Zombies are True

 Book Review… 

Link, Kelly. Magic for Beginners. Orlando: Harvest Books, 2006. 

The nine stories in Kelly Link’s second collection are fantastic, meaning incredibly good and also containing elements of fantasy.  They are innovative and down to earth, about people, the things people do and feel. Some of the most sparkling gems in this collection are “The Faery Handbag,” “The Hortlak” (my favorite), “Stone Animals,” and “Magic for Beginners.” The collection does not ostentatiously defy genre, but perhaps simply disregards the literary market’s desire for such superficial distinctions.  Link’s style is confident and innovative, borrowing from various traditions, most notably fantasy, horror, and fairy tale—humbling and improbable vestiges of life, worlds that exist only between the covers of the book.  But don’t all fictive worlds only exist in this capacity? 

Link achieves the nearness and reality of the world by oscillating between the ultimately fantastic and the simple basic truth of human reaction and interaction, what is and what is not.  In Link’s work, zombies exist as incidental, assimilated, mythic, harmless, feared, fictive, and real.  Zombies, like haunted objects and animated cats, can be considered in their relation to action, to private thought, to the larger continuing world.  In “The Faery Handbag,” as well as other tales in this collection, the shocking, inventive, and unfamiliar are crafted with beauty and a sensitivity to human interaction—attention to a character’s inner world as well as the outer.  These crossings of people, in and out of each other’s minds and physical worlds, is what is real.  In “Stone Animals,” Link explores this human interaction in a haunted, mysterious setting.  The plot folds in on itself in repetition, similar to how time and interaction repeatedly fold in and out for the characters.   

A reader of literary fiction may look askance at Link’s work, what has been called fantastic or fabulist, and wish to pass preliminary judgment based on preconceived notions of reality.  But there are often opposite ways of getting at the truth, and in Magic for Beginners Link has bravely forged her own path, a path any open reader will be drawn through, surprised by, pleased by, amazed by, and ultimately affected by.

Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth, by Chris Ware. I’m embarrassed to say this is the first graphic novel I’ve read. (Hangs head in shame.) I also picked up a copy of Ghost World, which was recommended to me in reference to the novel I’m revising.  Jimmy Corrigan is a huge doorstop, while Ghost World is a thin book.  I have to admit I’m confused about several things in Jimmy Corrigan…but I’m holding on, reserving judgment.  It’s pretty damn funny.

Tracks, by Louise Erdrich.  I’m deconstructing this book in terms of craft, for a presentation in one of my classes.  I’ve found myself picking through old essays I’ve read from guys like Gardner, Booth, and Baxter.  Excited yet?

The Golden Apples, by Eudora Welty.  This might be my favorite  collection of Welty’s that I’ve read so far.  The names in these stories are great–I have a list of recurring names and phrases to Google…to try and find any juicy connections.  “June Recital” captures the particular mood of adolescence well.

 All of the above books are coursework.  I’ve also started Stray, which is enthralling, but I’ve set it aside until I can curl up and be in that relaxed place where I don’t have any bizarre study-related thoughts like, this is what Gardner meant about ‘delay,’ or whatever.

 On the coffee table: the latest issues of Marie Claire, The Atlantic, and Bookmarks.

Tangent: not a book but definitely a narrative, I started playing Indigo Prophecy, which is perhaps the most intriguing video game I’ve ever played.  It’s a first person narrative where you’re running from the authorities while also trying to figure out what actually happened to bring you to that point; there’s a psychological element.  Every single action or inaction you take has a mental toll–you have to keep an eye on your anxiety and depression, as well as physical health….if you go about things the wrong way you can lose the game by driving yourself to commit suicide.  So, you have to be sure to play that iPod and eat some good food while you’re running from the law and investigating a conspiracy

There is an interview with Heidi Julavits up at Bookslut.  I think I mentioned this before, but her second novel, The Effect of Living Backwards, was one of my favorite books of last year.  Her third novel, The Uses of Enchantment, also came out in October of last year.  In addition to writing fiction, Julavits edits The Believer.

From the last week or two:

V., Thomas Pynchon.  A great book.  But I wish I had more time to absorb it, as I left it all to this weekend .  I could spend weeks dissecting this text.  Having not read much (it’s been years) Pynchon I expected this to be weirder than it was.  It was really not that hard to read or incomprehensible or anything like that that people seem to say.  Of course, V. came out in 1961.  The ideas and techniques in V. have since then trickled down into plenty of contemporary fiction–I found myself reminded of all sorts of things (produced later than V.) while reading it, which is the mark of an icon.  Finally, I’ve met the character Benny Profane, after being introduced (a la Tin House) to the pornographer who adopted the same name. 

The Robber BrideGroom, Eudora Welty.  This was a fun little slap-stick, fairy tale type novel, a novella really. It was hard to get into given the antiquated style, so it’s a good length at 88 pages.  Later this term I’ll be scouring this text for the influence of Robert Coate’s The Outlaw Years on Welty.

A Curtain of Green, Eudora Welty.  This is a fantastic story collection including such famous stories as “Death of a Traveling Salesman,” “Petrified Man,” and “Why I Live at the P.O.”

The Ecstatic, Victor LaValle.  This is a voice driven first-person adventure.  The inside cover calls it a comic picaresque but I’ve also looked at it in terms of the gothic novel.  It’s a strange little product, completely insular, the crazy (or not?) narrator, Anthony, explains the world in a compelling, entertaining way.  A mash up of 39 odd chapters exploring mental illness, domestic violence, eating disorders, beauty pageants, and the seriously weird, The Ecstatic is an enjoyable read.  It’s one of those books that feels like a whole ball of yarn unwound and knotted up.  There is no nice braid here, but strings trailing off at every angle.  Enjoy the ride, but don’t look for answers (or serious questions).

