[Simon Hunt]

Maybe it was doomed from the start. We probably should have broken up in June. I would have had the summer to find some kind of adjunct gig in a real city, get an apartment there. But he'd talked me into a road trip through New England—a chance to get to know each other again, maybe fall back in love, like ten years ago in Europe.

I think he even believed it, although on some level he must've known he wanted somebody to do half the driving, so that he could type up his notes between locations. He was researching how the "New England personality" shaped the presidency of JFK—like there's anything left to say about that in 2017. Like anybody would care if there were. Standard Assistant Professor of History bullshit. Please grant me tenure.

He set a full agenda of JFK-related stops but let me pick a destination—then bitched about it the whole way there. "JFK never mentioned Portland, Maine, in any of his letters."

"Yeah, but that's where the International Cryptozoology Museum is."

"Why do you care about a menagerie of animals that never existed?"

It got ugly before we got there.

"Just shut up and write your notes," I said. "JFK existed. Everybody knows everything about him. I don't know what you're going to add to the discussion, but get to it and let me think about sasquatches and yetis and jackalopes in peace."

He sighed then. I steeled myself for one of his remarks about how it wasn't fair for me to hold my failure to land a tenure-track job against him, to resent his position at Hillbilly Forest State College (name amended for comic effect). But he said nothing.

In the parking lot, he said he'd give me time to myself. "I'll find the hotel, take a nap, and text you in a bit."

I want to tell you about the museum. It was lovely: everything I'd hoped, a shabby testament to the wondrous stupidity of the gullible human imagination. Selkies and water horses. Fairies and goblins. Half-goat-half-men guarding unpicturesque bridges.

But what I really want to tell you about is the chocolate cupcake I bought in the snack bar after I'd looked at everything twice and he still hadn't texted. It was amazing, and I ate the whole damn thing.

Small edits:
*Deleted "Dear Travis:" from opening.
*Added "Maybe" to first sentence.
*Put "menagerie" where I previously had "bunch".

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Simon—

I enjoyed this piece very much! It is a layered, compact, well-crafted account of the final events in an unraveling relationship. A place we all have visited. I especially liked the last two paragraph where the speaker tries to put a brave face on his (or her) obvious emotional distress. I had just two questions for you to think about:

1. Do you need Travis? You chose an epistolary POV, but Travis stands between the reader and speaker for no reason I can determine. The advantages of letter narration are that it can often create dramatic irony when, for example, we see the writer saying something in a letter that we know is a lie, or situational irony when something is said in one letter that proves to be wrong in a subsequent letter. In this case, I’m perfectly willing to be the friend to whom you reveal the story of the breakup. It also seems to me that the language is more oral than written. I imagine the story unfolding in a chat over coffee. The loose, casual sentence construction and muscular, realistic dialogue suggest a more spontaneous unfolding of the tale, as do the last two paragraphs already mentioned.

2. Can you help me to see the professor’s side of the story? He (or she) seems pretty insufferable. I find it hard to see how the magical spell that attracted them to each other in Europe managed to last ten years since the lover is so self-centered and manipulative.

Fine work!

Glenn

[John Riley]

This is a good narration of a few hours at the end of a relationship. I like how his partner realizes the truth and resigns himself to it without saying anything. The End. Then the narrator who is apparently stranded enjoys the cupcake, but he remembers it these years later. Poignant. If you want I think this could be expanded into a full story. No reason to do so unless you want though.

[Carl Copeland]

Hi, Simon. I don’t trust myself to comment on fiction, but while I’m here …

I agree with Glenn about ditching the third wheel. Write to me, write to the lover—just not to a placeholder. This isn’t even the start of a real letter: you wouldn’t bring up a nameless “he” unless you were answering a question.

As big a fan as I am of the subjunctive, the colloquial “Like anybody would care if” cries out for “there was” rather than the more elegant “there were.”

“Why do you care about a bunch of animals that never existed?”—Could this be jazzed up? It’s your only chance to show that Professor X has some character, even a bitchy one. Maybe a fancy word like “menagerie” or “bestiary.” Even “Why do you give a shit about …” would animate him a little.

