The stories in this collection revolve around the love that characters crave, lost, or may never savor.
In the titular tale, Leonard Leopold is a successful divorce lawyer. But as his 40th birthday approaches, he looks for a new direction in life, which may entail his obvious attraction to his secretary, Jennifer Hopkins. The L-word drives the stories in this book, and not always the romantic kind. For example, in “Carved Stone,” Jane Simonton has had trouble maintaining relationships since her father abandoned the family. But she ultimately develops a love for Inuit carvings that she gradually collects. The highlighted emotion is even a threat in the indelible, SF-flavored “Love Contraception.” It takes place on the planet Coddle after humanity’s extinction. But humans’ Thoughts have already become separate entities, “infecting” other planets. Love, entangled in those Thoughts, somehow proves dangerous to the cloudlets living on Coddle. Many characters share similarities, especially an appreciation of art, including Syd of “Immobilon” who, like Jane, collects Inuit sculptures. But others are delightfully surprising. In the case of “The Doctor Party,” Mr. Jones and his wife, Helen, throw a party with (mostly) physicians. But while he ogles his therapist, Dr. Kretchmer, Helen seems to have her eyes on someone, too. In the same unpredictable vein, Benjamin, in the final tale, “The Miracle of Estelle,” dreads visiting “annoying,” paralytic Estelle with his wife, Melinda. But he soon sees Estelle in another, brighter light. Piatigorsky’s (The Speed of Dark, 2018, etc.) persistent metaphors are sometimes too on-the-surface, particularly as story titles, like Leonard’s open office door representing his newfound openness. Regardless, the author’s breezy style offers frequent moments of insight: “But she loved that he needed her to be happy, and she saw his incessant self-doubts as endearing qualities.” Prefacing each engrossing tale are debut illustrator Carrillo’s black-and-white sketches, which resemble photographs from an album (complete with corners). A standout is “The Doctor Party”—an imperfectly framed snapshot of people awkwardly huddled with drinks.
Quiet but earnest tales with emotionally resonant characters.
Pub Date: March 18, 2019
Page count: 218pp
Publisher: Adelaide Books
Review Posted Online: Oct. 21, 2019
A man from an illustrious family finds science to be the ultimate mode of aesthetic self-expression in this memoir.
Piatigorsky (Jellyfish Have Eyes, 2014, etc.), a biologist who had a distinguished career at the National Institutes of Health, tells of his extraordinarily rich but alienating family traditions and his search for independence outside them. His father, Gregor, was born into an impoverished Jewish family in Ukraine but became a world-renowned cellist, and his mother, Jacqueline, was an heiress to the Rothschild banking dynasty; after fleeing Europe during World War II, his parents and sister settled into a comfortable, fulfilling life in America, where he was born. But Piatigorsky’s boyhood memories are full of unease. Lacking musical talent, he was overshadowed by his father’s fame and was no more comfortable visiting his maternal grandparents’ palaces in France. He paints vivid scenes of glittering musicales with the most famous classical musicians and formal dinners with servants hovering everywhere in rooms decked with priceless paintings. But the lonely, slightly neurotic author “felt an outsider…as if looking through a window and tapping on the glass.” He embarked on a career as a biologist, studying at Harvard University and Caltech and finally settling at the NIH. Much of the book concerns his quirky but engrossing scientific research, which started with studies of sea urchins, moved on to “crystallins”—transparent proteins found in the eye—and eventually led to groundbreaking discoveries in “gene sharing,” the phenomenon of individual proteins performing radically different functions in different cells. Piatigorsky’s exposition of the science that he pursued is lucid and highly accessible to lay readers. He also pens a fine portrait of science as a human activity. His anecdotes are full of mundane screw-ups, from unlabeled samples to experiments that were ruined when a test tube broke. The work was sometimes distasteful and distressing; he was initially heartsick at having to kill mice for experiments, but he eventually became nonchalant about it—and he wondered what that said about his moral character. There’s deeper angst as well; crushed when colleagues ignored his presentation at a scientific conference, he realized that his “science was not up to par” and started wondering whether he really belonged in the field. But there are also moments of exhilaration when new theories pan out and hours of quiet engagement doing painstaking but satisfying lab work. Piatigorsky insists that science is “driven by passion, like art,” and his vibrant prose is full of entrancing appreciations of the artistry in science and nature, whether it be an elegantly constructed experiment or the “angelic white form” of a jellyfish. He makes a ringing case for science as a freely creative endeavor, untethered to practical ends and guided only by the curiosity of scientists. It’s a satisfying conclusion that brings his struggle to live up to his father’s music and the Rothschilds’ art collecting full circle.
An absorbing, luminous story of a son wrestling with his family’s legacy that highlights the imaginative and emotional dimensions of scientific discovery.
Pub Date: April 22, 2018
Page count: 288pp
Publisher: Adelaide Books
Review Posted Online: July 20, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 2018
This intriguingly dark collection of short stories by Piatigorsky (Jellyfish Have Eyes, 2015, etc.) considers the possibility of a transitional stage between life and death.
“I cannot fathom my own death,” writes scientist Piatigorsky, “however, the mind and imagination can…indulge in fantasies…that challenge our concepts of death and being human.” This collection of six short stories does exactly that. The first, “Notes Going Underground,” is written from the perspective of a research scientist who finds he has been given a “grace period” between life and death to “size up” his life before burial. In “My Funeral,” a biomedical scientist discovers that once dead, he continues to feel alive and attends his own memorial service. “Waking up Dead” continues in a similar vein with a protagonist who doesn’t realize he is dead and continues his life as usual. The imagination-stretching “Death by Drowning” is about a daughter who connects with an absent father who has been jailed for misusing government funds when researching jellyfish, only for him to die in a bizarre manner. “Mr. Blok” ponders the state of dying after the protagonist falls into a ditch, and “What’s Alive” takes the form of an essay examining the gray area between life and death. The writing is playfully morbid. In “Mr. Blok” an unnerving pleasure arises from the process of dying: “Lying on his back in the mud, soft and warm, with his eyes closed, in the marvelous quietness made him feel almost grateful and glad. How amazingly simple it is to be dead.” Piatigorsky’s prose is laconic yet elegant—always keen to confront the reader with probing questions: “Is a virus dead? Is the peeling bark of a eucalyptus tree alive?” The result is a deeply thought-provoking collection that presents an unflinching examination of a taboo subject. The first three offerings read as a reworking of the same story, each about a scientist negotiating the partition between life and death. Still, despite blurring into one another, these stories capture various aspects of the same phenomena. Accompanied by suitably macabre illustrations by Carrillo, this book is an intriguing read.
Penetrating, inventive writing that challenges perceptions of what lies beyond the veil.
Page count: 95pp
Publisher: Adelaide Books
Review Posted Online: Jan. 2, 2020
The Speed of Dark
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