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A review by _chelseachelsea
Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric LaRocca
dark
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
It’s hard to digest this one. Some moments filled me with a deep sadness, others with an even deeper horror and disgust. If you are looking for a short story to twist your gut on a Saturday night, this is perfect. It is without question an excellent piece of fiction. But there was a glaring element of the story that really rubbed me the wrong way.
My biggest issue with this story is that it’s written by a male author, but the characters - Zoe and Agnes - are queer women. I would hardly imply that men are incapable of writing queer female characters, but when the sordid and twisted romance at the core of the story is between two queer women, it does beg the question as to whether Eric LaRocca is in any position to be writing it.
On one hand, the trope of the evil lesbian is tired and played out. On the other, Zoe and Agnes are unique in that both seem to be desperate for something that sounds better in fantasy than it does in reality, and neither is truly prepared for the fallout of what they’re asking for. It’s not so much a story about an evil lesbian manipulating a vulnerable young woman as it is a story about two strangers - who could almost be of any gender - toying with the bounds of codependency and pushing each other to the breaking point. It could have been about two men, or a man and a woman, and still played out the same way. However, there is no getting around the fact that LaRocca chose to use a queer relationship to tell this tale, and I find something very ugly about that.
I tried very hard not to let that ugliness influence my review too much. In terms of the story itself - the vivid descriptions provided in every email, the steadily increasing sense of dread that creeps in with every new instant message exchange - the writing is excellent. By limiting the narrative of the story to email and message conversations, we’re left in the dark about what the characters are thinking, saying, and doing while they were away from the screen. We don’t know who Zoe is, what she does for a living, or what her days look like when she’s not dominating her virtual slave. We don’t know what Agnes‘s relationship with her roommate is like, who she interacts with when she’s not emailing Zoe, or many of the details from her past that may have fed her seemingly irrational behavior over the course of the story. The reader is forced to answer those questions entirely on their own, and there is a lot of power in that.
LaRocca is remarkably well-paced, carefully threading small details throughout the novella, and he does it with the fluidity of a tennis match. The power shifts from one side of the relationship to the other very quickly, and just when you think you know the direction the story is headed in, LaRocca takes another sharp turn to the left or right. It’s jarring, it’s upsetting, and it’s indisputably impressive.
My biggest issue with this story is that it’s written by a male author, but the characters - Zoe and Agnes - are queer women. I would hardly imply that men are incapable of writing queer female characters, but when the sordid and twisted romance at the core of the story is between two queer women, it does beg the question as to whether Eric LaRocca is in any position to be writing it.
On one hand, the trope of the evil lesbian is tired and played out. On the other, Zoe and Agnes are unique in that both seem to be desperate for something that sounds better in fantasy than it does in reality, and neither is truly prepared for the fallout of what they’re asking for. It’s not so much a story about an evil lesbian manipulating a vulnerable young woman as it is a story about two strangers - who could almost be of any gender - toying with the bounds of codependency and pushing each other to the breaking point. It could have been about two men, or a man and a woman, and still played out the same way. However, there is no getting around the fact that LaRocca chose to use a queer relationship to tell this tale, and I find something very ugly about that.
I tried very hard not to let that ugliness influence my review too much. In terms of the story itself - the vivid descriptions provided in every email, the steadily increasing sense of dread that creeps in with every new instant message exchange - the writing is excellent. By limiting the narrative of the story to email and message conversations, we’re left in the dark about what the characters are thinking, saying, and doing while they were away from the screen. We don’t know who Zoe is, what she does for a living, or what her days look like when she’s not dominating her virtual slave. We don’t know what Agnes‘s relationship with her roommate is like, who she interacts with when she’s not emailing Zoe, or many of the details from her past that may have fed her seemingly irrational behavior over the course of the story. The reader is forced to answer those questions entirely on their own, and there is a lot of power in that.
LaRocca is remarkably well-paced, carefully threading small details throughout the novella, and he does it with the fluidity of a tennis match. The power shifts from one side of the relationship to the other very quickly, and just when you think you know the direction the story is headed in, LaRocca takes another sharp turn to the left or right. It’s jarring, it’s upsetting, and it’s indisputably impressive.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse, Gaslighting, Gore, Toxic relationship, Toxic friendship, Body horror, Animal death, Animal cruelty, Mental illness, Child death, Death, Emotional abuse, Self harm, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , and Suicidal thoughts
Moderate: Blood, Child abuse, Gore, and Grief
Minor: Vomit, Pregnancy, Suicide, and Homophobia