The Tartan

Spoiler warning for “You, Disappearing!”

[Disclaimer: This Book Buddies is a little more serious than usual. Apologies if you wanted the typical funny hahas.]

Sofia Johnson: Hello world!

Jimmy Baracia: We’re back for another Book Buddies!

SJ: We’re in a new room today.

JB: We are not telling you where this room is because someone stole our Dietrich lounge, and I’m so upset.

SJ: Today, we have a contemporary short story. On the website I’m reading it on, it says it was published in 2014. If I get that wrong, I’m sorry. I read this last night. Jimmy read this 10 minutes ago. I watched his face and his reactions, and he was aghast.

JB: Sofia sent me this short story earlier in the week, and she said, “Skim this and see if you want to read it.” I just said “Sure,” because I was like, “Oh, whatever. I’m sure it’ll be good.” And it was good! It was a really good short story.

SJ: I really liked it!

JB: I read the first paragraph before I said yes. I was like, “Normally this kind of story isn’t my vibe — but I’ll give it a shot” I’m so glad I gave it a shot.

SJ: It’s a post-apocalyptic — during-apocalyptic —

JB: They’re living through it. In this context, I would probably say it could fit into the dystopian genre. 

SJ: I think it could. It has similar conventions, so it fits.

JB: It covers a lot of similar themes. There were certain parts where it reminded me of “The Hunger Games.”

[Confused look from Sofia]

JB: Maybe not. I just read this and now I’m blanking.

SJ: Did we ever say the name of the story? 

JB: No. It is called “You, Disappearing” by Alexandra Kleeman. Oh! The part that reminded me of “The Hunger Games” was where they were playing that game.

SJ: “Are We Going To Make It?”

JB: It reminds me a lot of “Real or Not Real” from “The Hunger Games.”

SJ: Yeah, I see that!

JB: I wasn’t expecting this story to be as emotional as it was. I feel like in things that are apocalyptic or dystopian, I feel for the characters, but the tone usually isn’t as sad. In “The Hunger Games,” it’s obviously depressing. These kids are fighting to the death. But it’s such a fascinating concept that it doesn’t feel overwhelmingly depressing. It doesn’t feel like hopelessness.

SJ: There’s a layer of separation with that kind of stuff, but this story very much brings you into it, which I think is partially due to the use of second person point of view. The narrator referring to their ex-lover as “you” helps bring the audience into the story, because they’re addressing the reader, in a way.

JB: I feel like it eliminates that degree of separation, because now the lover is not a specific person. The lover is a man, but even so, I feel like the characters’ genders are very ambiguous throughout. It forces the reader to connect the characters with themselves —

SJ: — which definitely makes it more emotional. I think the author definitely does that on purpose, and it works. It really does include the reader. Also, I think starting with the cat going missing is really effective, because it not only introduces the plot point of things disappearing, but a pet cat going missing? That’s so sad! It sort of introduces that idea of losing something or someone you love. It shows the reader that anything can disappear in this world. 

JB: It opens up the story. The stakes are immediately high because this cat’s disappeared, but it has the room to build. When I first started it, I was like, “Oh, this cat ran away. She lost the cat. It’s not actually gone. She can find it.” Then, she’s like, “I have to call the disappearance line.” I was like, “What kind of world are we living in where we’re just calling disappearing animals in?” Then, you go in and you realize the extent of the disappearances. Once something goes missing, you’re not finding it. I think that increases the stakes.

SJ: I also think the author established the setting very effectively. When the narrator calls their ex-lover and says “Cookie’s gone,” it’s very matter-of-fact. That tells us that they’ve been in this for a bit. It tells us the narrator’s stance on it. They haven’t really come to peace with it, but it’s just sort of a reality for them now. I think it’s a very smart way to start the story. 

JB: I do too. I like how the disappearances are detailed throughout, even the little moments that describe how things just go and the world has to come to terms with it. The story spins the idea of the apocalypse on its head. In my mind, an apocalypse is things coming back from the dead — like zombies — and an abundance of destruction and things actively being torn down. But in this story, there’s obviously something wrong, but there’s nothing very violent or destructive. It’s things just going.

SJ: There’s a quote that I’m looking at right now that says, “The apocalypse was quiet. It had a way about it, a certain charm. It could be called graceful. It was taking a long time.” I think that’s a really good way to describe it. And the story ends with — does the narrator disappear at the end? I was wondering if that was purposefully ambiguous, or if I just didn’t get it. 

JB: Yeah. She’s like, “Am I disappearing, or am I just falling asleep?” Then, we go to that lady in Lincoln, Neb.

SJ: What a powerful way to end.

