Other Writings
- Republican
A short story from Ploughshares - Anything That Floats
A short story originally published in The Paris Review and reprinted in New Stories from the South: The Year's Best 2005 - On Rejection; or, Dear Author, After Careful Consideration
An essay originally published in Shenandoah - Ode to Southern Heavy Metal
A short essay from The Oxford American - Ode to Giant Cowboy Boots
A short essay from The Oxford American - Back in the Day (Just A Few Years Ago)
A short essay from The New York Times Magazine - Best New Novelist: Per Petterson
A short essay from Men's Journal
Audio
- A Love Affair With Skateboarding (MP3)
A short audio essay that originally aired on NPR's "All Things Considered." The commentary was produced by Ellen Silva for the January 17, 2005 edition of ATC. - Outside the Toy Store (MP3)
A recording of Bret reading "Outside the Toy Store". The reading was recorded and produced by Dianna Stirpe, and originally aired on WSUI, the NPR affiliate in Iowa City, IA.
Republican
Page 8
At home, my father was watching General Hospital. He sometimes watched soap operas before work, maybe because my mother had watched them. The shows always left him cross. When he saw me, he clicked off the television and asked if I'd been messing with Elvis's guitar again.
I had been in his closet, twice in the last week, but I hadn't played the guitar. I'd just wanted to see it. I'd started thinking that my father only kept it around to punish himself, and holding the case, I felt sorry for him, and furious; I wanted to cut the strings in half, bash the guitar against the concrete.
I said, “I lost my job today. The health department shut us down.”
My father levered himself from his recliner, set the remote control beside the lamp. He said, “Maybe now you'll have time to work on the ragtop.”
I nodded. I felt my ears going scarlet.
“So, have you been fooling with the guitar?”
“No,” I said.
“It's a collector's item, Jay. I shouldn't have to remind you how much it's worth. When I gave it to your mother, she — ”
“Professor,” I interrupted. “Have you seen my bowie knife?”
* * *
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