smokes angel dust on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, for reasons that are self evident.
Oh and as for Jack and Donna’s relationship.
Haven’t we all completely fallen for someone who was completely out of their skull?
As Kurt Vonnegut says, some things only happen in real life and bad fiction.
Jack’s inability to emote in a salient way is the point of the story, me thinks, and a gross reflection of the “medicated” culture.
He has significant relationships and insignificant relationships. He has mundane experiences and exciting experiences. No matter; he “feels” them the same. The way he thinks about them is uniquely his own, though.
Jack medicates himself until he’s numb to his emotions. He imbibes So-Co/Mountain Dew and smokes PCP. In effect, he is self-prescribing anti-depressants. Klosterman takes the artistic liberty to substitute recreational drugs for prescription drugs (but he’s not far off from the effects [or is it affects]).
And, Jack exhibits impressive selfishness and grandiosity, although a modicum of insecurity exists to suggest that Jack is someone who might be real (and you and I might know).
The detail of Jack’s daily experience seems real, especially if you’ve imbibed or smoked something (not necessarily PCP) [or taken Prozac] and gone about your day’s activities.
I believe Klosterman’s essay tapped what he intended: A general exposition of the emotive-less and self-indulged slice of culture that he is familiar with. It won’t resonate with everyone, but it reflects the experience of the Gen-Xers in a nebulous way.