JB: I think the reason I like it is because — similarly to what I said about “The Secret History” — it’s not only enjoyable to read, but it also extends beyond the text. I think it’s very metaphorical, and is an allegory to life itself. I feel like it’s applicable to so many different journeys. The journey of change, coming to terms when someone passes, seeing a loved one sick, just growing up in general, and maturing and going through that journey of change. It paints it in a way that is so powerful, especially with the themes of death, which are definitely highlighted by the end.

SJ: I agree. The main theme I got from it was grief and how we deal with grief. Grief not only as in people dying or disappearing, but also losing a significant other, and that grief and heartbreak. It was interesting how peacefully it was presented. That last paragraph talks about how everyone who has disappeared is on this other side, and they’re all happy, and all of the things that are disappearing are going over there, too. All these people who have disappeared are waiting for those who haven’t. I think that’s a really beautiful idea of an afterlife. It’s a really beautiful way to show grief and life persevering and going on. What a gorgeous ending.

JB: I completely agree. It’s sometimes more painful to mourn the living that we’ve lost than it is to mourn those who have passed — because there’s that constant reminder that they’re still here, they’re just not in our lives anymore. There’s a little bit of tranquility and respite following death and saying goodbye. The ending really captured the way that I feel about death: that there is another side, and everyone’s just there. They’re not really gone, they’re still with us. I think that is such a sweet way to think about it. All the things and people that we love, that have left, are all together somewhere in a place of peace. It’s comforting.

SJ: I love that a lot. I feel like throughout, they were focusing more on things disappearing, as opposed to people — besides the “you” character — and talking about how the world felt emptier.

[Sofia starts to rant about something, then suddenly realizes she has no idea what she’s actually saying. Even I, future Sofia, have no idea what she was talking about. She and Jimmy — ironically — take a moment to congratulate themselves for how on-track they’ve been during this discussion.]

SJ: I think it’s interesting that the author focuses on grieving things, in a way. It’s materialistic, but it’s also sort of beautiful. We take so many material things for granted, and then they’re gone, and you notice that they’re gone. I guess the narrator doesn’t really talk about missing things, but they talk about noticing that things are gone, and people having to adapt.

JB: I feel like it has to do with the large discussion of — not to return to the theme of death, but —

SJ: No, we can return to the theme of death!

JB: That’s all we’re talking about — but that’s also what the whole story is about. I think it shows the way you notice it when someone leaves, and how it’s really hard to grapple with, but there will come a time where you reach that point of acceptance and life goes on, and you’ll find ways to adapt and to change and to, essentially, grieve through that. Even though, in the story, sometimes it’s something so simple, like a cup — but I just think it lends to a larger discussion on grief itself.

SJ: Yeah, absolutely, and I think it’s interesting how matter-of-fact they are with everything. They have a sort of automated phone call when you report what has disappeared. It’s very haunting. Like, when the character of “you” disappears, the narrator just reports it. It was very blunt. I think that’s also an interesting depiction of grief. The finality of someone or something in your life being gone. It also adds that sort of dystopian tone to the story, saying that this is the new normal, and it’s haunting, and yet we’ve adapted to it. 

JB: I love the moment where our narrator says, “I wished that I loved the woman on the Disappearance hotline so that I could call and hear her voice anytime I wanted, and feel that feeling that it didn’t seem I’d be feeling again. Whoever loved her was lucky, if they were still around.” I think that our voices are such an integral part of us and our memories, and I think they’re one of the first things we lose. I feel like I’ll never forget what people look like, but I could forget what they sound like. It’s also very difficult to match that. For example, when I look in the mirror — my family, we kind of resemble one another, so you kind of see them in yourself — but voices are so unique. I just thought that was a very vulnerable moment. I would love to read a whole book about this.

SJ: Me too. I want to see the apocalypse start to finish. Like, the narrator mentions the internet disappearing, magazines disappearing, cups disappearing. What’s life like after that? I want to see more of the world. I think this story is really good as it is, but I would read it if it was a whole book as well. Also, the narrator very briefly mentions that their brother won’t be back at his house. That’s it. She just says, “My brother wouldn’t be back again,” and once again, it’s just that sort of matter-of-fact thing that shocks the reader a little bit.

JB: But then I wonder, did he disappear, or did he flee? But fleeing is not going to save him anyway. 

SJ: Yeah, everyone’s gonna disappear — which sort of segues into what I’ve been wanting to ask you. The story talks about how there’s two kinds of people, right? Do you think you would be someone who would care more [about life], or care less?

JB: I don’t know. I feel like it’s so hard to answer unless we actually live through it — but I feel like I would care more. I would want to capture everything.

SJ: I also think I would want to not waste any time. I think that would make me very anxious, but I think I would want to do it anyway. Just make the absolute most out of everything. Also, I think the story not only comments on grief, but also our own mortality — how we do only have so much time in life. It makes us think about how we use that time, and how people use that time differently, and how mortality means different things to different people.

[Jimmy and Sofia talk about how they yapped for so long and everything they talked about was sad. Oops! Sorry!]