Alan Arkin's Whiskaboom (1955) opens not with a laboratory or a breakthrough, but with a landlord's complaint. The story is told entirely through a letter from Mr. Burroughs to a Mr. Gretch, detailing the disruptive behavior of the latter's son, Jack. This epistolary frame immediately establishes a tension between the ordinary—dry gardens, unpaid rent—and the extraordinary: a young man who has waited years to work on his own experiment. The catalog subjects list it as science fiction and epistolary fiction, and the excerpts bear this out: the narrative voice is that of a frustrated retiree, not a scientist, and the science itself remains unnamed and unseen.

The Landlord's Perspective

The story's point of view is its most distinctive feature. Mr. Burroughs writes with a practical, aggrieved tone: he and his wife are retired, their garden has done poorly, and they need the two weeks' rent Jack owes. He describes Jack's arrival with a mix of irritation and grudging observation. When Jack refuses help carrying his boxes, Mr. Burroughs notes the "wild look in his eye." The landlord's voice is colloquial and concrete—"I charged in, ready to fight a bear"—which grounds the speculative premise in everyday domestic friction. The reader learns about Jack only through this filter: his red hair, his youth, his admiration for Einstein, and his secretive hammering. The letter format means we never get Jack's own words or thoughts, only the landlord's interpretation.

The Unseen Experiment

Despite the catalog subject "Experiments -- Fiction," the excerpts reveal almost nothing about what Jack is actually building. Mr. Burroughs hears hammering, sees boxes, and is told that Jack has waited years for a chance to work without interference. The only clue to the experiment's nature is the story's opening line: "Jack's blunder was disastrous, but what he worried about was: would Einstein have approved?" This suggests a theoretical or moral dimension to the work, but the excerpts do not describe any apparatus, result, or even a name for the project. The experiment remains a blank space, defined only by its effects on the household—noise, secrecy, and unpaid rent. This gap between the catalog promise of "experiments" and the actual text's reticence is a key feature of the reading experience.

Character Through Dialogue and Detail

Jack Gretch is characterized almost entirely through reported speech and small actions. He pays a month's rent without looking at the room, refuses help, and works past midnight. When confronted, he admits he was rude but promises to apologize tomorrow. His age is given as twenty-six, though he looks like a teenager. His reverence for Einstein is mentioned twice: once by the narrator and once in the opening line. The landlord's wife, Mrs. Burroughs, is described as "a little nervous" about the experimenting. These details build a portrait of a single-minded, socially awkward young man, but the excerpts do not reveal his motives, his past, or the outcome of his work. The story's brevity (under 5,000 words) suggests that the experiment's revelation may be the climax, but the excerpts stop before any such disclosure.

Epistolary Structure and Unreliable Narration

The letter format imposes a specific rhythm: each paragraph reports an event or conversation, often with the landlord's editorializing. Mr. Burroughs admits he "got sore" and nearly broke the door down. He describes Jack's appearance as "skinny" and his look as "wild." The reader must weigh the landlord's reliability—he is clearly annoyed and financially strained. The story's humor may arise from the gap between Jack's possibly world-changing work and the landlord's mundane concerns. The catalog lists "Epistolary fiction" as a subject, and the excerpts confirm that the entire narrative is filtered through one character's letter, with no omniscient correction. This structural choice shapes every aspect of the story, from pacing to characterization.

Readers approaching Whiskaboom should attend to what the letter form conceals as much as what it reveals. The story's science fiction element is present only as a promise and a worry; the text itself is a domestic comedy of manners. Pay attention to the landlord's word choices and what they imply about his biases. The title itself—"Whiskaboom"—does not appear in the excerpts, leaving its meaning open. This is a story that rewards attention to voice and omission.