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I adored Severance so I’m going to buy a copy of this

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Jan 20, 2023Liked by Mek

Hi Mek! Thank you for another fantastic recommendation. I read 'Peking Duck' from The New Yorker. It is such an intricate story, I could analyse it for hours. I particularly enjoyed the layering, the doubt that is introduced that made me look twice at every sentence. We read one thing and in the next moment its veracity is in question. For example, in the first section the narrator says, 'English is just a play language to me.' This comes right after the narrator has told us how disappointed she was by her first taste of ice cream, which had been much more enjoyable in fantasy than in her actual experience. Yet, in her journal she has written: 'Ice cream is my favourite food,' which we know is not true for the narrator, but written as a way of 'pretending' with language.

The ice cream fantasy sets up a parallel with Lydia Davis's story about the Peking Duck, which is enjoyed vicariously. It also sets up a parallel with the mother / daughter who ask each other (at different moments, in different ways) to construct a narrative for each other to throw over the harsher lived reality. This sentence caught my eye: 'it's not easy to move through the world shielded from the unkindness of others by only their thin veneer of liberal respectability.' Because of the way this sentence is composed, I only see the unkindness here, and not the 'shielding'. Throughout, we're being asked to read beneath the first layer of meaning, what is declared, to scratch away the 'thin veneer' and try to see what is beneath. And the thing that is beneath is not at all uncomplicated, it's not like the story is suggesting that there is a perfectly translatable reality, if only we could find a universal language in which to transcribe it. (We see the limitations of this idea with the partially unsuccessful ordering of the meal: 'So, we'll get B16, C7, and F22.')

Even though the piece has all these layers of doubt, meaning, questioning, I think the story of the visitor who forces his way through the door holds the whole piece together. I imagine the story would totally flop if that final section weren't so strong. But it is, and it brings all the intricate layerings to a crescendo, then ends with a reflective moment of mother/daughter looking (via a mirror!) and looking away. All the while our ears are still ringing with the doubts that the story has been nested in. ('Except when I got to the end, my mind would go blank. What’s the lesson here supposed to be?')

I'd love to be able to write a story as intricately structured as this. Though, it's beyond me right now. I'm not sure if it's something you can work towards. Just seems out of my league. Anyway, thanks again for introducing me to this piece. Kristen

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