Falling Into the Hole: Masterful Character Change In The Face of Oblivion

A slipstream journey to the heart of suburbia, where the 'mystical destination' doesn't live up to expectations, and the characters come back broken

This is the first of something new I’m going to post on my Substack. I’m reading more and more short fiction. I’m forgetting it at an alarming rate. So, my plan is to write little reminders / reviews that I can look back on later when I’m thinking about ways to improve my own writing — and perhaps inspire other’s to read these stories too.

I’ve just discovered the 96th of October, and the first story I’ve read there is a winner. The Explorers features four men making another attempt to find something mysterious, something that a year early had caused a riff amongst the men.

The men’s wives are displeased with their husbands’ decision. Have you forgotten what happened last time, they ask. (The men have not. How they drove around lost getting on each other’s nerves until they gave up. Everyone returning home sullen and ornery. One of them so upset a year later he remains on poor speaking terms with the others. Things were said on this trip that that man is unable to forgive, he feels. Had they cleared the air they would still be a group of five.)

Notice the use of dialogue without quotation marks. Love that.

The journey exposes us to the back side of North American suburbia, the upside down that lives just behind every strip mall.

The rising conflict is wonderfully mundane too. It’s the little things that really hurt.

The first night, and no one’s thought to bring insect repellent. Where’s the fucking Skin So Soft, says the Salesman. The Landscaper and the Electrician head out to find a drug store but return empty handed hours later because everything’s closed except for a 7-11 which was all sold out of bug spray. They climb into their tents, two apiece, and lie there scratching the welts on their necks and inhaling each other’s air mixed with the smell of nylon.

Then again Owens makes the quest harder — not with dragons, nor overwhelming odds — with just the sort of things that would send most regular folks home in frustration.

Minutes later a police cruiser pulls up. They are used to this as several times each day a police car appears from out of nowhere and they are asked about their business. When the men ask for directions the police are of no help. That afternoon the men eat crackers and hard salami in a ditch alongside a golf course. This is around the time when the Salesman realizes he has lost his wallet and along with it his license, credit cards, and over three hundred dollars.

But it is in the ending that my mind has been pondering, turning over the action of the Roofer, as he throws objects into the wishing well on his front lawn. His bitterness at having the postcard pictured suburban dream streams through the line, “I got your wish right here.” I can almost see him grabbing is dick in contempt.

I get the feeling that he’d like a sinkhole to swallow him too. It’s one of those endings that has me thinking that maybe how we show “character change” needs to be subtle, letting the reader fill in the gaps. 🙭