Call me a romantic. Smyth’s sweltering New York piece with a sprinkling of spices and whimsy is without doubt a meet-cute, but don’t let that put you off. It appears in the Liars’ League top ten stories, as picked by the League members, and rightly deserves its coveted place.
It helps that I spent a couple of summers in New York, helps that the story captures that city’s fusion culture, the clash, in this case, of Indian and western. Throw in an intervention by a smiling Buddha and I’m sold.
It also helps–as with all the Liars’ League pieces that I’ve chosen to close this personal anthology–that I love a story written to be performed. Part of that is in the brevity–I like a short story that doesn’t stick around too long. Part is in the apparent simplicity. A story being read out has to work on the first pass, even if you can, and often do, find deeper layers on a reread. And partly, of course, because a story being read to you can be elevated by the talents of the reader, especially when that reader is an actor, which is the Liars’ League’s unique way.
Performed at Liars’ League, 2011, and available to read and listen to here; anthologised in Lovers’ Lies, Arachne Press, 2013
A Personal Anthology 