“The Smoker,” written by David Schickler
Romantic comedies have been relegated to the genre division. That sparkling genre that’s given us everything from Trouble in Paradise to some of Shakespeare’s most beloved plays has since gone down the dogs, being dismissed as empty chick flicks, boring chick lit (sense a trend), a form devoid of all wit and insight. And, the truth is, those dismissals aren’t so far off. And in literature… forgetaboutit. Critics would rather die then be seeing read anything so light and trivial as a romantic comedy (light reading can be done for thrillers only). And in that enviroment, David Schickler debuted his clever, remarkable short story “The Smoker.” It’s a short story so incredible that it got a two book deal and the movie rights. And at it’s heart? It’s basically a romantic comedy, thouhg of a stranger sort. It woud be easy to get icky about the possible central relationship (between a teacher and his high school student, arranged by her parents), but the lightness of the storytelling and the wit of Schickler’s language smoothly bandaids over any concern. I mean, John Stapleton – the cat trained to use the toilet instead of kitty litter, or the clever use of movies and boxing as metaphors for Douglas’ life. Or the witticisms that abound. While I doubt the movie will ever be made, and Kissing in Manhattan, Schickler’s first collection of stories, was a disappointment, I look forward to seeing where Shickler goes next.