The pickings are slim in this week’s issue. But there’s one item worth mentioning. Frances Hwang’s short story “Blue Roses” engaged me immediately with its simple opening, “A few months ago, I asked my daughter if she would invite my good friend Wang Peisan over for Christmas dinner.” Written in the first person, “Blue Roses” is about the unexpectedly strong bond that develops between two old ladies, Lin Fanghui – the “I” of the story – and Wang Peisan. At first, Lin Fanghui says bluntly, “I had a feeling that a friendship with Wang Peisan would be more trouble than it is worth.” Lin Fanghui’s essence is her brusqueness. She is curt with everyone – her husband, her daughters, her “friend” Wang Peisan – and over the course of the story I found myself enjoying her prickly company. Her bluntness is refreshing. “Blue Roses” contains at least one inspired sentence, a description of Wang Peisan’s eyes: “Her eyes were murky gray, the color of oysters, with the kind of opaqueness you see in the elderly or the blind.” At the story’s end, I felt I’d gained an insight into life’s inherent messiness. Lin Fanghui says, “Perhaps, in the end, we need these small daily irritants, a bit of sediment in our mouths, to keep life interesting.” I think that’s worth pondering.
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