Key To reader Engagement
Metaphor in microfiction
Sometimes, a writer develops a metaphor that works perfectly to highlight several craft elements all at once. The metaphor doesn’t need to be incredibly erudite or complicated to have an impact on the reader. It can be simple, less than subtle, but still engage the reader in a way that makes sense of the chosen point of view and the narrative structure. Using metaphor can give a memory more power and a small action more resonance. This is one reason to employ a central metaphor when writing micro or flash because the story gains power through moving the curtain, allowing the reader to experience the story with the main character. The distance between the character and the reader is decreased, zoomed in to mere millimeters. Stories that eschew distance that want the reader to smell the sap, to feel the heat on their necks, to swallow the phlegm in the back of their throats, risk intimacy, risk the reader deciding they don’t want to be so close, that they’d rather look from afar. Short stories often invite this distance, this comfortable seat, a view that’s not too close to the humanity, but micro and flash, they invite the hovering bees, the slick of sweat between palms, the acrid smell of wilting and discarded onions after a hearty meal. They want the reader on the stage of the story with the main character.
In “Palate Cleanser” by Michelle Ross, the narrator (who is also the main character) talks to their child, employing the second-person point of view. The reader is cast alongside the child, both the vessel for the story. The reader is implicated and brought into the story from the beginning.
“See this postcard of a hotel, this window circled in blue ink? That’s the room in which I realized I would leave your father. You were there with me, in fact, though I’m sure you don’t remember.”
Though I mostly picked this story to display its deft use of metaphor, I do want to mention that I love that we get the story occasion directly in the second sentence. The opening sentence is intriguing, but it doesn’t give us much in the way of sensory details, especially a visual that only the narrator and the child can see. So, there is a bit of distance right away, but Ross zooms in quickly, inviting us in.
I love stories that start with making a choice, one that they haven’t made in the past, how the choice is fraught with any number of complications, and that we have to continue to read to see what complications arise! The next few lines assure us that the narrator was breaking from their ritual, their habitual, so we should expect things to go differently.
“Once we were settled into the hotel, I walked you down the street, a sidewalk shaded by enormous elms, ginkgos , and maples, to this French restaurant where they served a fixed menu every evening. Three courses, three choices per course. And in between the salad and the dessert: a palate cleanser.”
Here, we get the sense of movement, we get some concrete details about naming the trees, and then we have the new situation: a visit to a French (fancy) restaurant with a toddler and the title object. Here’s how using the object or the vehicle of the metaphor in the title can give more gravitas to the object/vehicle the first time that it arrives in the story. The title has already primed us to be on the lookout for this word, this object, this vehicle of the metaphor! Another reason to never discount the title and the work it can do before the story even starts is how we can prime our reader for the experience of the story before the first word!
Because we don’t know anything about the father or about the narrator’s relationship with him, we need a different kind of context to allow us to make inferences about why she has left him and why this visit to the restaurant is such an important moment. We have a surface story that is intriguing because of its novelty for the main character, but also, we’re looking for clues or hints as to the reason the narrator would do this, why she wants to tell the story to their child.
“In this case, a lemon sorbet served in a little blue goblet. The grin on your face when the waiter set that blue goblet before you! Your own little goblet. For the courses, I had given you bites from my plate. You had eaten that food dutifully, but only the sorbet made you smile—before you even tasted it. Because it was beautiful. Because it was all yours. That’s how I felt at that hotel.”
This story is all about this novelty for the narrator, for the child, for the possibilities of their new life without the father. It’s not hard to see palate cleanser as the obvious metaphor; something to wipe away the old taste and invite in a new one. A cleansing is an often-used trope in literature, so why does it work well here in this story? One, it’s not a cleansing through water, no falling into a pool, no getting caught in the rain; two the cleansing is imparted through food, is shared between mother and daughter, is novel for both characters, as it might be novel for a lot of readers too. An invitation to get closer, to sit at the table with these characters. Our understanding of the metaphor and how it says more in less words, how it uses the power of brevity is one of the ways that Ross invites us into these character’s lives in this small moment.
“It was the first time in my life that I’d stayed at a hotel all by myself. Well, not by myself really. You were there. What I mean is I was the only adult. I was in charge. I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. I could, for instance, take my toddler to a fancy restaurant that her father wouldn’t even take me to. It was a feeling I hadn’t known I was missing. And once I felt it, I wasn’t willing to give it up.”
If you’re going to use thoughts, exposition and explanation in a micro or flash, this is one way to do it. We get more information about the marriage, more information about the main character’s lack of independence, how they didn’t even realize they were missing it, hungering for it, how breaking a ritual can free our characters, how If the reader is listening, it can free them, too!
“Like how after that palate cleanser, when the waiter brought out that one chocolate soufflé for us to share, your grin vanished. Your face reddened.”
A lesser story might have ended on the narrator’s epiphany, but Ross expertly brings us back to the food, for our moment isn’t quite over. A small escalation that takes us deeper into the moment, allows the reader back into the game of making inferences and judgments by themselves. Our toddler, the secondary antagonist, after the father, reminds us that they have desires in this story, too, that they are getting used to having their own sweets and rewards.
“You were the only child in the place, much less the only toddler. It was not the kind of restaurant where one took children. I quickly pushed that soufflé toward you before you wailed.”
The narrator had her moment of realization, her small surge of independence, but children have a way of reminding their parents and other adults that they are selfish and know how to get their way. Pure emotion is hard to combat, and in adult/fancy places, it becomes embarrassing. So adults will do what they can to placate the children, and some moments don’t last very long.
A very short story, but such an arresting moment, a place where the narrator learns something about their marriage, about themselves they didn’t know before, and all it deployed through this metaphor. The cleansing of her marriage is enjoyed for only the length of time it takes to eat the palate cleanser, but if she’s lucky, like this dinner, there will be another dessert to follow.
Metaphors, especially extended ones, can feel onerous, hard to dream up, and hard to juggle, especially in longer stories. However, when writing micros, metaphors can be the difference between just a surface story and one that connects with your reader. A story of a mother and a toddler in a fancy restaurant isn’t ground-breaking, but Ross uses brevity and metaphor to tell it slant, to get the reader to see it from a different vantage point, to be invited into the experience.
Prompt: What object/image/item could be a vehicle for a metaphor? Which of these could be used to say more with less words? What ritual does your character need to break? How will they break it? What will make them decide to break it? Consider starting with the character making or already making this choice. Consider the use of the second-person point of view here as a way to bring your reader closer. Who is your narrator talking to? Why do they need/want to tell this story? How does the listener exert their own desires or needs? Can your main character find a moment of epiphany?
Recent Flash I Loved:
The Shots Fired, The Shots Called by T.L. Sherwood
Forty-Four Wings by Elizabeth M. George
This is the spot where– by Nora Nadjarian
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Writing Flash Fiction with Raymond Carver
Dec 1-15, 2024
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