All the while saying things like “We must be getting close!” and “I can’t wait until the day finally comes!” We might never meet up at all we might die before it happened.

What to do then? Or we might simply get tired, and stop digging, decide that here was good enough. We might break through-Hallelujah!-only to find that we were seizing the dirty hands of a stranger. One of us might have tunnelled straight down for a few weeks, in anger, and then tried to get back on track, but now honestly had no idea where to go. Audio: He cupped the two halves of my tush and spoke directly to them. That person might not even have been aware of how off course he or she was. Onstage argues that July’s work is all none sense. Listen to this story Photograph by Nathan Bajar / NYT / Redux Emma Cline joins Deborah Treisman to read and discuss The Metal Bowl, by Miranda July, from a 2017 issue of the. She talks about July’s writing style, her films, and as to why people find her infuriating. One of us might have been doggedly tunnelling toward the other person, while the other person was curling away in another direction. Lit Crit JLeave a comment Summary: The New York Times article, by Katrina Onstad, she discussed Miranda July. But, of course, neither of us knew for sure how the other person’s digging was going.

So long as we both dug as hard and as fast as we could, everything would work out. We’d break through-Hallelujah! Clay-encrusted hands finally seizing each other!-and we would be together, really together, for the remaining time that we were alive. It was hard work, but the assumption was that eventually our two tunnels would connect. Audio: He cupped the two halves of my tush and spoke directly to them. 'We’d been tunnelling toward each other for years. To explore how one memory can affect one's perception of identity and their intimate relationships is interesting and was well-developed in this story. A great short story with moments of endearing awkwardness and a clean resolution.

The Metal Bowl by Miranda July