Prompt #3: Genre Study

In his famous review of Hawthorne’s Twice-told Tales, Edgar Allan Poe classifies the short story based on its “unity of effect and impression.” Building on this idea, literary critic Brander Matthews (1901) adds that this “essential unity of impression” “shows one action, in one place, on one day. A Short-story deals with a single character, a single event, a single emotion, or the series of emotions called forth by a single situation.” Considering your observations of any one of the texts that we’ve read so far, how can we add to, challenge, and revise Poe’s and Matthews’ dicta? What other generic characteristics define the short story form? Try to contrast the form with other, more familiar literary genres, such as novels and poetry. Focus your analysis on a single formal trait (with concrete, directly quoted examples) from one text.

        While Alice Sola Kim’s short story “Mothers, Lock Up Your Daughters Because They Are Terrifying” is an enthralling ride from start to finish, with plenty of experimentation in narrative voice to keep us entertained, in many ways it also fits quite cleanly into the “short-story” genre box. Brander Matthews and Edgar Allan Poe define the short story as a study of  “a single emotion” that forms an “essential unity of impression.” Certainly, a single emotion—the desire for a mother, the longing for a home—forms the backbone and the basis of this work.“There are so many ways to miss your mother,” the narrator states towards the beginning of the story. Mini, Caroline, and Ronnie—the three central characters—miss their mothers so potently that they succeed in summoning one in an elaborate black-magic ritual as a direct response to this emotion

    However, Kim’s work also expands upon this relatively narrow definition of the short story by demonstrating how the narrative voice in a short story can differ from narration in a novel. Namely, the narrator of a short story does not have to be tasked with “building a world” so that it exists—they do not necessarily have to provide the same level of detailed exposition, nor do they have to flesh out a universe or define its laws of nature. Instead, they can simply drop us in a moment in time and let us alone for a while to get our bearings.

     In “Mothers, Lock Up Your Daughters Because They Are Terrifying,” Kim launches us into a seemingly familiar environment, with a narrator that speaks casually and directly. The story opens with the central group of teenagers in a Staples parking lot attempting to practice a black magic ritual. Of course, they’re attempting to summon the ghost of their mother, but at first glance their actions are framed as just another brand of late-night teenage stupidity. The way the narrator comments with sardonic humor and snarky criticisms of their friends provides the audience with an easy familiarity straight off the bat. By the end of the very first paragraph, the narrator has already gossipped to us about Mini and her “shirty and sharp” tendencies. “Perhaps once everyone had cars, Mini would have to figure out how to live in the world as not a total bitch,” we are told, before we’ve even had the chance to establish any other background on Mini’s character. Caroline and Ronnie are introduced in a similar fashion within the next two paragraphs: short, sparse description followed by a slight chastization of their personality traits or decision-making skills. 

    Kim’s informal tone and use of slang situates us within these characters’ worlds very quickly—but the fact that the narrator’s identity is hidden gives the whole affair an off-kilter feel. This rapid-fire method of introduction often works very well for short stories, moving us past the “awkward phase” of getting to know each character and feeding us other relevant pieces of information as we go along. However, this exposition also makes it clear early on that we do not know who the narrator is. When referring to the central group of girls, the narrator includes themselves with pronouns such as “we” and “our,” but they bounce between each girl’s perspective with a sort of casual omniscience. As we continue to read, we may wonder why the narrator never refers to themself by name, although they detail the lives of the other three girls in the third-person. Even later, when the narrator describes the appearance of the demonic spirit “Mom” with an undue amount of normalcy, we are left even more unsure as to where the story is going, or even what world we are situated in. A work of greater length, such as a novel, might not be able to sustain the illusion for long enough to remain entertaining. This type of smokescreening with regards to the narrator’s identity and the “laws of nature” in the world feel specific to the short story form.