Your Duck Is My Duck: Stories by Deborah EisenbergMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
There is an art to the short story and I am not sure I fully appreciate it. Instead of a short novel, the short story seems to glory in vagueness and abrupt endings. I'm sure there is an art to reading them and a key to understanding, but it seems to elude me lately. So while I did enjoy some of the stories in this collection, there were others that I thought were frustratingly obtuse. I did enjoy her observations on language and especially the thoughts in "Merge" about the first words humans spoke and how our communication, the written word especially has allowed us to become who we are. And "The Third Tower" about how who we are develops from how we associate different and unique thoughts from the names of things. In fact, those stories hold enough ideas in them that I might give this collection another go after I've given it some time to marinate.
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to observe the moment when, at the heart of the conflagration, the trees that sustained it became phantoms, the fire's memory.
"Can you believe that all that turned out to be then? At the time I somehow thought that it was now. Did it occur to you that it was going to be then?
The tool that doesn't work, Ernst called language.
Maybe these pictures are memories that somehow became detached from other people and stray through the universe, slipping through rips in the fabric and clinging to whatever living beings they can, faulty beings like her.










