Review of “Radio Silence” by Holly Hilliard, published in Reckon Review

Radio Silence by Holly Hilliard is a summertime story that takes place at Cole’s Resort. The main attraction is a waterslide – “twisted pink tunnel, opaque and rusted, that had been around since the seventies.” The story is narrated in the first person from the perspective of Anna who, at the time, was a teenager and had been “ogled since [she was] twelve.” This because of her “C-cup” which was the focus of her “male classmates” who “stared into [her] chest.” The physical details of the story don’t overwhelm the story, but they do play a critical role, which we see revealed as the story moves forward. Anna works at the Resort with her sister Mia who “…[attracted] lingering looks… desperate flirtations” because “there was just something about her.” Their manager at the Resort is Jackson Cole (of Cole’s Resorts), and his presence or conflict is the leadoff batter in the story. The opening line: “When I heard the news about Jackson Cole, I couldn’t stop thinking about the summer I turned sixteen—the summer I got a job at Cole’s Resort.” I’m a sucker for these narrative frameworks, in which a much older narrator looks back on events from their youth. This allows a kind of pinging back and forth between the narrator of now and the narrator of then, which, I think, provides a level of wisdom and maturity with which the narrator might use to share her story.

The story moves through space and time effortlessly. In one scene we’re at the girls’ house where we meet their parents, in the next we’re on top of the pink slide, in the next we’re on the slide itself, and so on. In each scene, conflicts emerge between the girls and their parents, the customers at the Resort, the sisters themselves, and – of course – don’t forget about Jackson Cole.

The situation of the story coupled with the easy-going nature of the prose were enough to propel me forward as a reader. There’s an ease of authenticity and voice—that elusive aspect of fiction writing that most or all fiction writers hope to achieve. That is, a voice so compelling as to keep readers reading regardless of subject matter or situation. That voice, that authenticity exists in this story, and it’s achieved, I think, through two main aspects: humor and wonderfully placed details. For instance, at the beginning of the story we get this wonderful description of the condition of the slide: “It cost a dollar to ride, even though it was old and much slower than it had been when I was younger, and most of our customers found it highly disappointing.” That could’ve been enough, but Hilliard moves forward with the reason for it being “much slower”: “The denim worn by many of the slide-goers caused the plastic to wear over time… there were no clothing requirements, so long as you wore something.” The detail of the “denim worn” and the addition of “so long as you wore something” places us readers in a very specific time and place. It lends a credibility to this already compelling voice. We know, for instance, this Resort is not located on Jersey Shore.

Another well-wrought aspect is the way Hilliard layers a current topic into the story. In this case a Me Too aspect. It’s difficult to write about current events or of-the-moment topics without sounding stilted or, perhaps, didactic. But Hilliard’s story, turns out, is a model for how one might achieve this layering of a current topic, while staying true to the story and its characters.

An excellent story that explores the full range of human emotion while also addressing the lingering implications of young women who’ve been mistreated and harmed by men in positions of power.

Read the story here.

Holly Hilliard is a graduate of the MFA program at NC State University, where she was the 2018 winner of the James Hurst Prize for Fiction. She now lives in Pittsburgh, PA. Find her online at hollyhilliard.com.

Keith Pilapil Lesmeister is the author of the fiction chapbook Mississippi River Museum and the story collection We Could’ve Been Happy Here. More at keithlesmeister.com.

Review of “Ken & Sirina” by K.A. Polzin, published in The Forge Literary Magazine

A flash piece whose tone and use of time and repetition allows readers to feel a genuine connection between and with the couple in question.

The story addresses the simple yet profound acknowledgment of growing older as a couple. Interspersed with humor and intimacy, the duration of the piece is over the course of an evening and a morning. It takes place on an Arctic cruise, during which the couple in question—Ken and Sirina—contemplate the decisions of a couple on vacation: Should we have one more glass of wine? What time should we go to bed? Will we make it to breakfast on time tomorrow morning? But when they share breakfast with a British couple, who go on about their children, Ken and Sirina leave the meal and discuss their own future as a childless couple (“They’d decided not to have kids, some twenty years before…”). Ken’s a “…don’t-think-about-it-unless-you-have-to kind of person.” But Sirina is not. So the two of them, Ken and Sirina—who now adorn their statements with “meine Damen und Herren”—are forced to confront their childlessness. They reach some conclusions (“…the healthy one can read to the dying one.”), they sip more wine (yes, wine immediately after breakfast), and they tease each other gently, while offering assurances to one another that are incomplete, perhaps unnecessary, but wholly comforting.

A charming flash piece marked by moments of intimacy and humor. Read it here.

K. A. Polzin’s stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Subtropics, Gulf Coast, Wigleaf, and elsewhere, and have been anthologized in Best Small Fictions 2023 and the Fractured Lit Anthology 3. Polzin’s short humor has appeared in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.

Keith Pilapil Lesmeister is the author of the fiction chapbook Mississippi River Museum and the story collection We Could’ve Been Happy Here.