Contest #193 shortlist ⭐️

40 comments

Friendship Funny Contemporary

Eleanor took a tight-lipped sip from one of the gilt-rimmed cups I reserved for company. She closed her eyes and inhaled heavily through her nose. The tea was specially bought loose-leaf, brewed in a pot that had been at the back of my cupboard since her last visit. She opened her eyes and smiled approvingly over an untouched plate of biscuits. Having exhausted all of the ecstasy she seemed to be able to extract from a sip of overpriced tea, she opened her eyes and spoiled my day.

“I nearly forgot. I brought that book you liked the sound of,” she said. Liked the sound of referred to my reaction, no more than polite, to a long and detailed description of a book I had absolutely no interest in reading. Sadly, my politeness had been plausibly misinterpreted as genuine interest. Now I watched as Eleanor’s handbag dislocated its golden jaws to heave a two-inch-thick, undigested paperback onto the table.

My precious and private bedside book pile was a carefully curated library of good intentions, intellectual aspirations and deferred fun. It was a strange, stratified club where talented Americans lay with intimidating Russians, describing things that I needed their help to even begin to imagine, and junkies and drinkers got up to things that I needed their expertise to experience. It did not need to be jacked up another two inches, especially not by some pastel-covered, book club-stickered, uninvited, chick-lit shite.

“Thanks!”

It served me right. I had started it. During a previous visit from Eleanor, brought low under the weight all the emotion I wasn’t feeling for one of my oldest friends, I had allowed my tolerance for the gossip-archaeology of our shared lives to wear impolitely thin. I had been listening to an exhaustive critical analysis of the life choices of a girl we had both known at school. Desperate to change the subject to something more edifying, my frustration had begun to build. Eventually it had boiled over and rushed out of my mouth as unguarded enthusiasm for a book I had read four-fifths of. The interruption was jarring. I had begun speaking about the book apropos of nothing, clearly desperate to twist away from the conversation we had been having. I had instantly regretted being so dismissive and rude, but not as much as I regretted starting a conversation which opened a path to my bedside book pile.

“That sounds fascinating,” Eleanor had said.

I had given a ham-fisted synopsis of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, complete with some philosophy 101 references and some no-shit-Sherlock observations. My rush to change the subject and, if I’m being honest, to sound clever, had made me butcher the book and expose my fledgling understanding of it. Interesting ideas, that I was just beginning to explore, were forced out into the thin, sunlit vacuum of one of mine and Eleanor’s sporadic chats. The book had been shoved out over the untouched biscuits to do a dance in the steam of the teapot. A dance to declare how bored I was with our repetitive chat of eternally returning mutual mortifications past.

Eleanor had retaliated with a description of a recent favourite of her own. It could not have sounded less interesting.

“Interesting,” I said, nodding into my tea.

“You can borrow it if you like!”

“Thanks, although, I’ve got so much to read at the moment.” I did not want to borrow this book.

“I’ll bring it for you next time.”

You can’t make me read it. “I don’t know when I’ll get round to it. It might just end up on the pile, you know how it is.”

“No hurry! You’ll really enjoy it. It’s nice and light, just easy fun.”

Shit.


This was Francis all over again. I had never expressed any interest in reading a cosy-crime bestseller about the members of a book club who solved mysteries. And yet, it had found its way onto my pile. It was very sweet, really. He knew I liked reading so he had bought me a book. It was possibly the first one he saw in the book shop, an environment he was not overly familiar with, a choice based on no knowledge of my tastes and interests whatsoever, but very sweet all the same. He wanted to give me nice gift, I should be grateful, but my poor pile! It had grown taller but dumber. I’d have to read it. I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings. I could text him to let him know what I thought of it and arrange to see him again at the same time.

Under the cosy-crime bestseller lurked James Clavell’s Shogun. I’d read and enjoyed it years ago having found it on the small, solitary pine bookshelf at the top of my parents’ stairs. Now my brother had passed it on to me, reminding me that I had passed it on to him after reading it twenty (twenty-five?) years ago. He’d found it there, back in its place on the small, shallow shelf as he cleared out the house after my father died. I hadn’t gone to the house. No need for both of us to go. There wasn’t too much to clear out. I had more books on my bedside pile than there had been in the whole, small house. My parents were never really into books; one of many things we didn’t see eye-to-eye on. But my brother and I were on the same page when it came to Shogun, and I would probably reread it. Even though I generally avoided rereading books, it slowed progress through the unread pile. Even though it put me a staggering one-thousand two-hundred and forty-three age-yellowed pages of epic further away from the next book that I had actually intended to read. The true top of my pile.

I say book. It was a was a thick wad of printer paper held together with straining treasury tags; my friend Beth’s manuscript that I had agreed to read in a rare unselfish moment. We’d talked about it so much I felt like I’d already read it. But I hadn’t. But I was going to, because I’d promised and because Beth valued my opinion, which had flattered me enough to convince me to read it, even though I had my doubts about how enjoyable that process would be. I didn’t even have the heart not to read books that I had been loaned against my will; how could I give my sensitive, creative friend honest feedback on her novel? Please let it be good. Please say it was only printed on one side of the paper.     

