Literary Circles.

Tanisha ran her finger down the page. She wasn’t used to looking at the dishes’ names without checking the prices, but it had been a while since she had met Fabian and Leah, and she wanted them to enjoy themselves. Besides, she no longer had to worry about money.

The waiter arrived, and each one of them placed their order: tabbouleh for Fabian, fattoush for Leah, and muhammara for Tanisha.

“I’ll choose the wine?”, Fabian asked, knowing that it was a redundant question. He barely waited for their answer before ordering the grenache.

“Don’t mind the texting. I’m paying full attention to the conversation, but I have some work to finish.” Tanisha apologised almost everywhere now; her job had become time-consuming, which was one of the reasons she’d dropped out of her friends’ social circle.

Leah dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand. “That’s fine. You never did tell us what exactly you do, however.” That was true. Tanisha had always given them vague answers, artfully shifting the conversation somewhere else: usually to Fabian, who didn’t mind talking about himself. 

"Oh, leave her alone. She clearly doesn't want to tell us. Besides, she's brilliant. Probably got some job in a high-profile company, and just can't disclose the details until the time is right." Fabian didn't throw out compliments. Not unless he believed that people deserved them. And he wasn't wrong; Tanisha showed a great amount of talent when it came to in-depth knowledge of literature, and had gotten her literature doctorate (after skipping her Master’s, like Fabian and Leah) at the same university as the two of them: Princeton.

"Thank you, Fabian. Didn't know you could be nice. What’s the latest news with the two of you? My life is boring compared to yours; trust me on that."

"Well, Fabian has a public appearance today."

 The fingers on Tanisha’s right hand still hadn't stopped moving across the phone screen, and they were doing it at a breakneck pace now. “Really? What's it for?"

Fabian always had a vague aristocratic air about him, but his demeanour had now turned stiff. "Opening speech at a book launch."

Tanisha shook her head. "Hasn't Shadow Defense already been launched?" Fabian had recently published his twelfth book. He still aimed at high literature, mixing as much symbolism into his pieces of drama as possible. 

"Not my book. Betty Hill's." He said this name with such distaste that Tanisha stopped typing for a moment. She looked at Leah questioningly, the way she always did when she needed an explanation for Fabian's behaviour (which was fairly often).

"Betty Hill is this critic who's gotten quite popular recently. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her. She's got monthly columns in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, and The Washington Post."

Leah had more to say, but Fabian had gone 23 seconds without speaking, and that was far too long for him.

"She's an absolutely cruel woman who delights in the pain of others."

Leah tried to smooth things over. "Her first review was of Walking With the Wind, and it was, well, absolutely scathing."

"Walking With the Wind. Oh, that doesn't sound familiar at all."

Fabian huffed with annoyance as Leah stifled her laughter. 

Walking With the Wind was Fabian's first work, and it aspired to such literary pretensions that reading it was an arduous task, understanding it even more onerous, and liking it virtually impossible. When it was published, Fabian brought it up constantly. It was his life, his soul, his pride.

He currently used it to light the fire when he was out of firewood.

Fabian aligned the forks, refusing to look at Tanisha. "She reviewed it around three weeks after it came out, and got the review published in some newspaper whose reader base would have trouble filling up this restaurant. And, of course, nobody paid attention at the time. It was her first review, and in such a small newspaper. Nobody cared."

The food arrived, and Tanisha took a bite.

"She was right, though. Your book was awful."

Fabian glared at her. "I was 22. We all make mistakes."

"You're 27 now. That was just five years ago."

"Not the point. Around a year ago, when this craze surrounding that second-rate hack started, her first review was discovered, and my book was denigrated beyond belief. And since she hasn't reviewed a single one of my books since then, all anybody knows about me is that Walking With the Wind is an utter failure."

"So, naturally, when Fabian was offered a chance to deliver an opening speech at her book launch, her first ever public appearance, he took it without a single moment of consideration."

Tanisha looked from Leah's face (amused, with a slight amount of tiredness (understandable; she lived with Fabian)) to Fabian's (cold, filled with hatred (basically, his normal expression: the man was the biggest diva she'd ever met)) and wondered how Leah had tolerated him for eight years. 

"He offers entertainment, and everything else is just the cost of the ticket.", she'd told her once after a round of drinks.

Tanisha's phone rang, and she nearly dropped it. Her face adopted its usual apologetic expression. "Just a minute.", she said, rising from the table.

