NYC — Literary Fiction — Dinaburg Writes

Rental House

Rental House softly veers off into less, “Here’s an unrelated concept about the real world that my characters will transparently discuss,” to more, “These are biting details about the specific little weirdos within the textual framework of this book, which is based on reality but isn’t simply a dumping ground for extended referential riffing.” The broad combination of baseline character traits are functionally parody: childless couple; from different cultural backgrounds; Ivy Leaguers; NYC. If this is your first book with all of these concepts, then the first few dozen pages might be memorable. For anyone else who has read contemporary fiction, it’s formulaic–even tedious–in structure, until a thing happens to kind of jolt the Hallmark/Lifetime characterizations off their weathered tracks. Things don’t need to be completely fresh to be interesting—sometimes, taking the well-worn path in the beginning makes getting lost in the woods all the more harrowing.

David DinaburgMay 27, 2025fiction, NYC, relationships, dogs

what I'd rather not think about

It is one of the those books that does not need to end. The scope of the page does not create a firm boundary of action or event; the book feels like it continues, even after the words cease. Never were a series of unpredictable or “important” events catalogued, but rather a feeling was captured, draped over some things that happened; mundanity poked and prodded until it formed the essential shape of a literary document...

David DinaburgSeptember 18, 2024fiction, nameless female narrator, suicide, NYC

My Year of Rest and Relaxation

In regards to our nameless narrator, she is so unlikable that at first I believed the book was going to be a coda on the prevalence, or perhaps inevitability, of choosing to excuse, overlook, or even come to appreciate the POV perspective of a story no matter how awful the thoughts or actions of the protagonist turn out to be. But no, the book is an internal journey through grief, not a media reflection on empathy; it encompasses how we spend time, surely, but moreso that the “how” matters less than acknowledging that each moment is unique, worthy of said acknowledgment.