Short stories, and Kafka

I've been reading a lot of short stories these past few weeks--the new Ploughshares (with a  fantastic essay by Maine author Sarah Braunstein) as well as the new Glimmer Train. I love short stories because the time commitment is often small but the emotional payoff is usually really big. And, what really gets me is that often I read a story and I don't like it--sometimes I even hate it--but then, the characters hang around in my head, or the ending--that perplexing, convoluted ending!--keeps coming back to me. And the more I puzzle it out, the more I start to like it and even, in some cases, to emulate it in my own writing. Which raises the question--do we have to like a story for it to be good? Isn't the job of writing to raise questions, challenge ideas, make the reader (and maybe the writer) a little uncomfortable? In truth, I think sometimes my intial dislike is really discomfort and I have to give myself time and space to think about the why and maybe turn it around a little.

Speaking of things not liked on first glance, this afternoon on the way home I heard a story on NPR about Kafka. The story was about his papers, and who "owns" them, and what should be done with them. But it made me think about reading The Trial for AP English. Not only reading it, but my friend and I had to team teach it. The first time I picked up that slim little volume, I thought easy. And then. So, not so easy. But that book changed everything for me. What do you mean you don't have to give a character a full name? Obscurity? Disorder? The feeling of the book being put together out of orderI remember sitting at my dining room table and crying as I was trying to piece the thing out. But then, once I had it, once I understood it, it was like I'd found something no one else knew about. And I knew that was how I wanted to write (I'm still working on exactly how to do that). And then, when I learned Kafka had wanted all his papers burned upon his death, I felt a spark of something else--maybe, as writers, we don't even have to know we're good.  

Antarctica

Oh, boy. I do love it when someone (my dear Librarian friend Kathleen) puts a book in my hands and says "I think you'll love this." Even better when I do. Antarctica is a collection of stories by Irish author Claire Keegan. It isn't new, but I'd never heard of Keegan before. I'm so glad I have now!

These stories are not for the faint of heart. When suggested by Kathleen, she likened it to Kissing in Manhattan, a very dark and strange collection of stories which I loved, but I've found few other people who feel the same. In Antarctica, I especially loved the first and title story but there are other gems in this collection that kept me awake at night, made me scribble ideas on pieces of paper while I drove (I know, but I was careful and I'm afraid I'll forget!), and made me gasp. Some of the stories made me pause, and turn things over in my mind, and consider if I liked them or not---but then, is it necessary to like a story for it to be good? If the characters stay with you (and stay they will), isn't that a sign of a really good story? Even more wondrous for me was that some of the stories were not new (although the argument can me made that there are no new stories). For example, the beautiful sister with the long hair coming home, ungrateful and unwelcomed by her less attractive, harder-working sister--I won't spoil the end, but I saw it coming a mile away. And I feel like I shouldn't like a story that doesn't surprise me...but, then, Keegan writes in a way that is uniquely captivating and that ugly sister has really lingered in my head.

The only bad thing I will say about this collection is that some of the dialogue, especially for the stories set here in the United States, felt a little forced, a little contrived. Like me trying to do an Irish accent. But maybe I was looking for that, I can't say for sure. All I know is that I'm going to be requesting Keegan's Walk the Blue Fields and keeping my eyes out for anything else by her.

The Lieutenant

Even though I only skimmed it for my Saturday book club, I was reminded of how fabulous Kate Grenville's The Lieutenant was (I read it fully a few months ago). Grenville, also the author of the similarly-set The Secret River, is extraordinary at placing us in newly-settled Australia. Slowly, but with the sense of a timely unfolding, no rushing, this story takes the reader into the life of Astronomer Daniel Rooke. Rooke is initially hoping to find Haley's Comet but instead he finds a link to humanity--his own and others'--through language. Grenville does a masterful job of underplaying tension so that it builds and builds. She doesn't over-sentimentalize the brutality of the soldiers, or Rooke's friendships, and Rooke's courage is not of a super-hero variety, nor are the others completely one-dimensional. The book is quiet, and the protagonist is quiet, but if you take the time, you will not be sorry. Everyone in the book club loved it, and I think that's a first.

In addition to the two above-mentioned books, Grenville is also the author of The Idea of Perfection, which I also really enjoyed but which, if you read without knowing the author, you would never suspect it had been written by the same. The Idea of Perfection is filled with quirky characters doing odd-ball things, and really running amok through the story. It's a completely different subject matter, not historical at all, and not really something you'd want to give as a Father's Day gift. My mother hated it. I loved it...but then, I really like strange people doing strange things.

I know some people like an author to stick to one genre--they want a story to be what they expect it to be. But I like to see an author with range. It keeps things interesting, as far as I'm concerned.

A Prayer for Owen Meany, etc.