Her dinner partners heard a little of her conversation before she left. "Yes, you have to. I just- I can’t do it. Going there means saying the whole thing. I can’t- What? Yeah, I'm here with… him. Stop laughing, Javed." She walked away, gesturing with annoyance, forgetting, as always, that the person she was talking to couldn’t see her.

The wine bottle was placed on the table, and Leah and Fabian exchanged a glance. "What do you think that was about?", Leah asked.

"Well, I mean, there was that one party where I had a little too much to drink, and Tanisha, well, you know what she was like before she could hold her liquor."

Leah’s eyes widened. "Oh, you don't think it's-" Fabian kicked her leg under the table, in an attempt to warn her that Tanisha was on the way.

"Sorry for that. Anyway, what's her book about?" Tanisha sat down, running a hand through her hair. Noticing the wine, and realising that she needed it, she poured a glass for herself.

"Well, I don't remember the name, but it's something to do with the art of book reviewing." 

Fabian took a bite of his salad, twirling a fork in the air as a replacement for his gestures. "Surprisingly enough, it doesn't have a chapter on how to crush people's hopes and dreams, or even an elementary guide to soul-sucking."

Leah swatted his arm. "Fabian, come on. Be polite."

"Ugh. Fine, Betty Hill is actually an incredibly discerning critic who deserves the praise she's received, and not a dimwitted ninny with absolutely no knowledge of literature. She's brilliantly managed the art of literary criticism, and I hope that I manage to write something worthy of her attention."

Leah nodded approvingly. "There. Now, was that so hard?"

"I refuse to dignify that comment with a reply. Tanisha, what is your opinion of Shadow Defense? Not a single person has reviewed it so far, so you may as well do it yourself."

He'd had it delivered to her on the day of the launch, two months ago. Tanisha cast her mind back to her bookshelf, where all of Fabian's books had gathered dust, apart from his latest. The reason was simple: it hadn't been taken out of its plastic cover yet.

"Oh, I- It was- It was great. Really- really good. I especially liked the part with-" She racked her brains. What did she remember about his latest book? "-the protagonist, Andrea, where you showcased her suffering. Very moving, and skillfully written."

Fabian’s protagonists always suffered, and she hoped he’d continued along the same track. Ah, what else, what else?

“The symbolism was great. The bit with the difficult choices she had to make, and the underlying themes were written beautifully. Not in the face, but not too subtle, either.” She prayed silently that she’d said the right things and that he hadn’t noticed the pauses and question marks that accompanied nearly every phrase.

“The symbolism.”, he said finally, considering her praise. “You’re talking about the rivers, right? And the underlying theme of decisions?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’m glad somebody noticed. It should have received glowing reviews, but instead, I have nothing. Not a single critic has dared to touch my work.”

He would have gone on about his unrecognised genius, unassisted, for hours, but was prevented by the sound of a notification.

He looked at his phone and said slowly: "It's from the people that approached me on behalf of Betty Hill. Apparently, she's had to cancel, so the launch isn't happening, and neither is my speech. They thank me for accepting, but my services are no longer required."

Tanisha furrowed her eyebrows. "Really? That's strange. I wonder why she cancelled. Do you know if she'll be rescheduling the launch, or at least-"

"The text says that she cancelled because she doesn't feel ready to make a public appearance yet. 'Due to extenuating circumstances' is the exact phrase they've used." Fabian sounded a little dazed, as if he hadn't fully accepted the news.

Tanisha nodded, taking another bite of her dish. "Too bad."

"Probably just got cold feet. Or stage fright.", Leah suggested.

"Maybe." Fabian cleared his plate, showing a lack of emotion for precisely seven more seconds before he returned to more interesting topics of conversation. There was only so much time he could waste on Betty Hill when there were whispers about old acquaintances to share.

*

The Washington Post

Excerpts from Betty Hill's review of Shadow Defense (written by Fabian Capell)

Combining the literal and the figurative, Capell weaves his story with the mastery of one who has honed the skill of writing... Symbolism is strong, and the two rivers, showing the strength of the consequences of her choices, serve their respective purposes perfectly till the very end... it is wholly absorbing, and the events naturally coalesce in the climax... the protagonist represents not only herself, but every person who has ever had to make a choice... The underlying theme of the difficulty of decisions is masterfully portrayed… Despite its title, Shadow Defense provides compelling arguments... To conclude, it is a literary masterpiece, and is worthy of the great acclaim it will receive over the years to come.