It took me three readings of this, and the last one aloud, before I realized that this page and half long story is exactly one sentence long. It is divided nearly equally into two paragraphs, with the single "No:" in between them, the first describing what it was that wasn't what the teacher saw "just before he kicks the chair from beneath his tip-toed feel" and the second describing what it was that he did see. This three paragraph appearance may have had something to do with my not noticing the single sentence aspect.
What was it about Jonathan's story that caught your eye? Do you happen to read submissions aloud before making a decision on them, or strictly go by reading what's on the page silently?
David: Yes, I always read submissions aloud, so perhaps your question addresses what catches my ear rather than my eye.
Jonathan's story has an interplay of interesting rhythms and there
is a great sense of urgency conveyed by the unbroken relentlessness of
his composition. He inserts stoppages in the form of semi-colons and
dashes, which allow the reader to breathe, but never come to a full
halt. Callahan understands this need for motion, and he implements it
well. Such an urgency of motion allows the reader a kind of heightened
participatory sensation from the text. It's like being on a ride at the
amusement park. Only upon reaching Callahan's first and final period does the ride come to an end.
There are so many variables that come into play when composing a
piece of imaginative writing. Callahan seems to share a kinship with Almeida
in the way that each pushes the act of writing through beautifully long
sentences that are anything but long-winded. He and Almeida are much
less alike when it comes to diction, which is another variable a writer
must always consider. There are endless ways to compose, and any
variable can be used by one writer in a way that opposes another. This
reassures me. The ride is endless and endlessly open to change.
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