A young woman uproots herself from her life and moves to San Francisco, where her life becomes entangled with her garrulous landlady and secretive co-worker.
Much more character than plot driven, this story draws together some interesting similarities and contrasts between the landlady, the co-worker, and the narrator. As a representative example of the New Yorker genre, this is certainly one of the better stories I’ve read there recently: occasionally poetic turns of phrase, some almost cinematic set pieces, and striking characterizations. It gets a bit heavy-handed toward the end with some wistful philosophizing, and the plot is really a collection of disjointed anecdotes loosely strung together, but Groff is one of my favorite writers in this genre and I enjoyed the story even if it’s unlikely to leave much of a mark.