All the King’s Men, Robert Penn Warren.  This is simply an awesome book.  A true classic, but contemporary, on the cusp.  We have the accordingly flawed first-person narrator, Jack Burden, and we also have a believable array of other characters.  The plot is juicy.  And Jack, the misguided philosopher, historiographer, talker, maker of deals, gives us more meat than could be expected for a ‘political novel.’  And the prose and imagery is incredible, daring.

Reading right now: The Wide Net and Other Stories (Eudora Welty), The Devil’s Larder (Jim Crace)…

The weather here is static: cold, cold, cold.  I haven’t seen the sun in days, although there’s actually blue in the sky this morning.  It’s been a perpetual white ceiling of clouds, smog, sagging precipitation.  The white fog puts a drag on the day, gives an inevitable feel to wakefulness and sleepfulness; days, evenings, and nights tick away in an unconsequential fashion, but definitively (if blandly) nonetheless. The opening story of Tin House #30, Stuart Dybek’s “The Start of Something,” is both playful and sombre in its mood to capture this ticking and churning of time.  It’s a beautiful little piece trying to hone out the beginnings and ends of things; it might be a short short, only about 3 full pages. Also in this issue is an essay by Anthony Doerr titled “We are Mapmakers,” Time and space are no obstacle: around the earth with the stories of Alice Munro. I’m looking forward to it; I love Munro, and time and space are indeed two of the first concepts (second and third to humanity) that I think of when I think of Munro. Most of the issue looks really good, but I spotted on item that made me say, eh, really? Steve Almond has a piece in this issue called “Condifreaks Speak: A Hate Mail Colloquy.” Now, I love Steve Almond’s work, and he seems like a pretty cool guy. But this piece is him replying to hate mail he received after publicly resigning from Boston College when Condoleeza Rice was invited to be the commencement speaker. I just thought I’d never have to hear about the Boston College thing again. I mean, really. It was a public gesture that made a bit of a splash, but hasn’t the water stilled? Anyway, it looks like a good issuse of Tin House.

First, let me say I loved The Virgin Suicides (Jeffrey Eugenides). I did.  The characters, the setting, the innovations in the narration, all impressed and moved me.  I could go on and on about the narrative techniques–the collective retrospective point of view, the compiling of exhibits and interviews, the foregrounding of the inevitability of the plot–but, praise is less interesting than highlighting the negative; just kidding (but it probably is true)…

Maybe I’ve been reading too much theory, but I’d argue that Eugenides moves from having the narrator simply explore ontological questions in light of the Lisbon tragedy to having the narrator actually make an ontological determination about the nature of the being of the sisters, the nature of the being of suicide.  This change in authority, this brandishing of absolutism, comes at the beginning of the last paragraph. The last one:

But this is all chasing after the wind. The essence of the suicides consisted not of sadness or mystery but simple selfishness.  The girls took into their hands decisions better left to God.

What a stupid thing to say. It’s hard to explain how pissed off I was after reading those three sentences. Obviously I was invested greatly up until that point.

It’s possible this is the determination these men must make (the collective pov) to heal themselves, to get over their adolescence, but despite the position of the narrator(s) (procurers of all things Lisbon, interviewers, observers, etc.), the narrator hasn’t earned the right to make that claim–it doesn’t fit the book, and the book doesn’t ask for an answer, demand it. Sure, questions of being can be directly raised throughout the story, but the blanket determination doesn’t fit and isn’t necessary for the closure of the narrative. I was in love with this story until that last paragraph, when I was booted out of the narrative.

In this instance, the collective narrator oversteps its abilities with this claim; also, it is a selfish claim in itself, formulated to help the obsessed, injured, and seeking feel better. Perhaps these grown men, the mysterious “us” and “we,” do come to this conclusion. Well, it’s lame. Traditionally, it’s human nature to crave a narrative with moral authority, to desire that events ultimately be assessed for moral meaning. And here, the moral meaning emerges as demeaning to that which is assessed. I don’t think this assessment can be so simple, so blindly certain.

You shouldn’t underestimate the value of an Amazon wishlist–you’ll get what you want. I’m not one of those folks that obsessively updates or tweaks the selection of books on my wish list (out of sight, out of mind), so every Christmas I’m initally surprised by the perfect but unexpected books I receive from relatives. You read my mind, I think. No, it was the vast and glorious Amazon wishlist, with which we can thrust our desires out into the world, forming the simulacrum of an intimate conversation with others. The first thing I thought upon opening a pristine copy of Booth’s The Rhetoric of Fiction from the in-laws was Great! Then How? Then Oh yeah; cool.

Books I received for Christmas:

• The Rhetoric of Fiction, Wayne Booth
• Literary Theory: An Introduction, Terry Eagleton
• White Oleander, Janet Fitch
• Death of a Writer, Michael Collins
• The Eye of the Story: Selected Essays and Reviews, Eudora Welty

Books Mr. Ambergeek received:

• The Long Tail: Why the Future of Business is Selling Less of More, Chris Anderson
• Naked Conversations: How Blogs are Changing the Way Businesses Talk with Customers, Robert Scoble and Shel Israel
• Eat That Frog!: 21 Great Ways to Stop Procrastinating and Get More Done in Less Time, Brian Tracy

Books the progeny received:

• Zin Zin Zin a Violin (a Caldecott Honor Book), Lloyd Moss and Marjorie Priceman
• Snowmen at Night, Caralyn Buehner and Mark Buehner
• Go, Train, Go!, W. Rev. Awdry and Tommy Stubbs
• Casey At the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888 (a Caldecott Honor Book), Ernest L. Thayer and Christopher Bing

 Can I get a side of free time with those books?