New Yorker Fiction 2015

A WRITER'S WIT
If you find something to tell, tell it to your truest, though that make little to tell; the truer you speak, the more you will know to tell.
Laura Riding
Born January 16, 1901

It's the Bread, Man

Doyle / Cornett

January 19, 2015, J. Robert Lennon, “Breadman”: Samuel, as an agent of his wife, enters a sidewalk queue at a tchotchke shop to buy the Bread, in particular, loaves of focaccia. ¶ In a strange way this story may be about fidelity, not merely the fidelity between Samuel and his wife, but fidelity to traditions that are carved out by our capitalistic culture. Samuel must enter the line to buy bread from the Breadman in a certain manner and with a certain reverence for his wife's hallowed spot. Samuel must know her account number—51093—and sign in. He must schmooze with the Breadman, ask about his children and pets. And Samuel must be understanding when the old man who crowds in front of him snatches up the last loaves of focaccia. Samuel must believe that the same wife, Kathy, who has dispatched him on this errand, would graciously “understand,” as the Breadman suggests to an enraged Samuel, after waiting in line forever. The story is reminiscent of the “Soup Nazi” episode of Seinfeld (Google it if you’ve never seen it, all three of you). See You in Paradise is Lennon’s most recent publication.
Stephen Doyle, Illustration
Grant Cornett, Photograph

NEXT TIME: MY BOOK WORLD [If I finish the book!]

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