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FALSE BINGO

Tense, well-imagined stories whose tendencies to unravel mirror the characters they chronicle.

Twenty short stories about people in the muted extremes of ordinary lives.

Jemc’s (The Grip of It, 2017, etc) stories revel in disquiet. Sometimes this uneasiness is the palpable result of external forces, as in “Don’t Let’s,” in which a woman seeking solitude in the aftermath of an assault may or may not be haunted by a boo hag. Sometimes they expand into gleeful expressions of the macabre, as in “Get Back,” an unrepentant litany of gruesome deaths narrated by the succubuslike murderer herself; or in “Strange Loop,” where the ex-con main character, John, “forget[s] the trembling urges he kept in check” through his total immersion in taxidermy. More often, however, the stories nudge up against confrontational situations that they then allow to dissipate. In “Manifest,” Bernadette’s seemingly plot-instigating encounter with a man with “movie-star good looks” in the plastic surgeon’s office is left behind as the story veers toward an exploration of her determined isolation. In the wonderfully eerie “Hunt and Catch,” the multiple perils that accompany Emily’s commute home from work—a stalking dump truck driver; an overly attentive good Samaritan; her own suddenly unreliable perceptions—are left outside her locked door as she attends to the “quiet dark[ness]” of her private life. In “Maulawiyah,” one of the longer and more conventionally structured stories in the collection, Raila is on a mindfulness retreat where her best intentions toward introspection are interrupted by the pitch-perfect Lisa, whose irritating narcissism Jemc chooses to neither elevate into malevolence nor excuse by way of empathetic backstory. Instead Raila and Lisa are allowed to linger in the singular moment of their relationship in a way that resonates for the reader more like a memory of their own discomfort than it does a story aiming toward a purposeful conclusion. Jemc’s insistence on her stories’ rights not to resolve their dilemmas is the thread that binds this book together, though too many similarly disaffected characters make the stories difficult to digest back to back. The result is a collection that will disappoint a reader looking for a tightly controlled narrative arc but delight one willing to learn how these particular stories want to be read.

Tense, well-imagined stories whose tendencies to unravel mirror the characters they chronicle.

Pub Date: Oct. 8, 2019

ISBN: 978-0-374-53835-4

Page Count: 240

Publisher: MCD/Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Review Posted Online: July 14, 2019

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2019

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THE THINGS THEY CARRIED

It's being called a novel, but it is more a hybrid: short-stories/essays/confessions about the Vietnam War—the subject that O'Brien reasonably comes back to with every book. Some of these stories/memoirs are very good in their starkness and factualness: the title piece, about what a foot soldier actually has on him (weights included) at any given time, lends a palpability that makes the emotional freight (fear, horror, guilt) correspond superbly. Maybe the most moving piece here is "On The Rainy River," about a draftee's ambivalence about going, and how he decided to go: "I would go to war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to." But so much else is so structurally coy that real effects are muted and disadvantaged: O'Brien is writing a book more about earnestness than about war, and the peekaboos of this isn't really me but of course it truly is serve no true purpose. They make this an annoyingly arty book, hiding more than not behind Hemingwayesque time-signatures and puerile repetitions about war (and memory and everything else, for that matter) being hell and heaven both. A disappointment.

Pub Date: March 28, 1990

ISBN: 0618706410

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: Oct. 2, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1990

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THINGS FALL APART

This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.

Written with quiet dignity that builds to a climax of tragic force, this book about the dissolution of an African tribe, its traditions, and values, represents a welcome departure from the familiar "Me, white brother" genre.

Written by a Nigerian African trained in missionary schools, this novel tells quietly the story of a brave man, Okonkwo, whose life has absolute validity in terms of his culture, and who exercises his prerogative as a warrior, father, and husband with unflinching single mindedness. But into the complex Nigerian village filters the teachings of strangers, teachings so alien to the tribe, that resistance is impossible. One must distinguish a force to be able to oppose it, and to most, the talk of Christian salvation is no more than the babbling of incoherent children. Still, with his guns and persistence, the white man, amoeba-like, gradually absorbs the native culture and in despair, Okonkwo, unable to withstand the corrosion of what he, alone, understands to be the life force of his people, hangs himself. In the formlessness of the dying culture, it is the missionary who takes note of the event, reminding himself to give Okonkwo's gesture a line or two in his work, The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.

This book sings with the terrible silence of dead civilizations in which once there was valor.

Pub Date: Jan. 23, 1958

ISBN: 0385474547

Page Count: 207

Publisher: McDowell, Obolensky

Review Posted Online: April 23, 2013

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1958

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