Sweet, eager Francis, my subtly sentimental brother, diligent, creative Beth and now kind (if slightly pushy) Eleanor. They’d conspired to bury my own choices under an avalanche of their gifts, memories, tokens and favours and built up my pile to be tall as a toddler. Hilary Mantel would not be Bringing up the Bodies any time soon, George Saunders’ Liberation Day was a long way off and Neil Gaiman’s Graveyard Book now lived in limbo at the foot of a strange little bedside totem pole that told a story about who I thought I might like to be and who my friends would have me be.   

I dropped Eleanor’s book onto the top of the pile with a thump, and went back to reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being


April 10, 2023 20:19

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40 comments

Amanda Lieser
04:26 May 02, 2023

Hi Chris! Congratulations on getting shortlisted! This story definitely made me think a little bit more about all of the different books that I’ve been recommended(confession: and have not read). I love the way that you address to the impact of stories, and how they can means so much to people, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they all mean the world to everybody. I loved learning about this protagonist through the books that they chose to read in the books that they could not manage to. I especially loved Beth’s manuscript because I t...

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Chris Miller
12:46 May 02, 2023

Thank you very much, Amanda. I'm pleased you enjoyed it. It's so interesting to find out which bits of a story stand out to different readers.

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16:50 Apr 28, 2023

What a way with words! This description of how we interact with the should-read pile: “It was a strange, stratified club where talented Americans lay with intimidating Russians, describing things that I needed their help to even begin to imagine, and junkies and drinkers got up to things that I needed their expertise to experience.” Amazing! And with tepid friendships:“I had allowed my tolerance for the gossip-archaeology of our shared lives to wear impolitely thin.” I mean… This is wonderful.

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Chris Miller
17:20 Apr 28, 2023

Thank you very much Anne. Thanks for taking the time to comment. Much appreciated.

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Joe Smallwood
15:56 Apr 23, 2023

"Having exhausted all of the ecstasy she seemed to be able to extract from a sip of overpriced tea, she opened her eyes and spoiled my day." You had me there, great description then the jolt introduction to the central problem. That's technique! Also, like someone else commented, there is something about the way that you write, an attitude that just makes you want to read more. I think I get it. You are never happy with how things are being understood or described, so the reader ends up exploring your unhappiness, trying to get to the botto...

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Viga Boland
18:06 Apr 21, 2023

Wow…shortlisted on your second submission. Well done 👏👏

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Chris Miller
19:54 Apr 21, 2023

Thank you, Viga.

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Laurel Hanson
17:33 Apr 21, 2023

Fantastic description of a reader's bedside pile. Guessing a lot of people on reedsy are relating to it. But also, some dynamite prose delivers the good here: "Eleanor’s handbag dislocated its golden jaws to heave a two-inch-thick," and "Interesting ideas, that I was just beginning to explore, were forced out into the thin, sunlit vacuum." Congrats on the shortlist!

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Chris Miller
19:53 Apr 21, 2023

Hi Laurel, Thank you very much. "Dynamite prose" is definitely some of my best feedback yet! Very kind, much appreciated.

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Mary Bendickson
16:23 Apr 21, 2023

Congrats on the shortlist! Well deserved. Knew I liked it a lot when I read it.

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Chris Miller
17:02 Apr 21, 2023

Thank you, Mary. Really pleased you enjoyed it and pleased to make the shortlist. Appreciate the support.

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Russell Mickler
15:21 Apr 21, 2023

Hey Chris! I haven't read this one yet but I'll be back after I get some work done this AM :) Congrats on the shortlist! R

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Chris Miller
17:04 Apr 21, 2023

Thanks, Russell. Hope the work goes well.

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Susan Catucci
15:20 Apr 21, 2023

Great, Chris, a pleasure to read, every bit. Congratulations, well-deserved! :)

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Chris Miller
17:03 Apr 21, 2023

Thank you very much, Susan. Pleased you enjoyed it.

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RJ Holmquist
21:02 Apr 18, 2023

"strange little bedside totem pole that told a story about who I thought I might like to be and who my friends would have me be." This is great! So many of the unread books on my shelf represent my aspirations, and then there are the ones I want to toss, but don't because of whoever gave it to me. Great read, as others have said your prose have a nice tug, I never wanted to skip to the end.

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Chris Miller
22:10 Apr 18, 2023

Thanks RJ. I'm really pleased you enjoyed it. The feedback is much appreciated.

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RJ Holmquist
18:43 Apr 21, 2023

Well done on the shortlist!

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Chris Miller
19:55 Apr 21, 2023

Thanks, RJ!

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Helen A Smith
16:19 Apr 18, 2023

Hi Chris This engaging story highlighted well the nightmare of reading books recommended by friends and other people when you don’t really want to read them and others you do get even lower on the pile. I did once ask a friend to read a manuscript and she seemed to like it lol, but it can be a bit awkward. People have given me books to read that I’m never likely to read. Easy to identify with this dilemma. Fun to read.

