\nby Ben Lerner<\/span>
\nfrom the\u00a0September 5, 2022\u00a0issue of The New Yorker<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n
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When I became a father, I began to worry not only that I would die and not be able to care for my daughter but that I would die in an embarrassing way, that my death would be an abiding embarrassment for Astra — that in some future world, assuming there is a future, she will be on a date with someone, hard as that is for me to imagine, and her date will ask, \u201cWhat does your father do?,\u201d and she will say, \u201cHe died when I was little,\u201d and her date will respond, \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d hesitate, and then ask, in a bid for intimacy, how I died, and Astra will feel ashamed, will look down into her blue wine, there will be blue wine in the future, and say, \u201cHe had an aneurysm on the toilet,\u201d which is one of the ways I often fear I might die. (I\u2019m sure she\u2019d withhold the toilet part, at least on a first date, but that would just make it worse, amplify the shame.) If I were to die on the toilet tomorrow, I assume Inma wouldn\u2019t share many specifics with Astra — who, like most three-year-olds, finds everything relating to the \u201cpotty\u2019\u2019 fascinating and hilarious — but, as Astra grew older, she would want to know more about the circumstances of my death, at which point Inma would have to either lie or divulge the details (\u201cwithholding,\u201d \u201cdivulging\u201d — all these terms sound scatological). Inma would, I\u2019m confident, eventually tell Astra the truth. In fact, I can imagine a version of the conversation that\u2019s tender, sweet: Inma finally tells Astra it happened on the toilet (let\u2019s say \u201cwhile reading on the toilet\u201d), there is an awkward moment of silence, then they both start laughing, then they both start crying, embracing each other, laughing and crying, remembering me as a well-meaning fool who projected or tried to project some seriousness as a poet, as a person, but who in fact met an appropriately ridiculous end, \u201cSilly Dada,\u201d as Astra always says.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n Lerner’s writing always pushes me quickly through the paragraphs, and I’m anxious to see what comes next. Please share your thoughts on the story!<\/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_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_sizes_undefined=”0″ border_position=”all”][fusion_text columns=”” column_min_width=”” column_spacing=”” rule_style=”” rule_size=”” rule_color=”” hue=”” saturation=”” lightness=”” alpha=”” content_alignment_medium=”” content_alignment_small=”” content_alignment=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” sticky_display=”normal,sticky” class=”” id=”” margin_top=”” margin_right=”” margin_bottom=”” margin_left=”” fusion_font_family_text_font=”” fusion_font_variant_text_font=”” font_size=”” line_height=”” letter_spacing=”” text_transform=”” text_color=”” animation_type=”” animation_direction=”left” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_offset=””]<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/08\/September-5-2022.jpg?resize=388%2C530&ssl=1\")
[fusion_dropcap boxed=”no” boxed_radius=”” class=”” id=”” color=”#003366″ hue=”” saturation=”” lightness=”” alpha=”” text_color=””]I[\/fusion_dropcap]t feels like Ben Lerner is always showing up in\u00a0The New Yorker<\/em>, and I don’t mean that in a bad way — I like his work; however, in the fourteen years I’ve been posting the stories here he’s actually only showed up five times before this week, the most recent being back in 2020.<\/p>\n