homework by helen simpson

Everything But the Fiction - The New Yorker Fiction Blog

Thursday, june 21, 2007, helen simpson's "homework".

Just as boy George opens in Helen Simpson's "Homework," I'll start this comment by groaning and bringing my my forehead to rest on the screen before me: "I can't do it." I can't bring myself to trash this story. Afterall, in my last two comments I bitched and moaned about female lit representation. And I have a soft spot for motherhood. But come on, Simpson, help me out here! So I will trash as nicelLY as possible, making sure to tie the bag tightLY. For starters, "Homework" contains some pretty horrifying adverbs, the worst of all being "reprovingLY" (I started to count them reluctantLY, but it was tediousLY hard to do by hand). Adverbs to weak verbs are what steroids are to failing athletes. And then there are speaker attributions like "George commented" and "I declared" when "said" would've sufficed. On more than one occasion I stopped rolling my eyes at Simpson's prose and started cussing the editors, the ones who lord over the tower--have they lost touch? The story felt cobbled together, with backstory tacked on as transparentLY as badLY sewn seams. So much deliberate exposition in a story should be outlawed--or at the very least, EDITED. Was "Homework" assigned to Simpson as homework by the NYer, for which she stayed up late to dust off an old idea and hack out a story? Did the editors use Epoxy and finish the story over Simpson's head as her narrator does over George? The rabbits pulled out of this story's hat were stuffed animals, with foam sticking out in places. And what's up with baby-robot-thirteen-year-old George's character who shouts "United! United!" in small caps? And what's up with that Sweet n' Low ending? To vagueLY quote the narrator, three double-sided pages became a lot of, uh, reading homework. I'm not going to continue with more bad metaphors, references, puns, because then I'll just be accused of being a Mad Hat(t)er or of just not getting British sensibilities. The Brits are good people. And so are mothers and teens and English teachers and NYer contributers and editors. So I'll sign off with two of the story's redeeming qualities (which I hunted down for the purpose of bitchlessness): -The question of why the mother is so enthusiasticalLY involved in her son's assignment adds suspense, making one wonder what is, if any, the ulterior motive in narrative she concocts. Is it her dress rehearsal for breaking bad news to George? Is it her own unfulfilled literary aspirations? Is she just plain crazy? (At the same time, Simpson could have put George to better use by having him challenge the mother with something more compelling than childish fantasy). -(Though I did not like that the following lion image is referenced to three times)...The detail of the lion image on the Golden Syrup tin, under which is written: "Out of the strong came forth sweetness."

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