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Chris Miller
18:15 Apr 18, 2023

Thanks Helen. Glad you enjoyed it. I've been the one asking people to read things for me too!

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Helen A Smith
19:54 Apr 18, 2023

😀📕

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Michał Przywara
20:38 Apr 17, 2023

Heh :) This is very relatable, and probably most people on this site will agree. The problem of course isn't reading shite books, it's that there's not enough time for all the good ones. Thus, ending your story with, and framing it around, The Unbearable Lightness of Being - a lovely touch! Critique-wise, good voice on the narrator, steady pacing, and smooth prose. It's also short and to the point, and doesn't feel like there's any filler. A fun read :)

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Chris Miller
21:24 Apr 17, 2023

Hello Michał, Thank you for your comment. The feedback is much appreciated. I was trying to keep it short and punchy so I'm glad that's coming across as a positive. I'm pleased you thought it was a fun read - I know the author of The First Rule of Time Travel knows a fun story when he sees one.

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Michał Przywara
21:17 Apr 21, 2023

Congrats on the shortlist!

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Chris Miller
21:37 Apr 21, 2023

Cheers, Michal!

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Wally Schmidt
15:23 Apr 17, 2023

Chris I so love the way you write. There is something compelling about the way you have woven your words into this story and I'm here for it. I could really relate to the mc's dilema of people foisting books on him. I have a pile of unread "gifts' sitting on my nighttable and taking a backseat to the books I've checked out from the library. Lovely submission. Looking forward to reading more of your stories

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Chris Miller
19:14 Apr 17, 2023

Hi Wally, Thank you so much for your kind comment.

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Mary Bendickson
22:33 Apr 16, 2023

Oh, Chris, this piece is so relatable to anyone who likes to read. 'Having exhausted all of the ecstasy she seemed to be able to extract from a sip of overpriced tea, she opened her eyes and spoiled my day.' And the zingers kept zinging. Thanks for liking my 'Basset' story.

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Chris Miller
19:13 Apr 17, 2023

Hello Mary, Thank you! I was quite happy with that sentence. I hoped it would be relatable to the writers on here - most of them will have a pile lying somewhere in the house!

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Stevie Burges
10:35 Sep 25, 2023

Apart from loathing The Unbearable Lightness of Being, this was a cracking story. I, too, have a very similar totem pole by my bedside. I loved your descriptions of the gift-givers - thanks for writing and sharing.

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Chris Miller
13:28 Sep 25, 2023

Thank you, Stevie. I can certainly understand your loathing of that book. I like it, but Kundera was on thin ice when he has a character staring out of a window at a bare wall. Thank you for reading and taking the time to leave such positive comments.

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Graham Kinross
02:47 May 18, 2023

Well done on the shortlist, well deserved. “gossip-archaeology,” is brilliant. “Even though I generally avoided rereading books, it slowed progress through the unread pile.” I know what you mean there. There are some books that are so good you have to read them again but there’s always a huge pile to get through and I buy books faster than I read them.

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Chris Miller
07:48 May 18, 2023

Hi Graham. Thanks for your comments. Glad you enjoyed it. I definitely buy them faster than I read them. Looking at a small pile now. A lovely problem to have.

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Graham Kinross
10:06 May 18, 2023

Definitely not something to complain about, as long as we’re not spending more on books than we’re making. I haven’t quite hit that mark yet.

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Geir Westrul
20:17 Apr 22, 2023

Chris, you dialed right in to the audience (Reedsy writers and readers). We can all relate! As a Kindle-reader, my book-totem-pole is a never-ending virtual stack, but at least it's invisible, and won't topple. I can so relate to the mix of "good intentions, intellectual aspirations and deferred fun" — how perfectly well stated. In fact, this line within its paragraphs was one of my favorites: Now I watched as Eleanor's handbag dislocated its golden jaws to heave a two-inch-thick, undigested paperback onto the table. My precious and priv...

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Geir Westrul
20:17 Apr 22, 2023

... oh, and congratulations on your shortlist!

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Chris Miller
20:43 Apr 22, 2023

Thank you for your kind comments, Geir. It's very encouraging when people are so positive. I was quite pleased with that passage. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

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R W Mack
17:04 Apr 16, 2023

"Please say it was only printed on one side of the paper." The most relatable sentence I've read in ages! Judging some stories is something of a chore. I trudge through as far as I can,but after 5 paragraphs of the same quality, I suspect I've seen the extent of their skillset and give up greater expectations. This was a welcome respite. Pacing was good, characters felt natural and relatable, the overall story wasn't trying to bury me in substance and I finally felt like I didn't have to mention, "show, not tell," much less explain it. I...

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Chris Miller
19:44 Apr 16, 2023

Thanks very much for your generous and encouraging comments. Thanks for taking the time to post them.

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