A grandfather tries to teach his grandson to be a man by drowning baby possums and beating up a couple of juvenile delinquents.
(from Black Warrior Review Fall/Winter 2012 39.1)
The kids sat up and huddled together, dazzled with pain. They ran cautious hands over newly tender spots and winced. With their faces swollen and clothes soiled, those kids looked realer somehow, more genuine, like Granddad had beaten them into being…
I didn’t like this. It’s full of (what I considered) pretty bad dialect and tons of similes like “I shuddered like a loose water pipe.” I just don’t get that. The above quote is my favorite part, where the story felt most authentic, but it was short-lived. I don’t know what else to say about it. Just not my thing.
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