“The Coast of New Zealand”
by Cynthia Ozick
from the June 21, 2021 issue of The New Yorker
After a decade of no new fiction, here we get our second story of 2021 from Cynthia Ozick. The first was her new novella, Antiquities, published in April by Knopf. Here we have a new short story, “The Coast of New Zealand.” Normally at this time of year we have the annual double issue dedicated to fiction. I’m not sure why that hasn’t happened yet, but getting a new Ozick story is just as, if not more, exciting.
I’m on holiday this week, so I’ve got this story with me, ready for a lull in the action.
Please do let me know how you like the story in the comments below! As soon as I’ve read it, I’ll share my thoughts below as well.
Reader, she married him.
A meditation on sense of brightly burning life when 99.9% of us are nervous about confronting the boss, and second-guess ourselves, and maybe just think of what we would have said had we burned brighter inside, suffer the indignity of knowing that we should have burned brighter, and still can’t figure out what burning brighter is better, if in the end it means rearranging piles of books of stories. At least that was my initial impression. But that is what an epigram does?
The slightly mocking, precious tone completely ruined any philosophical or thoughtful dimensions intended here and kept making me think the whole pact, and the characters, was too silly to be taken seriously. I’m sensing that William’s comment is shorthand for his similarly negative thoughts about this. It did keep my interest but I couldn’t really have any emotional or intellectual identification or satisfaction here.
Ken —
Yes.