\nby David Rabe<\/span>
\nfrom the July 8 & 15, 2019 issue of\u00a0The New Yorker<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n
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Here is how “Uncle Jim Called” begins:<\/p>\n A week ago Thursday, my uncle Jim called. When I picked up the phone and said, \u201cHello,\u201d he said, \u201cHello.\u201d The voice was familiar and yet I didn\u2019t recognize it. \u201cWho is this?\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJim,\u201d he told me. \u201cUncle Jim.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I was very surprised, because I thought Uncle Jim was dead. \u201cWho is this?\u201d I wanted to know. I really wanted to know.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI just told you. Jim. I\u2019m here with Hank. Is your mom home?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d I said. I thought Uncle Jim had been dead for years.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhere is she?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Now, the Hank he\u2019d just referred to was probably his older brother, and my mom was their sister, Margie, and the thing of it was, the bewildering thing of it was that I thought they were all dead. \u201cIs this some kind of joke?\u201d I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re not laughing,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cLook,\u201d I said, \u201cI was in the middle of something here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, yeah? What?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWell, cooking. Dinner.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat? Is it dinnertime?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you cooking?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cStir-fry. You know, vegetables in a wok.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou never did have time for us, did you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n That was a new voice, a different voice. \u201cHank?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure I know what you mean by that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, I think you do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He was right. I did.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n Two dead uncles calling during dinnertime presents an interesting premise. And check out all of the dialogue. As it turns out, Maggie, their sister, is dead too, so this is quite the sick joke, if Jim and Hank are joking.<\/p>\n I’m curious how this will continue. I found the opening section intriguing. I like the speed of the dialogue, and I like when Rabe slows it back down to allow\u00a0Glenn<\/em> to realize that he has no idea what’s going on.<\/p>\n Happy July — and please leave your comments below!<\/p>\n [\/fusion_text][fusion_builder_row_inner][fusion_builder_column_inner type=”1_2″ layout=”1_2″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”0″ border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=”” margin_top=”” margin_bottom=”” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” center_content=”no” last=”no” min_height=”” hover_type=”none” link=”” border_position=”all”][fusion_text columns=”” column_min_width=”” column_spacing=”” rule_style=”default” rule_size=”” rule_color=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=””]<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/07\/July-8-15-2019.jpg?resize=387%2C530\")
[fusion_dropcap boxed=”no” boxed_radius=”” class=”” id=”” color=”#003366″]D[\/fusion_dropcap]avid Rabe is not a name I know offhand, though a scan of his work shows that I have at least encountered him in film. It appears that the magazine’s efforts to publish work by names we might have forgotten over the past few decades is a real trend. Rabe has been working since the late 1960s, primarily as a playwright — winning the Tony Award for Best Play in 1972 for Sticks and Bones<\/em>, and receiving a few more nominations over the years — though he has written some fiction and some screenplays.<\/p>\n