“A shabby testament to the wondrous stupidity of the gullible human imagination” seems overmodified. Can we eject at least one of the adjectives?

This is all trivia, of course. I’m not good for much more as a critique. Overall, I enjoyed the piece; if I hadn’t, I would’ve kept my mouth shut.

I’m assuming without proof that this is a queer story, so I have to ask: is gay life in America today this ordinary? I guess I hope it is.

[Matt Q]

Hi Simon,

I really enjoyed this. The dialogue and narration work well and sound natural. I really like how "a shabby testament to the wondrous stupidity of the gullible human imagination" can also be a comment on their relationship, on the N's gullibility in falling for the lover, or believing that the relationship might get back on track.

I agree with Simon and Carl on the "Dear Travis". You could cut "Dear Travis" at the beginning, and be talking directly to the reader, or an unnamed companion (who I might then imagine was chatting with N over coffee and cake).

I don't quite understand the tenure situation. Maybe it is actually unclear. Or maybe I would follow it easily if I were an American academic?

"Like anybody would care if there were. Standard Assistant Professor of History bullshit. Please grant me tenure."

So, the lover's project is standard Assistant Professor of History bullshit, from which I deduce that the lover is an Assistant Professor of History. As an assistant professor, the lover doesn't have tenure -- at least according to Google, anyway. As I said, I'm not familiar with American academia.

I assume the N is also an Assistant Professor of History (or of some other subject). Since the N wants tenure and has failed to get it, the N is presumably on the tenure track. But it doesn't seem to the case that the N getting tenure will help with, or bring an end to, the bullshit the lover engages in, or is obliged to engage in. So, how does this plea follow on from the two previous sentences? I guess the N is saying: I am also an assistant professor, so I too must do bullshit projects, therefore I want tenure so I don't have to?

But then I come to this:

"I steeled myself for one of his remarks about how it wasn't fair for me to hold my failure to land a tenure-track job against him, to resent his position at Hillbilly Forest State College (name amended for comic effect)."

It sounds like the lover has tenure, albeit at a very minor college. So the lover is a professor and not an assistant professor? So is the previous section saying that, although he's a full professor, he's acting like an assistant one?


best,

Matt

[Simon Hunt]

Thanks very much, Folks. I think this is my first time hanging out on this board, and I'm having a lovely time. It sounds like there's a real consensus about dropping "Dear Travis," so I will think hard about that (suggestions for new title?). Those two words were the last thing added to this, excluding only the opening "maybe," so they could go easily enough.

Thanks, Glenn. I'll think about individuating the loverman a little more, although most of what I want known about him is in his academic project and his hauteur.

Thanks, John. I appreciate your response. You know, I carried this a long time, thinking about expanding it--but I finally decided it was a whole piece at this short length.

Thanks, Carl. very helpful, although I want to keep that subjunctive. This narrator is an academic (or was?) and speaks fussily. I think I will just adopt "menagerie" from your suggestion, though; thank you. You're right about the overmodified sentence, but my hope is that the overmodification reveals something about the narrator. Is it a "queer story?" Maybe--the choice not to specify any gender for the narrator was deliberate.

Thank you very much, Matt. I'm glad the situation and dialogue work for you. I think anybody who's been in American academia would get what's happening, but here's a quick (oversimplified) gloss. Young academics seek "tenure-track" positions, which offer better pay, prestige, and the promise of job security. Those that don't get them often accept "adjunct" positions (harder work, less money; not much security). The loverman has a tenure-track position (though at a low-prestige rural state college that the narrator badmouths). The narrator did not secure such a position and also did not accept an adjunct position somewhere desirable, instead following loverman to his posting perhaps in the interest of saving the doomed relationship. Now, "tenure-track" academics typically begin as "assistant professors," headed for tenure but not having it yet. Once they demonstrate enough scholarship (the expectations for which can vary significantly among institutions), they may be granted tenure and become "associate professors" and, eventually, "full professors." This is why the loverman still needs to impress his employer and academic colleagues. How's that? Clear as mud?

