Read Benjamin’s story here.
This is a short story about the relationships we have with one another and the grander world around us–a story of connection and loss. “Between Stars” expands and contracts, zooming in, zooming out — showing the contrast between what we’ve lost and what/who we keep close as a way of existing in a meaningful way, illumining our intimate connections with others. But what do those relationships mean against the grandness of all of this? This world, this atmosphere, this galaxy, and beyond — those places and spaces we have yet to define. And nothing promised to us, ever, except for this:
“Given time, the sun burns out. The Earth’s orbit widens as the sun loses mass and the rock finds the star less compelling. But the planet doesn’t stray fast enough; the sun grows as it dies. It reddens and swells, grasping at the Earth, charring it in a flaming embrace.
But not yet.”
What are your thoughts?
Tagged: Benjamin Kolp, Kenyon Review, short stories
Gorgeous prose. I admit I’m a sucker for metaphors involving love and space, but even so…
I think it’s so interesting how much the choice of narrator affects the story. If Ryan were the voice telling this story, it would seem much too sentimental (in my opinion). However, Ryan also doesn’t get much characterization this way, and there isn’t much of the narrator either. The story lives and breathes by the juxtaposition of the italicized vs. unitalicized narratives, and the author does it well:
“Soon, your batteries will die, the last ion shaking free from your plutonium fuel, the last cough of warmth drifting through your thermocouples. We will stop speaking to you. You will stop whispering back. But you will be remembered by the pictures you sent…”
Hats off to a writer who can compare a piece of technology to an ex-lover in a pretty universal (pun intended?) way, and do it with so much grace!
The story clearly trades some elements of craft for others (e.g. the distinct lack of characterization), but that doesn’t detract from the way it moves me. It’s a very memorable piece.
I agree, Greta — “The story lives and breathes by the juxtaposition of the italicized vs. unitalicized narratives” — do you have additional thoughts about this? I mean, the italicized sections are a bit abstract, vague, cryptic–something along those lines. What do you make of them?
The non-italicized portions are just as vague, maybe intentionally. Maybe the author was attempting to displace the story as it went along, in the same way that Ryan’s ex-wife is fading away. What’s interesting to me is that we don’t know if it feels that way to Ryan himself, or just to the narrator. The story lacks a lot.
Still, I find the story relatable. There’s this beautiful sense, from the italicized part, of What We Leave Behind. The author seems to be comparing Earth’s legacy with the legacy of this ex-wife figure, out of fear and wonder. And don’t we always sort of feel that way about former loves of our current loves? Maybe I’m simplifying too much. Their relationship wasn’t really explained at all, making it feel like a general relationship stereotype. But I was left with the sense of trepidation that the author (I’m guessing) wanted me to feel.
It’s almost nihilistic…like you alluded with your question:”But what do those relationships mean against the grandness of all of this?” Do you think the narrator still believes that intimacy is important?
Good question, Greta. I don’t know. It feels as though she thinks of it with a kind of cold distance and a necessity.
i saw the narrators boyfriend as the one being juxtaposed and compared to a dying sun. He being still strong but sort of fading. And that she was saying he would sort of destroy her in the process of his fading just as he sun would destroy the earth as it dies. But not yet. I think this story was rather ominous in the same way that it is awe inspiring. The way it compares the solar system to her relationship and really to all relationships, and to all teenagers growing up. It’s sort of sad, fatalistic, saying we all end up with the same fate as the solar system basically being consumed by what we orbit.
Hi Val, thanks for the post! It does feel as though the narrator is lamenting some aspect of her relationship “a sad song you can’t forget” but also the way we continue on these paths–relationships, etc–without much thought or hope for anything different, similar to the “exact spot the sun will rise” everyday. No thinking, just cycling through.
There is a lot of terminology that compares the boyfriend to the sun, he’s doing musical riffs like a solar flare, and pulling people into him as the sun pulls planets into its orbit. But after reading this a second time I think what’s significant is the distance between the earth and the sun, and comparatively the distance between the narrator and her boyfriend. Just vast empty space. it seems insurmountable. Hopeless. Except for those italicised parts which I can’t stop thinking about. Its so vague. But maybe it represents some hope of communication between galaxies. Some impossible glimmer of hope? I mean those satellites travelled that distance. Past that cold vast empty space and sent back pictures. And bring with them information. But for what purpose? Anyway, thanks for giving me something good to read and think about. This is good!