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Short Story / Saturday in Monterey (Analysis)
If you have ever lived in Monterey, CA, then you, above all, understand the startling contrast between the monotony of work and the exhilarating freedom of play. Life on the Presidio was a strange existence that consisted of the most inordinately unfair disadvantage of having a normal work routine indoors. Class started at 8:00 a.m. every morning, Monday through Friday. This was just about the same time that the heavy cloud of fog began to lift from the Presidio and the bright California sunshine began to peer through.
The Presidio was a fairly small and private campus separated by two very steep and foreboding hills. In the middle were the dormitories and the chow hall. This is where, at 6 a.m. every morning, you could hear the rhythmic chants of Marine students as they trained or ran to cadence outside the dorms. This is also where Air Force students assembled for morning formation in the twilight hours between the “wings” of the u-shaped dormitory hall. Hundreds of Airmen arranged themselves in straight little lines with perfectly creased BDUs and shiny black boots. Airmen Leaders with red, yellow, and green ropes wrapped around their left shoulder took roll in preparation for the Training Instructors’ entrance. The TIs ascended on the formation at precisely the same time every morning and led the Airmen in the exciting roar of the words “Air Force.” The assembly was dismissed and students scurried away to catch buses, to go to breakfast, or to began walking to class.
A rather old military installation, the Presidio was dotted throughout with schoolhouses that varied in languages taught and age of the facility. Those “up the hill” were newer and more modern. If assigned to a class “down the hill,” you spent eight hours a day inside of a dark, dank building that was probably built during the civil war era. It was, by many accounts, a building with character and history. Every creak or moan of the floor boards as you walked towards your classroom was a reminder of the building’s past. Yet there were no restrooms in the small, wood-frame building and its ventilation and air conditioning systems were somewhat to be desired. Teachers stood at the front of the class for eight long hours and drilled the students on the correct verb conjugations and grammar rules of a language they had probably never even known existed until the Presidio.
The greatest solace found throughout the day was in the ten-minute breaks you got on the hour like clockwork. It was not uncommon for students to pour out of the dingy white structures into the beaming California sun as if escaping towards freedom. They engaged in conversation with fellow students or smoked cigarettes with their teachers. They drank coffee while sitting out on the decaying, wooden steps or they simply sat, basking in the warmth of the sunlight and appreciating the subtle breeze that came from the ocean only miles away. There was always a sense of urgency to be done with that day’s lesson, because what lied beyond the schoolhouse walls was the most inviting sense of wonderment.
As classes ended at 3:30 p.m. students rushed back up the hill to the dormitories. They walked up the hill in their heavy, hot uniforms full of anticipation, racing the sun and hoping that they could catch a few hours of the fading sunlight. They heaved a sagging book bag full of language material on their tired shoulders, but it seemed that they could not feel the weight of the bag for excitement. Those who had been at the Presidio long enough to have earned the right to wear civilian clothes sprang into concentrated action and were on a mission to change out of those stuffy uniforms into comfortable civilian clothes. But by time they made it up the hill, changed into civvies, and came back down for evening chow…this was just about the same time that the fog was starting to descend upon the Presidio once again. It always seemed that throughout the week you were doomed to experience the most beautiful city in California through a dark haze. The sun shone brightest on the Presidio and Monterey in the afternoon, when you were obligated to be inside.
But Saturday in Monterey…Saturday in Monterey was the most uncommon day one could ever possibly imagine. Saturday was freedom to explore the city and all of its charms. Unlike any other place in the world, the spirit that surrounded Monterey enveloped you like a thick, wool blanket on a cold, winter night. The serene and uncluttered beauty of the place captivated and inspired even the most ordinary of souls. Artists, writers, and travelers who visited Monterey, spoke as if they always longed to see it just one more time. You just knew that there was something absolutely mystical in the place and that to those who were fortunate enough to be living there, it was a dream come true.
Saturdays on Old Fisherman’s Wharf were possibly the most pleasant of all. It was where the sweet scent of freshly-made candy and ice cream and the busy sounds of happy tourists played in joyous harmony with the sounds and scents of the ocean breeze. The boardwalk, full of fascinating people from all walks of life, was ablaze with an unbridled energy and allure. Children, lovers, shoppers, and fishermen lined the boardwalk, all in singular harmony with the world around them.
Children laughed and played as their parents snapped photographs of them by the old bronze anchor that lay outside the Maritime museum. They gazed out onto the ocean and pointed towards the sea otters lazily floating next to the piers and the sea lions bathing in the warmth of the sun on rocks peaking out of the water. They ate ice cream cones and watched in amazement as the spider monkey in the little, red hat and jacket turned the wheel on a music box and then ran up to the crowd for donations. Lovers strolled along the boardwalk hand-in-hand taking in the scenery and reveling in the satisfaction of companionship. They stopped along the edges of the boardwalk to cuddle as they peered out over the ocean. Shoppers flitted in and out of the various shops along Fisherman’s Wharf looking for mementos to take home. They sampled treats from Carousel Candies and spent their vacation money at the General Store. Fishermen lined the sides of the boardwalk with their tackle boxes, nets, and long, slender fishing poles. Rows and rows of white fishing line were cast out into the dazzling blue water. Runners, bikers, and skaters trekked along the concrete path that ran perpendicular to the wharf all the way down to Cannery Row and Lover’s Point.
