Just Another Macabre Monday (almost)

   

Earlier this year, The Library of America released an edition of Shirley Jackson's (pictured above) work, including novels and short stories.  I decided to re-read one of her most famous and controversial works, The Lottery.  This eerie short story was published to acclaim, shock, and uproar in the New Yorker in 1948.  The magazine received an influx of angry letters and many readers canceled their subscriptions.  Shirley Jackson (1916-1965), was a housewife and a mother to four children, and lived most of her life in Vermont.  This background would not necessarily appear to lend itself to the dark themes of her work.  Yet Jackson's stories are precise, measured, and chilling.  


The Lottery tells the story of a small village that has an annual ritual wherein all the townsfolk put their names in a black box.  One name is called and that person is doomed to a horrific fate.  While there have been many interpretations of this story, it seems to me it is about what defines a society, who is in power, and how to escape (or not be able to escape) the confines of oppressive and unjust social systems.  It reminded me of the premise of Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games and also of Ursula LeGuin's short story The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.  


In 2007, The Shirley Jackson Awards were established to pay homage to Jackson's unique and memorable writing, thus permanently securing her work in the American canon.  This literary award is given to authors who have written stand-out "literature of psychological suspense, horror, and the dark fantastic." 


Over this weekend, I also read Barbara Comyns' Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, an oddball allegorical tale published in 1955 about a river that floods a small English village and the literal madness that ensues (possibly as a result of the baker's rye bread).  Comyns was not only a writer but also a breeder of poodles and a renovator of pianos!  In this work, she explores the nuances of a motley family of three generations all living under the same roof.  The matriarchal and domineering Grandmother Willoweed attempts to rule the house as well as the village.  I imagine that these villagers may be similar to the ones that exist in Jackson's The Lottery.  Comyns writes "The madness, the madness, you couldn't get away from it." Each day in the lives of the Willoweeds is stranger than the next, with such occurrences including a day in which "Plates where thrown across the luncheon table and a tortoise through the window."  The tone of this book reminds me of the documentary "Grey Gardens," as there is something repulsive and tragic about many of the characters.  


Neither of these books provide comfort or uplift the spirits, but they are both compelling and likely like nothing you've ever read before.  

Ron Rash's Writing Burns Bright, Indeed

I learned of Ron Rash from reading the McLean and Eakin bookstore staff recommendations - thank you Jessilynn!  Rash does not disappoint.  In Saints at the River, a young girl drowns in a river in South Carolina, stirring up local debate about how to recover her body.  As an environmentally protected river, the law states that the riverbed shall not be altered in any way.  The possibility of erecting a temporary dam is proposed by the girl's family.  Maggie Glenn, a photographer who grew up in the area, is assigned to cover the story alongside journalist Allen Hemphill.  As Maggie returns to her hometown, she must confront her troubled relationship with her father.   Throughout the book, the river rushes forward and is impossible to tame, proving that there are some things that are better left wild and unbridled.  

Burning Bright is a collection of stories that focuses on the hardscrabble life in Appalachia.  Straight out of the gate, Rash's first story is shocking in its starkness and depiction of the depths of poverty.  Some of his stories are merely ten pages long, yet still he packs a punch and engages you in the characters' lives from the first few sentences.  

Neither of these books were uplifting with tidy endings.  But the honest, unflinching look at the maelstrom of human emotion, desperation, conviction, and struggle is captured in deceptively simple and beautiful language in both works.

  

Review: The Imperfectionists

Tom Rachman's debut novel The Imperfectionists was a page-turning, witty, smart book told in vignettes.  Each chapter centers around someone involved with an international English-language newspaper published in Rome.  From the feisty editor-in-chief, to the enamored business reporter, to the gullible stringer, each story stands alone though some of the characters from other vignettes weave in and out of the chapters.  While nothing deeply profound happens, the snippets of the day-to-day lives that we are privy to are entertaining and unique.  This is a book that can be read in just a few sittings.  While not necessarily a memorable or stand-out novel, I appreciated the humorous dialogue and motley cast of characters.