[Matt Q]

Hi Simon,

Thanks for the explanation. So I now see that my confusion wasn't so much a result of not knowing how American academia works (Google gave me the necessary), but more from an assumption I made.

I'd assumed the N was an assistant professor too because the N prayed to be granted tenure, and because someone (usually) won't be granted tenure unless they're already an assistant professor. But, of course, the N can be lower down in academia, and still wish for tenure -- even if it's that's a long way off. And that would explain the accusation of jealousy. Not sure why I didn't get that. I did get that the N was in the third-rate place because the lover was, though.

Matt

[Simon Hunt]

Thanks, Matt. I'm interested in making things clearer for non-US-academic readers, if possible, without adding tedious exposition. Do you see any ways to accomplish that? I'll just add that the word "adjunct", as used early on, is supposed to pull some weight in setting up the situation. I did have in mind that Narrator has followed Loverman to his rural job as a "tagalong" (as many academic couples of my acquaintance have done)--but I don't think this is necessary for the story. It could just as easily be the case that they've been living separately as their careers dictate (I've known a number of couples who did this, too; many of them ended up about like in the story). Anyway, thanks again!

[Matt Q]

That's a difficult one, Simon.

UK academics don't have "tenure", in the sense that that word isn't used in academia in the UK. Until about 40 years ago, all academics here with a permanent (i.e. non-temporary) contracts had very safe jobs, with more protection than a US professor with tenure. But job security has worsened over the years, and varies from university to university, and some academics have no more job security than someone in a permanent position in any other industry. There's an article explaining all that here if you've time to kill.

So, what would a non-US/non-academic reader need to know?:

What tenure is: I don't know that is much of problem. I did know this, at least that it gives good job protection and prestige, probably from US TV/movies/novels, so from a sample of one, I don't think it's that obscure a word over here.

That an assistant professor doesn't have tenure: I'd say this is easy enough to infer from, ""Standard Assistant Professor of History bullshit. Please grant me tenure", which implies that the N wants tenure so as not to have to engage with said bullshit. (Though as I said, it kind of implies the N currently engages with said bullshit). So knowing what tenure was, you could work out that an AP doesn't have it.

that an adjunct is an adjunct professor, and ranks below assistant professor (and maybe that it isn't on the tenure track?): I think knowing this likely doesn't make that much difference to the main arc of the story. If the reader knows #1 and can infer #2, they have most of it.

That said, if I don't that what an adjunct is one step down from an AP, I don't know if an adjunct would be a promotion or a demotion for the N. Just that she's qualified enough to apply for one.

Maybe it's a demotion: "some sort of" could give me that impression, like the N doesn't mind too much what the job is as long as it's in a real city (and a decent college), and maybe the N would even settle for a lower-ranking role in a better place if that meant they could get out (and in the long run, maybe that's even a good career/networking move). Or it could be a promotion, so that N is also finally trying to improve her career, and would take "some sort of" adjunct job, any job they can get, so long as it's a decent college, and would need to put the whole summer in to find it. But I think that's not such a big deal. It's just open to a couple of interpretations, both of which fit. And as a reader, I can interpret this whichever way best suits my take on the story.

If I do know what an adjunct is relative to an AP, and because of the jealousy thing, I know she's not an AP, I know it's not a demotion. I don't know if it's a promotion from her current rank, or if it's the same rank, but a promotion of sorts because she's moving to a better college. But ether way, she's moving on and up.

I guess ultimately, the reader only needs to know what tenure is to deduce the rest. And the reader will likely know what tenure is.

I don't know if any of that helps?

One question. Who is "Please grant me tenure" directed to? Would "God grant me tenure" be clearer? Also, if the N needs to ask God, it's maybe a bit clearer that divine intervention is required -- that N isn't currently in a position where this could happen by conventional methods, unlike the lover.

Matt