“The Buggy”
by Roddy Doyle
from the June 27, 2024 issue of The New Yorker
Over the years we have had a handful of Roddy Doyle stories in The New Yorker, and while I recall never disliking one I also recall feeling most of them were just fine. Here is how this week’s “The Buggy” begins:
There were people at the far end of the beach. Some adults, a lot of children. An extended family, maybe—he didn’t know. He tried to see if one of the adults was carrying a baby or if there was a toddler—a padded lump—plonked on the sand.
He didn’t want to walk over, down from the path, across the sand and stones, to the buggy. It was facing the sea. If the people up the beach had been nearer to it, he’d have known that it was theirs. He’d have known that they’d parked the buggy there at the edge of the sea so the baby would drink in the air—the ozone, whatever it was—and sleep, and stay asleep for a while. But it stood out, alone. There wasn’t an adult or a sibling, a towel or a bucket, anywhere near it. It made no sense.
Because this is quite a short story, I figured I’d read it first thing this morning. I again felt it was just fine, but nothing really resonated with me in any way I expect to last through the day. This is the story of a man — I’d say he’s likely in his sixties or so since he has grandchildren and thinks at one point that he’d like to help the person he’s talking to realize he is not a fragile old man — stops at the beach and sees a buggy facing the sea, and the sea is on its way up, threatening to take it. Through the first bit of the story, he goes back into his past and thinks of other times a buggy played a central role in one of life’s episodes: his own children, his brother, etc. But the prevailing feeling, for me, was one of a man who feels his life passed away without him ever really living. The story takes an interesting turn in the last few paragraphs that underlined that theme for me, in a rather sad way.
I didn’t love this story, but neither did I feel any moment of dislike or distaste. I am curious how others will respond, and I look forward to seeing any comments below!
In his interview about the story, Doyle explains it all. So what’s left for us to say? Except…
What stands out for me is that the main character sees the situation, reflects on his past experiences, and yet hesitates to do what he obviously must do. There is no reasonable or acceptable alternative, and yet: will he, won’t he?
I know that experience. Off hand, I can’t think what it was, but I know it has happened to me (though nothing as imperative). But why?
The story in the new Harper’s is similarly short, and is parallel to “The Buggy”, in a way. A woman discovers a troubling remark her husband wrote about her in a private notebook. Her obsession with it leads her into quite a situation! It could have,stood to be at least a few sentences longer—oh please (one of those…)
It’s called “Liquid Papers”, by a young writer, Nicolette Polek, who’s put out one short collection of shorts averaging maybe half the length of this. I’m tempted…
Thanks for the recommendation, Eddie!
I really did like “The Buggy.” And I’ve tended to especially like lrish short stories. So l tried one of Doyle’s collections, _Bullfighting_. I’ve only tried a few stories… “Tried” is the word. I started them, and skipped along, because the writing seemed trite, mildly clever and humorous (heh-heh, ho-hum). Or the writing was so vague I wasn’t sure what he was saying… Not what I was hoping for after “The Buggy”.
I plan to give the collection another chance, later… But does anyone know Doyle’s writing well enough to recommend anything?
Likewise, I was too quick to expect more stories like “Liquid Paper” from Nicolette Polek’s previous (debut) collection _Imaginary Museums_. Reviews of the collection were so enthusiastic, I had to check it out.
It’s short, 114 pages, but so little text on a page, and so many blank spaces and pages, I doubt the 26 shorts add up to even 50 modest book pages—sort of like a small poetry book, I suppose, except it’s “prose”.
After reading a few “stories” (ho-hum, or even hu-boy), I set aside my expectations enough to accept that this is a whole other genre. These pieces might be based in the writer’s weird dreams, or she’s got a surreal imagination, or some of each. Some are especially clever, insightful, or satirical. You need to read them like poetry, reread, give them a chance to grow in you.
Still, I do hope she follows “Liquid Paper” with a collection of stories to match.
I might recommend checking out the few others he’s published in The New Yorker, Eddie. If you look at the bottom of the main post above, you’ll see the line: “By Trevor Berrett | June 17th, 2024 | Categories: New Yorker Fiction, Roddy Doyle | Tags: 2024 New Yorker Fiction | [x] Comments.” Those are all clickable links and so if you click on Roddy Doyle it will show you the other stories he’s published that I’ve posted on here (which I think will turn out to be all of them, unless he published one when I was on my unintended hiatus last year). They’re likely to be a bit better than it sounds like the collection is, though I’ve never loved one of his stories. I’ve also never read his Booker winning novel since it just didn’t seem like my cup of tea.
Thanks, Trevor. The first of Doyle’s stories you covered, “Ash” (which you especially didn’t care for) was in _Bullfighting_. I had dropped the collection after reading or browsing the 5 stories just before it. Seeing only one comment (not a positive one), I’m satisfied that I needn’t spend my precious time on the rest!
