“Wood Sorrel House”
by Zach Williams
from the March 21, 2022 issue of The New Yorker
This is, I believe, Zach Williams’s first published story. At least, it is stated as much in his interview with Deborah Treisman, who does not say “first story published in The New Yorker,” and I cannot find any other instance (please let me know if this is incorrect). It’s exciting to get to know a brand new author!
This story takes a couple, Ronna and Jacob, to an out-of-the-way summer rental. The story begins with this paragraph about this “idyllic” place, though it sounds ominous.
It was a modest summer rental, the kind Ronna recalled from girlhood trips to Maine or Vermont or the Finger Lakes, set in a small clearing on a thickly wooded mountainside, peacefully out of sight of roads or neighbors or anything else. Jacob opened all the doors, came back downstairs, and remarked a little sternly that the cottage needed updates: the range wobbled, the mattress caved in the middle, the woolly plaid sofas were from another era. Still, there was something idyllic about the place.
The couple is raising a toddler named Max, and it sounds like things get quite . . . strange. In his interview, he says he was reading Shirley Jackson and Joy Williams at the time. Sounds exciting!
What did you think of the story? Does it make you want to read whatever Williams comes out with next? I look forward to reading your thoughts below!
I enjoyed the premise and sense of mystery and foreboding created here but am not sure what, if any, metaphor or deeper meaning to glean. In this world, a sort of benign version of the setting of “The Cabin in the Woods,” nothing changes in this seemingly idyllic rural cabin in the mountains. But…the mom and dad age while their toddler son does not and does not develop mentally. The writer keeps your interest and I thought the end was satisfying but am a bit unsure about whether there’s much more than an interesting thought-experiment.
Yeah the premise has some promise but overall it’s too unformed. From the interview it’s pretty clear he’s just throwing stuff together and trying not to think too hard about it, which unfortunately doesn’t make for a great reading experience. Apparently he cut a section that explained how the situation came to be but I can imagine how that might not have been any better.
Thank you for the comments above. I read both with a sense of relief. I actually reread the story again because I felt I was too obtuse to extract the meaning or figure out metaphors. I did find it haunting and it held my interest.
What a beautiful, heart-wrenching story. For me it called to mind parents of a disabled child, who will always need to take care of them. Even as the parents age, their child will not be independent. The helplessness experienced by all.
Kate, you found a GREAT metaphor here for the story. The comments above mention not being able to do so (including my own).
I definitely wanted to know more about what was happening. Reminded me very much of the unsettling surreal 2013 German film The Wall in which a lady is trapped on an idyllic mountain by some invisible glass wall while everything/everyone beyond the wall appears frozen in time. She lives in a cabin, learning to forage, hunt, and farm, accompanied by a dog. There are so many parallels. Side by side, these two stories make for an interesting contrast on the lenses through which the passage of time can be viewed.
He’s wearing a Grateful Dead shirt in his author photo so you know he’s chill. Also has a story in the most recent Paris Review. Talk about a big debut!!!
I loved the story I was able to let go of logic and just let the story move me. The feelings of being placed somewhere and not knowing why, not really knowing how things work trying to figure it out- this feels like life as a human on earth! The scene when Rhona travels with max to the darkness – haven’t we all felt that fear that behind all this is nothingness? Then the reality of her body falling away…
I don’t understand this story intellectually but it made me think and made me feel.