Risk Rewarded

Rachel Sherman's recently published story collection The First Hurt has already been extensively reviewed by a bunch of others so I won't go too deep with my analysis. From a writer's perspective this is a great collection to read because it shows another writer taking a lot of risks. Want to know how to get off the well-trodden path? Well, Sherman shows you how. Virtually every story features characters engaging in risky behavior: sometimes the danger is aimed at the character's emotional vulnerability, but other times the behavior is physically dangerous or taboo. I think the mixture of danger and vulnerability is what sets this story collection apart. The stories remind me a bit of A. M. Homes and Mary Gaitskill (good company to keep), but Sherman puts her own spin on things.

Here's a brief comment on each of the stories in the collection:

In "The Reaper" Beth exchanges letters with a soldier. I loved the danger in this story as THE REAPER appears in the letters:

THIS IS THE REAPER! WHEN I AM BORED I MASTURBATE AND THINK ABOUT YOU. BELOW IS A LIST OF QUESTIONS. YOU MUST ANSWER THEM ALL

This story, with its strong mixture of aggression and vulnerability, is a great way to kick-off the collection.

"Two Stories; Single Family; Scenic View" is a Carver-esqe story of not so domestic bliss where meeting the neighbors is fraught with possibilities, some realized, some not, but the edge of the precipice is one look or comment or touch away. (This story is available online so I may come back and take a longer look at in a later post.)

The title story "The First Hurt" fully develops the primary themes that permeate the collection: The damaged body and the pain and vulnerability felt by those in possession of the damaged goods.

"Homestay" was one of my favorites because of the experimental structure and multiple points of view. The story emerges from the parts, each of which is a set piece.

"Keeping Time" is in some ways the most conventional story in the collection, but once again Sherman mingles vulnerability and danger as she explores love affairs and crushes at a summer camp.

"Proof" is another story that uses unconventional structure. This time embedding a second story within the narrative without resorting to a frame. More insecurity and vulnerability and searching for trouble where none exists.

"Set Man" starts out as one kind of story, then morphs into another, but never really finds its home. Also, way too many names, and, to make things worse, they were confusingly managed. A character or two could have been cut to great advantage.

Another story that didn't work for me was "Tag Sale." It has the creep factor as Robin goes back after the old boy and hops into the car with him for a potentially dangerous journey, but that seemed to be the only point; filling the hole within with dangerous behavior.

With "The Neutered Bulldog" Sherman is back in high gear right from the first sentence: "When my teacher began her affair, she told me about it on the rug where it had happened." Not shirking from controversy, Sherman gives us the the teacher-student sex taboo. Great surprise ending in this one.

In "Jewish Hair" we have fear and loathing and lust with the meat cutter. Ida, another face picker, lures Kenny&mdash"the man wore a butcher's bloody apron and a tight T-shirt . . . Kenny's armpits were half yellow from old sweat and half gray from new"—and gives herself first to his tongue, then his fingers, and then, well you get the idea. This final story of the collection takes the body issues and dangerous sex themes and amplifies them to eleven.

Smoke Signals

The smoke still hasn't cleared from all the fine flash fictions in Issue 13 of SmokeLong Quarterly. I've been enjoying these pieces since the issue came out but thought I'd wait until the Sarcastic FringeHead finished her entertaining reviews of all the stories. Excellent stuff. Go read them if you haven't already.

Issue 13 was guest edited by Katrina Denza, so read the interview with her, too. (And be sure to check out her story "Here's My Hand, Take It" in Storyglossia Issue 13.)

Some thoughts from my reading . . .

Jennifer A. Howard's "Real Estate" has a great opening first sentence: "The house Ella grew up in had a door that went nowhere." How do you not keep reading? My favorite part of this story, though, is this:

Ella’s husband follows behind today, neither his face nor his voice reaching the camera. Except for a jump in the video when he rests his hand on her shoulder and Ella flinches, there will be no record that he was ever here.

I really didn't need to read the rest (although I did) because these two sentences took me everywhere I needed to go.

"Memory of Sky" by Jai Claire strikes me as more of a prose poem than story, but I liked the language, the repetitions, the alliteration, and the Beowulfian compound nouns. (Check out Jai's story "A Burial" in Storyglossia Issue 14.)

The big pile of nouns in Steve Cushman's "Bingham" was fun; this kind of writing gets me thinking about some of DeLillo's stuff and Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried."

Two things, okay three, if you count the cool series in the first sentence, excited me about Lisa K. Buchanan's "See Odi Naked:" verb-like adjectives such as chesty and tattery; and the narrator's meal—"eggplant panini and baby lettuces with pear-almond vinaigrette"—which instantly characterizes.

Reading David Erlewine's "The Table" made me wish non-stutterers could be in one of those moments just once. He captures the deterioration towards paralyzed speech quite well. These lines: "His older brother used to count his stutters at dinner and then before bed make him do three push ups for each one. Now, they only e-mail," on first read set off the heartbreak buzzer, but on later reads I wonder if they are too calculated.

"It was an accident. That's the first thing I need to say. I'm a fuckup, not a killer, but that doesn't change what happened that night." This strong opening from Jeff Landon's "Emily Avenue" really hooked me. The drugged behavior post-accident and the rationalizations seemed real. I'm troubled by the lack of remorse, but probably would have disliked it if it had been there. More great lines here: "You only think about the people you love or hate, and everyone else is just scenery. They're just people eating food in a mall or walking out of the movies."

In "Miracle," Chad Simpson puts a new spin on the chalk outline with the great image of teeth tearing at masking tape. The narrator wishing he could join the scene but not doing so is the story moment.

If I could have my flash only one way, I'd want it to be disturbing, so Joseph Young's "Randomization," even though I don't know what the hell is going on, is perfect.

Great work by all the writers—you're a tough act to follow. Kudos and thanks to the crew for another smokin' issue.