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As the title suggests, this story’s premise centers around the narrator’s decision to find out who he really is. The narrator himself is presented as a metaphor for the converse of the title, unnamed, and generally impersonalized.
While I appreciate the ingenuity of the metaphoric presentation, I believe it’s taken too far, especially considering the first-person narration. As a reader, my connection with the narrator was minimal, at best. I didn’t feel anything for him. He just seems to drift through his story, until the end, when he makes his decision to “be” himself—whoever that is.
His friend Brent, however, is nicely delivered. For all of his superficialities, he’s more than just a shadow. And this is where I think the primary key to improvement lies: While the narrator might not really know himself throughout much of the story, he knows Brent. A good way to give the narrator the personalization he needs (to form the necessary connection with readers) and still manage the wonderful idea of the metaphor might be to allow us to see more of what the narrator feels about Brent. Brent, who’s background is very similar to the narrator’s; who ended up in the same place in life; who’s actively trying to make the narrator a carbon copy of himself—a partner in the lie. I recommend allowing the narrator to think and emote about Brent and who Brent is more, giving the reader peaks at who the narrator really is, even if he doesn’t obviously see it himself.
The pace of the story is sluggish. It’s filled with long and obtrusive bits of trivial history, that have little bearing on the plot. Cigarettes, for example. Much time is spent lamenting on the habit of smoking—something that holds some significance for the narrator, but that significance is never really fully explored—mostly due to lack of the narrator’s characterization. I believe the symbolism cigarettes hold for the narrator is that they connect him to his existence at the factory, and when he gives them away at the end, it’s supposed to symbolize his decision to move on from that aspect of his life (meaning the factory)—but because we spend so little time in the narrator’s personal mind, because we have no indication how he really “feels” about the factory, other than that he seems to be comfortable (if not a bit bored) there, the symbolism of the smokes doesn’t pack quite the punch as maybe it should.
The factory is another good example. Many, many words focus on the manufactured product: lids. While knowing specifically what the narrator produces at work gives a nice sense of realism, the lids really have no other function. Better to spend those words characterizing the narrator.
The plot centers around the narrator’s relationship with Brent, his relationship with himself (a man he doesn’t know), and the life they make up for themselves on the weekends—the lie they live for. I think, overall, more focus should be placed on how the narrator perceives and feels about these relationships, and the lie, and less focus spent on the drawling drone of life at the factory.
Repetition—while it’s apparently a theme of the story, it shouldn’t be a theme of the writing itself. Throughout the story, descriptions are repeated unnecessarily. For example, as the narrator talks about the couples on the street, he gives four descriptions of the way they walk. One is sufficient. More does nothing but bog the story’s pace.
Semantics:
More attention needs to be paid to paragraph structure. Begin a new paragraph any time there is a change of subject, focus, or unrelated action. Begin a new paragraph whenever the focus swings from one character to another.
Wordiness—aside from the before mentioned repetition, the story would benefit from an overall tightening of sentences. I’ve included some examples from the story, along with some other observations:
It was a variation on a theme using material he had gleaned from the national papers or from any one of Grisholm's novels.
Do you mean Grisham’s novels?
Brent had a way of almost always ending his sentences with a question.
I like this bit of characterization. I’d suggest tightening the sentence a bit, though: Brent almost always ended his sentences with a question.
. . .What if'", he paused and flashed a quick look at me. Imperceptible to anyone not ready, but I knew it was coming. It was the final cast into the pond. The cast that would net his prey. He turned his gaze toward Angela. For effect he whispered, "'What if it was you . . .
This is the middle of a fairly long paragraph. I targeted this mid-section because it could use some tightening. Example: . . .he paused and flashed a quick look at me, signaling his final cast into the pond. The cast that would net his prey.
A new paragraph should start with ‘He turned his gaze toward Angela’
Brent's recitation of an ending of a Law and Order episode that he had recently watched was flawless.
More tightening. Suggest: Brent’s recitation of last week’s Law and Order episode was flawless.
It was obvious, in fact, that she enjoyed Brent's ending. It was cool. Good triumphing over evil and all that. The brief silence that followed, Brent and Angela peering into each other's eyes, was my cue and my chance to escape the table. I took the opportunity to venture outside. The air was cool and refreshing, autumnal clear. Time to ruin that. I lit up a cigarette and took a deep pull dragging warm happiness into my lungs.