The other three you reviewed are in his later collection, _Life Without Children_ . The differing views on these stories, especially Betsy’s defense of “Box Sets”, encourage me to keep an open mind about Doyle. His writing style does put me off. He may be a writer I’ll be satisfied to sample when anthologized.
I can vouch for numerous other Irish short story writers as top notch/just dig in. Most of those I know are earlier than Doyle. So far I haven’t discovered many recent ones on the level of the old, and I suspect there is what can be fairly called a “classic era” of Irish short stories.
Some of the classic ere names you can hardly go wrong with are Sean O’Faolain, Frank O’Connor, Mary Lavin, and (of course) William Trevor. There are various volumes of Collected, Selected, or Complete stories.
Liam O’Flaherty is another major name, more on the “folksy” side, also great. Geoge Moore is an earlier writer I’ve liked, although I’ve read only a few. Edna O’Brien is a later one, still living, highly regarded, and I’ve liked some of hers, but the earlier ones are more compelling for me.
There are numerous great Irish story anthologies I’ve largely read and recommend for sampling and discovering other authors. _The Oxford Book of Irish SS_ is a fine one edited by William Trevor. There’s also _The Penguin Book of … _ and The Granta Book of… _ . Also, _The Vintage Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction_ , which samples both short stories and excerpts from novels, some great stuff there. I’ll also mention the little Dell paperback, published 60 yrs ago, which I started with. It does a good job of sampling from old folk tales to mid 20th C stories.
Warning: in Mary Lavin, Collected Stories, I marked the novella length “A Happy Death” as being overly long and tedious! Otherwise, I highly recommend the collection, and a lot not in that volume, too.
Roddy Doyle is in a couple of these, and I see I marked one with * , which means I liked it.
Also, an update on Nicolette Polek!
Recall, I liked her new story, “Liquid Paper”, and reviews of her previous (debut) collection _Imaginary Museums_ were so enthusiastic, I decided I had to check it out.
It’s short, 114 pages, but so little text on a page, and so many blank spaces and pages, I doubt the 26 shorts add up to even 50 modest book pages—sort of like a small poetry book, I suppose, except it’s “prose”.
Well, apparently I didn’t understand the reviewz if I thought I’d be getting more “Liquid Paper” stories. After reading a few, I realized I had to set aside my expectations enough to accept that this is a whole other genre!
These pieces might be based on the writer’s most bizarre dreams, or she’s got a surreal imagination, or some of each. Some are especially clever, insightful, or satirical. More fun than Doyle’s _Bullfighting_ !
Beyond that, I won’t try to explain what they are. If you see the book anywhere, read a couple.
A reckless expense, really, but worth reading. I’ll keep.it, it’s unique. Still, I do hope she follows up with a collection of “Liquid Paper” stories!
Unless someone points out and convincingly extols a certain book by Doyle as being a major already classic, then I’m ready to say that the best I’ve read of Doyle is “The Buggie”, and the worst is the story collection _Bullfighting_ .Some of his other collections are clearly better, and he had a hit novel…, but for now i’m satisfied with what I find in Irish anthologies.
I long had the notion that The New Yorker chose short stories by reviewing submissions and publishing ones they thought best. I figured that being a popular magazine, they would attract submissions from some of the best writers. It made sense to me that the stories would therefore rank relatively high quality among periodicals, justifying the high % of them chosen for _Best American Short Stories_ . Or is that more because the BASS editors have already read them before they read all for the selection process, so they are already familiar, and have a stronger or biased response? Does it really make sense that BASS would have, say, 5 TNY stories out of the thousands they choose from?
So I’m now doubting my conclusions. Maybe “best” is not their #1 consideration. Obviously they have arranged to cover certain authors regularly, regardless (Doyle’s”Ash”?). I suspect that other selections are made to cover a variety of styles they believe their readers want to read. In addition, it appears that they like to promote upcoming novels…
What’s really going on?
Eddie,
I speculate it is a combination of factors, including those that you mention, that determine which stories get published. I know there is a “slush pile” that regularly receives submissions, but I’m not sure how many of those actually end up in the magazine. I read an interview with the author Katherine Heiny who discussed getting into the magazine via the slush pile many years ago, but I’d have to think the odds of doing so (without an agent, literary reputation, etc.) are fairly dismal.
There are also authors who have right-of-first-refusal contracts. Alice Munro had one, as I understand, and I presume Updike did too. I imagine writers who appear semi-regularly (Saunders, Hadley, et al) have a similar arrangement.
There is also the reality that many print publications have struggled in the digital age, which may make the inclusion of better-known authors (who are not always better writers, yet attract a larger readership) and novel excerpts more appealing. The tastes of the editor play a part as well.