“Last Coffeehouse on Travis”
by Bryan Washington
from the September 16, 2024 issue of The New Yorker
There are plenty of authors whose work I’ve been introduced to in The New Yorker and whose other work I’ve wanted to follow because I enjoyed it so much but . . . whose other work I’ve still not read. Bryan Washington is one of these authors. I have really enjoyed his stories, but to date I’ve read only what has been published in this magazine over the past five or so years. He has published two novels in that time — Memorial and Family Meal — and I really want to get to them sooner rather than later.
For now, though, we have a new story, “Last Coffeehouse on Travis,” and here is how it begins:
For a few months, I stayed with my aunt’s friend in Midtown, back when she could still afford to live there. Now it’s filled with condos, and they’re all a trillion dollars a month. But, in those days, she owned the house, and also a coffeehouse a few blocks away.
I was too broke to pay rent, so every morning saw me behind the counter. This was the arrangement. I’d just broken up with my ex—a doctor with legible handwriting, an ungenerous top—because he was moving to Austin and I wasn’t down to do that.
I look forward to reading it and to reading your thoughts! Please share them below!
“Last Coffeehouse” is a wistful remembrance of a time when there were probably many more small coffeehouses than there are now in New York City. And it concerns a somewhat classic leisurely bohemian approach to life that might have existed more in an earlier time. The casual tone of this story perfectly fits a very diverse collection of characters most of who are getting by in life through the unexpected generous understanding of others also just trying to get by in life. And a small very welcome surprise of this story is how much care and technique needs to go into the brewing of a perfect carafe of coffee. (Which might be some kind of metaphor for how to live life. Lots of beans or beings in a carafe of coffee as there are lots of different kinds of people purchasing a cup of coffee at a coffeehouse in the morning and through the day.) It seems kind of like Greenwich Village the way it used to be. It’s simplicity conveys a lot of complexity without going into a lot of detail. It’s generous tone is faultless especially in how it conveys the atmosphere surrounding what is happening. It’s a different sort of voice and it’s nice to chance upon a literary style that is rare and unusual and therefore distinctive and great to read.
This story didn’t grab me, didn’t seem to have much substance. For me it lacks a meaningfulness that satisfies me in fiction. Relatively superficial may be how I’d describe it. Situational, with social interactions, but little depth. Am I missing something? Quite possibly, so tell me…
It’s largely about being gay and what may be typical issues about that. It seems to me that in a lot of recent contemporary fiction the social issues of sexuality (and similarly race) are the themes, as if that’s enough, without “deeper” issues. However, admittedly, I also can get into some writing emphasizing social issues, if done well, so it’s something else, too.
It’s true also that I don’t much care for sex in fiction. That is especially the case with gay sex, because really I don’t like to read about or think about whatever they “do”. Some may automatically brand me as “homophobic”, but they’d be wrong. I have no problem relating personally to people of *any orientation, when there is no issue of sex or gender directed at me. Truth is, neither do I care to read about heterosexual activity, and never did, beyond the curiosity which compelled me at a young age. People do it. I’ve done it. What do I need descriptions for? Brief mention is enough, I don’t mind that.
I hear more than enough about LBGTQ problems on radio—particularly on NPR, where it’s made a major issue in the news *every *day. I know, already. Believe it or not, I have probems, too, which are never addressed. Listening to NPR, one would almost think LGBTQs are the majority, or rapidly approaching it. Do I need to “come out” as straight? No, I’m beyond caring now. Not that I *can’t, but I’m “over it”. Younger folks may understand when you’re older…
Margo’s thing about brewing coffee was interesting. Walter, too: a kid who has assimilated an unusual awareness of the adult world (or *is it so unusual nowadays?) Off hand, I can’t think of anything else that interested me.
The author interview reveals that the story is set in Houston. I didn’t see that specifically mentioned in the story, which only called it Midtown. Are we supposed to recognize the city because “moving to Austin” is mentioned, much as we might presume Manhattan if “moving to Albany” were mentioned? I don’t know Texas beyond driving across it a few times.
Does anyone think this is a *great story?
i would agree with the first paragraph of Eddie’s response and felt the same way. I’ve liked his stories before and they’re pleasant, socially interesting but, in my opinion, are like the Nunez story last week–narrative, description, dialogue but not much subtext, thematic richness etc. I’ve been on a tear so having read Yiyun Li a few days ago, a high bar has been set.
BTW–Houston is mentioned at one point. I too had first thought it was Manhattan although I don’t think there are many houses in midtown.