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Gresyr reviewed Version 1 -
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acdoyler reviewed Version 1 -
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The first paragraph is clearly written and flows well, but initially I’m wondering why this is classified as a short story. It feels more like a feature article. But I’ve just begun, we’ll see.
Oh, and the line about the sun peering through clouds is a bit cliche. Cliche’s are overused phrases that loose their effectiveness because they aren’t original. I google it and came up with 20,300 entries.
‘and its ventilation and air conditioning systems were somewhat to be desired.’ i think you misspoke here. left something to be desired? maybe? but that’s a bit cliche too, i’d go for some imagination with this description.
‘they had probably never even known existed until the Presidio.’ missing a verb here. until they attended the presidio? until they came/arrived at the…
‘day was in the ten-minute breaks you got on the hour like clockwork.’ on the hour? sounds awkward. i’d rework this hole sentence. every sentence counts
‘because what lied beyond the schoolhouse’ The past tense of lay is laid. The past tense of lie is lay. Here you use the past tense of lie, as in ‘he lied to me yesterday.’
‘racing the sun and hoping that they could catch a few hours of the fading sunlight.’ i’d change either sun or sunlight, and keep the other. sounds repetitious.
‘on their tired shoulders, but it seemed that they could not feel the weight’ Careful using the word seem. it’s unnecessary here. just say ‘but they couldn’t feel the weight’
‘Those who had been at the Presidio long enough to have earned the right to wear civilian clothes sprang into concentrated action and were on a mission to change out of those stuffy uniforms into comfortable civilian clothes.’ Obviously you meant those who had NOT been at…
‘But Saturday in Monterey…Saturday in Monterey was the most’ I assume you didn’t mean to do this. i hope not. another issue, the … This should be used in dialog to indicate a pregnant pause. In narration…not so much.
‘the spirit that surrounded Monterey enveloped you like a thick, wool blanket on a cold, winter night.’ I suggest using an original thought here. cold winter night gets 850,000 google hits. like a warm blanket gets 559,000. What makes writing memorable is when an author can describe something that people see everyday in a unique way that makes the reader see it in a different light.
‘visited Monterey, spoke as if they’ no need for a comma between the subject and predicate here
‘You just knew that there was something absolutely mystical’ Whoops! you changed from third person to first person.
the last paragraph, which abounds in good specific description, needs to be broken up. Almost every sentence is started with ‘they’. they did this, they did that, they then did this. switch the sentence structure up so we don’t feel like we’re reading a grocery list.
ending thoughts
the narrator uses the past tense. aren’t these activities and scenes still being played out? being in the present tense will make it feel more alive.
also, this isn’t a short story. no big deal, just switch it to memior, blog, journalism, or whatever. short stories have characters and plots.
I thought this was a very clear and well described picture of a great place in America. A few tweeks and you could publish this in a travel magazine or newspaper.
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malapropist reviewed Version 1 -
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So this is more of a memoir or travelogue than a short story, right? I ask because there’s no central character or real plot here. Monterey is an interesting place to write about because of its duality, which you’re alluding to but not yet showing firm control over. But the instinct is right.
First, pick a season and limit your scope to that. Since you’re creating a pastoral scene, I’d go with fall in MRY, since it’s so nice and kind of in contrast to the rest of the country. Mention enough about the climate of Monterey to let people know what’s up with this place in summer and fall. You can’t write this just for people here, your audience would be too limited.
Second, think about the details you need. You could, for example, cut the entire second paragraph of page 1. It would tighten the focus on the Presidio and the geography, which is closer to your stated intentions in the first paragraph. Discussing the routine of the students is interesting, but it’s not relevant to life in Monterey unless you’re a soldier/student. Which isn’t how you define your essay in the first paragraph or how it continues to develop on the second half of page three to the end of the essay. (However, that’s an interesting angle to take.) Get it clearer in your mind and on the page about who or what aspect of life in Monterey you want to write about.
You hit the major talking points about Monterey, except for the aquarium, and while it’s solid, it’s nothing that couldn’t be found in just about any decent travel guide. The soldier/student angle is interesting because it’s not the typical tour guide. I see more students eating at Subway because they can’t afford the prices of restaurants on the wharf. Talk about grabbing the sandwich from Troia’s Market and then hitting the beach. That’s interesting and it fits in that theme of duality that could sharpen this piece’s originality to make it stand out more.
Good start. Keep going with it.
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