How is it that I've never read John Irving's A Prayer for Owen Meany? I've read other Irving, and loved most of it (I have a thing about lost limbs and Irving seems, at times, to taunt me with this), but I'd somehow missed this heartbreaking and beautiful masterpiece. And I'm only halfway through it!

I've been trolling around the Goodreads.com website, which is how I came to discover that A Prayer for Owen Meany was one of the 1001 books I should read before I die, or something like that. There were at least a hundred books on the list that I'd never even heard of, never mind read. (did I mention I used to own a bookstore?) Sometimes I think people are making up titles. That said, there are gaps in my reading I intend to fill. What should be next? War and Peace? Virginia Wolfe? I know, I know. I'm working on it.

This past week I also polished off Deborah Crombie's Where Memories Lie. Sometimes, when you're waiting around in a hospital as I was, you need something easy on the brain, which this was. Plus, unlike a lot of literature I love, these light mysteries don't send my emotions ping-ponging all over the place. It's a solid mystery with developed characters, a sense of place, and an interesting plot. I once read an interview with Joyce Carol Oates, whom I deeply admire, in which she said she never has a wasted moment. Meaning she never watches bad TV, or reads anything fluffy. I do wish I could be that disciplined (I also wish I could resist sweets and bread) but honestly, sometimes I just need to give myself a break. Sometimes I need to watch awful TV, and read for the pure pleasure of the story, and put on the radio and dance around to songs about brushing teeth with a bottle of Jack.

Balance, I say. That's what I'm aiming for!

What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank

Last night I finished Nathan Englander's What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank and I loved, loved, loved it. I'm a huge fan of stories anyway (not that I don't love the novel as well) and these beautifully crafted, deeply moving and somewhat (sometimes more than somewhat) disturbing stories are right up my alley. This would be a great book club selection (if you have an open-minded book club) because there is SO MUCH to talk about. Each story is so perfectly done, so completely of itself, so full of memorable characters and scenes...My favorite, or, the story that will stay with me the longest, is Camp Sundown. The mild setting, the guilelessness of the young main character, the dead-on hysterical way the old folks talk...and, then, we know it's coming, we fear it's coming, we're told it's coming, but still the end is a surprise. Still I'm turning this story over in my head, both for the content (how can Englander get away with writing such a thing?) and for its form.

I loved the collection although I have a feeling there will be people who feel strongly the opposite, and I'd love to hear any and all thoughts!

When I'm Not Reading...

As many of you know, when I'm not reading, I'm writing. And, because several of you have asked, here's a link to my 2nd place Family Circle Fiction Contest Story: http://www.familycircle.com/family-fun/fiction/fiction-contest-winners-2010/ I love this story, which is not something I always say years (or even minutes) after I've written something, so I'm happy it found a home. Before Family Circle, it was submitted and rejected many times (nine, to be exact--I keep track). I say this as a way to encourage those of you who may be discouraged writers (myself, at times, included).

Other stuff besides books

When I don't have my nose stuck in a book, I have it stuck in some other reading material. I used to joke that I'd read anything that stands still long enough. And it was only a little bit of a joke. I read other blogs, websites of authors I love (especially Monica Wood and Ann Hood), magazines (Family Circle, Good Housekeeping), Literary magazines (Glimmer Train, The Sun, Ploughshares), online literary magazines (The Literarian, Narrative, Five Chapters), articles about writing, the Maine Sunday Telegram, the Bridgton News, cereal boxes (the backs and the sides)...This week, I have been obsessed with NPR's three minute fiction. Maybe because I submitted a story of my own for the first time (to NPR, I mean, not ever), or maybe just because I feel a little out of sorts this week and short pieces are about all I can handle...but whatever the reason I've been trolling the NPR website ferociously. Some of the stories I really like (Exit and Heavy are my current favs) and some not so much. I also love reading the comments...not just because I'm voyeuristic (which I am) but because I like the way sometimes people say things that make me think of something in a new way. And isn't that what living life with an open mind is all about? Check it out here:
http://www.npr.org/series/105660765/three-minute-fiction

I also just read Caitlin Shetterly's piece in the Times about her dream house with John Taylor from Duran Duran: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/15/garden/caitlin-shetterly-drawing-on-inspiration.html?pagewanted=all. I have to say, the more I read of Cait's work, the more I'm a fan. Maybe because she and I are about the same age, this piece really brought me back. I was (and still am) a Bon Jovi fan and I had a life-sized poster of Jon Bon Jovi on the outside of my bedroom door, and a life-sized poster of Richie Sambora on the inside of the door. I never dreamt about marrying either of them (I just wanted to date them both and have them bring me flowers and buy me dinner) because I thought I'd be like my mom's cool friend Gretchen and stay single and childless forever and wear awesome colorful skirts and drink wine. And then, Life has a way of taking you places you never thought you'd go--and then making you realize how grateful you are it turned out the way you didn't plan. :) (at least for me that's what happened)