FFF Competition Nineteen Judge’s Report by S.A. Greene
22nd January 2024
Reading these 15 long-listed stories was a delight and a privilege. Thank you, Ian. But judging them was another matter. It was hard! How to choose between so many beautiful pieces of flash fiction? How much weight to assign to emotional impact, originality, storytelling, craft? And what if I make the wrong choices?
In the end I had to accept that there are no ‘wrong’ choices. Just my best subjective choice after reading and re-reading all the stories until six claimed their place on the shortlist and refused to budge.
What made the task particularly difficult was that all the long-listed stories moved and impressed me in some way. Two in particular that made me wish for a longer shortlist are ‘Ellis Bell’, for its thought-provoking angle on a much-mined literary family, and ‘The Poor You Will Always Have With You’, for its compassion and the skilful way it makes the subject both topical and timeless.
And so, to the final selection:
Shortlisted:
The first shortlisted story, ‘A Werewolf in Soho’, is an inspired pairing of the werewolf trope and the horrors of BSE. I admired the deft evocation of the 1990s, the careful pacing, the touches of humour, and the way the werewolf and the narrator observe each other. I loved the imagery - ‘Outside scarlet lanterns wax in pools like blood moons’, but beyond the impressive craft in this story, what shone through after each reading is the compassion and humanity (or were-humanity) shown one night to a doomed stranger in a noodle bar.
Biology Lessons is a skilful, unshowy account of dying from an unusual perspective. The narrator’s initial disorientation, followed by an attempt to focus, and the contrast between long dilatory sentences and short, staccato phrases, make the first-person narrator’s commentary ring true. I loved the understated tone, the hint of resigned bitterness, as in ‘A finch lands to study my wreckage, flits off like she’s seen it all before. Or maybe to get help.’ This cool detachment, the one mention of the events preceding the accident, the lack of panic or self-pity, all make the final sentence land with surprising poignancy.
‘Cubism’ is a skilfully crafted, uncompromising story of friendship and loss that gives and withholds as and when it sees fit. The first sentence sounds like the title of a painting and there are echoes of the vanishing planes and distorted perspectives of cubism in the fragmented sentences and non-linearity of the narrative. I loved the juxtaposition of the cerebral with the sensory, as in ‘I catch him glancing tenderly at my nursing baby daughter, the catalog from the recent Cezanne show brushing against her chubby thighs.’ This contrast is used to superb effect at the end of the story to create an unforgettable image of Daniel, already very ill, but also very much alive, very Daniel.
Highly Commended:
‘Dancing at the Galway Oyster Festival’ is a masterclass in the use of specific and sensory detail to create a warm but unsentimental picture of an ageing couple’s relationship, their family, their home, and their past. I loved the sumptuous writing in this seemingly simple story: ‘The kitchen will smell of roasting chicken and an Irish voice will rise through it like woodsmoke.’ The piece is framed by a countdown towards some future point. Knowing there is a significant event but not knowing what it is creates a sense of mystery that contrasts with the comfortable domestic predictability the author evokes. But while I was always aware the story was heading towards something momentous, the ending, when it came, still delivered a blow.
‘Over Her Heart a Tattoo: Here be Dragons’ intrigued me with its title and I fell in love at my first reading of this wise and dreamlike story told in nautical metaphors. Rigorous attention has been given to sentence length and rhythm – this is one that very much repays being read out loud. I found the language quietly moving - ‘one day there were no more dragons and she bowed her head and her breath hovered, feather-light on his back.’ The ending - at once happy and poignant – seems to release all the silent pain of two lifetimes. It lands so softly yet with such power I had to catch my breath.
Winner:
‘Scenes of War and Other Things I Have Forgotten’, secured its place on the shortlist by the end of the second sentence: ‘It was as if they couldn’t bear the warmth of wool next to their house-bound skin when naked women were hanging like dirty washing over rocks and horses in Degas’s painting of misfortunes.’ By the end of my first reading I knew I had a strong contender for winner. I love the craft, the tone, the pacing of this story; the intelligent humour of the narrator: ‘I thought, surely I don’t look like the sort of woman who would wear an oversized cardigan the color of misery.’ The links between the naked women in the painting and the empty cardigan, the fate of women in war and the fate of the owner of the cardigan give the final sentence a tremendous impact. This story delivered on all fronts.
Congratulations!
S.A. Greene
Read the FFF Competition Eighteen winning story - Annie Builds Walls by S.A. Greene