This is another portion of a goodish-sized paragraph, and could use a good trimming. ‘in fact’’s are always a signal of wordiness. Suggest: She obviously enjoyed Brent’s ending. Good triumphing over evil, and all that.
New Paragraph.
The silence that followed (he leaves—how does he know it’s brief?), Brent and Angela peering into each other’s eyes, was my cue and my chance to escape the table. I ventured outside (no need to state ‘I took the opportunity’ –it’s obvious). The air was cool and refreshing. Autumnal clear. I lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. (I understand there’s a good reason this character smokes—it comes back into play again as a bit of symbolization. However, emphasizing the act with contradicting statements (‘time to ‘ruin’ that’; ‘warm happiness’) doesn’t seem to do much but slow your pace at this point.)
Friday nights in Chicago in the fall, there's no place better. I leaned against the club's wall and watched couples brush past me on their way to wherever. None of them were in a hurry but none of them were really lagging. All of the couples walked with a similarly determined but leisurely gait. They had somewhere to go but not somewhere they had to go. They existed in this moment for the pleasure of each other's company. I, leaning against the wall of a nightclub I couldn't afford to be in, overshadowed by the presence of downtown and its majestic buildings, did nothing but interrupt the couple's passage through the area. My smoke, billowing out of me at regular intervals, would reach out to these strangers. The usually omnipresent wind was nowhere to be found tonight, unable to carry away my exhaust. These passersby, offended at being poisoned and taken out of their dream state, cast sharp glances at me, briefly quickening their pace to avoid even the tiniest of contact with the offending wisp. There was a time when smoking was considered sophisticated. Now, the smoker is nothing more than a leper or a carrier of some unknown yet highly contagious disease to be avoided at all costs. Except, that is, in the factory.
Take a long look at this paragraph. What’s its primary purpose? I’d say it’s to transport the reader from the present moment and into the narrator’s history, using cigarette smoke as the conduit. A good choice. And the symbolism of the couples, is a good choice too—their reality in opposition to what’s going on with Brent in the bar. But you need to make this slide as slick and smooth as possible. Rid it of its unnecessary reiteration. For example: None of them were in a hurry but none of them were really lagging. All of the couples walked with a similarly determined but leisurely gait. They had somewhere to go but not somewhere they had to go. They existed in this moment for the pleasure of each other's company. All of this basically says the same thing: these are people out, simply enjoying themselves. Show it once, and move on.
Here’s a suggestion for this graph: It was Friday night in Chicago, and the sidewalk was alive with happy couples, enjoying each other as they strolled from one bar to the next. I leaned back against the wall of the club, trying to be unobtrusive, but my smoke billowed, drawing offended glances. I remembered a time when smoking was considered sophisticated. Now I was a social leper, my habit welcomed nowhere except in the factory, where I worked.
Once the process ended it started again. Our goal, to be faster and faster. Repetition, the key to our success. The machine, loud, pulsating, never stopping (at least never supposed to stop), creating lid after lid. Repetition, the key to our success, loading, packing, stacking, and loading, packing, and stacking again. Faster and faster, focusing, starting the process again. For twelve hours, this is our life, our routine.
So much repetition is overbearing, and the key to slowing the pace of both this paragraph, and the story.
One more suggestion: The narrator is never named—and I appreciate that’s due to the metaphor, which I like bunches. But you might consider naming him at the end of the story, after he has his revelation. Perhaps he gives his name to the woman along with his cigarettes. I think doing so would give the ending, and his decision, more meaning and emphasis.
I hope that you find this critique of some help. Best of luck with the story, and thanks so much for posting.
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. Then, in paragraph 4, she’s once again reflecting on what she’s written in the diary. Honestly, I think that you could alleviate confusion and greatly improve the flow of the story by forgoing the attempt to surprise the reader with what she’s done. Example: Immediately after she’d killed him she had a fit . . . stating this outright puts the reader immediately in the stream of her thoughts, and requires no catching-up. There’s no need for a surprise element in this story (in my opinion). The real darkness/shock lies not in what she’s done (which is, dark, granted), but in what she is. 
), it’s always a great boost to feel appreciated by someone—even if it isn’t always the author you’ve reviewed 
.
). That said, I strongly urge that you keep tense. Yes, rules are made to be broken, but that artistic license plea only works when the rules are broken for effect or emphasis, and I’m not seeing a strong need for either in the manner or the places that you break them, and I didn’t think it was done smoothly or effectively—my opinion, of course. For this story, I’d recommend that you at least stick to one tense per story section.