Review of Erika Dreifus, “Before Sunrise,” from The Best of Brevity, edited by Zoë Bossiere and Dinty W. Moore, 96-98.  Brookline, MA: Rose Metal Press, 2020.

This is a harrowing story of resilience.  “Before Sunrise” tells the story of a woman, a second-person “you”, who was assaulted while running along the East River at midday.  The essay begins with the return to her apartment sometime later in the day; there does not seem to be any clear time markers, but it seems to be in the evening.  It tells some of the events through the night and then ends ‘before sunrise’, hence the title. 

We don’t know much about the main character of the story, perhaps it is the same person as the narrator; there doesn’t seem to be anything to contradict that and some of the intimate details suggest at the very least that the narrator is someone very intimate with the main character.  The narrator does seem to know a good bit about the main character – that they are 39; they have not yet decorated, or really moved into, their “tiny one-bedroom on the 29th floor” that seems even after two years a “temporary” dwelling (96).  We learn the main character has given away hundreds of books and some furniture.  She had once lived in Massachusetts where there was room for all these things.  More possessions are in her parent’s basement.  The walls in her current apartment are bare.  There is an odd feeling that this tiny apartment, which one would expect to be cramped, is empty and cold, yet beset by police and reporters who keep calling, a reflection of the concern and worry for “a privileged white woman” assaulted in broad daylight near the mayor’s mansion (97).

The main character is still in great pain from a “slash across the forehead” and a broken nose (97).  After taking several Percocets, she still cannot sleep despite being exhausted and weary.  There is a nice juxtaposition between silence and speaking: “you don’t want to talk to the reporters.  But you do have things to say (97).”  In fact, that line expresses something very empowering – the control and ownership of one’s speech.  The character then composes and revises an email message to loved ones to give an update, taking up at least 7 paragraphs (a long email).  The message contains wisdom as well as news – that she is blessed to be alive, that she is grateful.  She hits send as the sun rises.  I don’t think it’d be fair to expect a survivor of an assault to express love and gratitude, but this story tells how one survivor did feel that way, and that’s important too.

I found that this story had an interesting relationship to Amy Butcher’s “Women These Days.” In that essay there are many stories briefly told with graphic details of the assault.  “Before Sunrise” omits many of the explicit details, though they are there, and picks up the thread of what happens to a particular survivor as they try to return to their life. 

I think the style here is what I would call straight forward; it is not self-consciously artful.  There is a kind of traditional story arc to it.  The details of the apartment present a lot of characterization and helps to serve as a metaphor of the main character’s emotional space.  The story is largely carried by the gravity of the event and the survivor’s response to it.