A Southern Classic: The Optimist's Daughter

Eudora Welty is one of the most admired writers who wrote about the American South.  The Optimist's Daughter won her the Pulitzer Prize in 1973.  This short novel tells the story of Laura McKelva Hand who grows up in the South but then leaves to pursue a career in Chicago.  Her ailing father Judge McKelva is suffering from an eye "disturbance," so she comes to be by his side in New Orleans.  After an outrageous display of behavior by Laura's exasperating stepmother Fay (who comments upon learning of the Judge's ailments, "I don't see why this had to happen to me"), Judge McKelva passes away.  Laura then returns to her childhood home in Mississippi for the funeral.  While there, she comes to a deeper understanding of her family and her upbringing.  


The dialogue is, at times, quite funny.  Perhaps my favorite line is when Dr. Courtland, a good friend of the Judge's who performed the eye operation, comments that while it may seem like the Judge is asleep, "he's just possuming."  The novel takes a more serious and contemplative turn when Laurel returns home and eventually confronts Fay.  I enjoyed this novel, but not enough to read more of Welty's books in the immediate.  However, I am going to seek out more novels featuring the South.

Review: The Quickening

"What I wanted felt like a hunger, rising from my ribs, my throat, starved for something immense, golden," writes Michelle Hoover in The Quickening.  Hoover's debut novel is a beautiful written book that follows the lives of Mary and Enidina who live on neighboring farms during the early 1900s.   As with most books I've read this year, this is a book with both tragedy and heartbreak.  Hoover's writing reminded me of Marilynne Robinson, but with grittier detail and a more character-driven story line.  


Hoover's narrative voice is distinctive and she writes with a subtle smolder.  Some of the sentences are crafted to perfection.  Nonetheless, if I were to recommend books about hardscrabble farm life, I would give Amy Greene's Bloodroot and Kent Haruf's Plainsong even higher praise.   

Review: The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games is a science fiction novel for young adults and adults alike.  It tells the story of a post-apocalyptic country known as Panem, which has a central, ruling Capitol and twelve outlying districts.  The districts exist mainly to provide their goods to the wealthy Capitol.  Each year, as penance for an unsuccessful rebellion by a district against the Capitol and as a reminder to attempt nothing of the sort again, the powers that be hold the annual Hunger Games.  A boy and a girl from each district (known as "tributes") are selected at random to fight to the death, until they are the last one standing.  The only rule for the annual games is, simply, to stay alive.  Katniss Everdeen is this year's district 12 girl tribute and in many ways the odds are against her.  She is from the poorest district in the country, and isn't as big or well-fed as the other tributes.  But having grown up as the provider for her family after her father died in a mining accident, she has honed her survival skills.  The tributes must battle against each other, but the deeper battle is to not allow the Capitol to take away one's humanity and kindness.  


I found this to be a disturbing and gruesome tale.  It was interesting to read about how the tributes handled this unfathomable situation, and of course, to learn the outcome.  I also appreciated a strong and resourceful female protagonist, as these are not often found in young adult novels.  While The Hunger Games was page-turning and inventive, as well as an unabashed social commentary, I found it too bleak to want to read the subsequent books in the trilogy.  

An Allendean Tale: Island Beneath the Sea

  

I remember the first time I read an Allende novel - The House of the Spirits.  I loved that book for its sweeping story line and multitude of characters couched within the style of magic realism.

It is interesting to have read The House of the Spirits, Allende's first novel written in 1982, and now Island Beneath the Sea, written over 25 years later.  Both books are written in Allende's trademark style characterized by lush descriptions, epic timeframes, a focus on history and place, and even a requisite "madwoman."

Island Beneath the Sea marks a departure for Allende, as a work of historical fiction set in Saint Domingue (present-day Haiti) and New Orleans in the late 18th century.  The novel tells the story of Zarite (known as Tete), a biracial slave who is purchased by Toulouse Valmorain, a French plantation owner.  

Ultimately, I appreciate Allende's work, as many of her stories feature female protagonists, thus giving voice to perspectives that have often gone unspoken or unheard.  In this book, I found the descriptions to be too flowery and long, and I found myself skimming over some sections.  I also did not feel that the historical information was woven seamlessly into the novel.

Allende is a treasure, but I would recommend her earlier works instead of her latest novel.  Try The House of the Spirits or Daughter of Fortune.