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THE BEST AMERICAN SHORT STORIES

1982

Since the death of Martha Foley, the Best American Short Stories series has been in the hands of annual celebrity-editors—so, while William Abrahams' O. Henry Awards collections have become ever more sturdily sound and balanced, the Best have become idiosyncratic and erratic, more a gathering of personal favorites than a trustworthy reflection of the evolving short-story scene. And now, with selections by the notoriously didactic John Gardner, this decimation of the Foley legacy is virtually complete. Gardner's faintly apologetic introduction gives one a fair idea of what's ahead: he says that he put off his compilation to the last minute, that some stories were included because of his wife's strong feelings; he announces his preference for stories of "deep seriousness"—which, in this case, means sentimental, unsophisticated work written in opposition to all the sorts of fiction which Gardner so famously deplores (cf. Moral Fiction). And it's disturbing to note that four of the weakest pieces originated in literary magazines with Gardner-academia connections. True, five of the stories here are worthy of anyone's anthology: Raymond Carter's "Cathedral," perhaps an American classic (already anthologized in this year's Random Review); Charles Baxter's "Harmony Of The World"; William Hauptman's loose and rippling delight, "Good Rockin' Tonight"; Mary Robison's pop-artish "Coach"; and a piece of grim, grisly realism from Charles Johnson. The rest, however, is heartbreakingly dull: a YA-ish dolphin story; Holocaust parables of no immediacy whatsoever; the dreary memoirs of an aging roue; a particularly long and uninvolving Joyce Carol Oates story; and several amateurish efforts among the rest. As a sampling of what moral-crusader Gardner likes in short-story fiction, then, this is certainly informative. But it's hardly a fair reflection of the year's best—and perhaps this series should take on a new title if such unbalanced collections are to be expected in the future.

Pub Date: Oct. 1, 1982

ISBN: 0395322073

Page Count: 374

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin

Review Posted Online: March 29, 2012

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1982

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THE PEOPLE IN THE TREES

Yanagihara presents a cautionary tale about what can happen when Western arrogance meets primeval culture.

An instance of that rare subgenre of literature, the anthropological novel, in which Norton Perina, winner of the Nobel Prize in medicine, traces the early part of his life, when he helped both discover and destroy a lost tribe.

Yanagihara does everything she can to establish verisimilitude in this novel, so much so that the reader will be Googling names of characters to see if they’re “really real.” The movement toward ultrarealism extends to footnotes and an appendix provided by Ronald Kubodera, whose friendship with Perina extends even into the sad period when the Nobel Prize winner was convicted of sexual abuse involving some of the tribal children he brought back with him. Kubodera provides a preface in which he vigorously defends Perina, and then the narrative is turned over to Perina’s memoirs, which take us back to his Midwestern upbringing, his rivalry with his brother Owen, his graduation from Harvard Medical School and almost immediate hire by the anthropologist Paul Tallent. Along with his assistant Esme Duff, Paul takes Perina to U’ivu, a constellation of remote islands in the South Pacific. Perina becomes immediately fascinated with Ivu’ivu, an island that harbors a small tribe, a number of whom are well over 100  years old. Perina traces this longevity to the eating of an opa’ivu’eke, a sacred turtle whose meat is consumed in certain ritualistic practices. Determined to find out the secret of immortality, Perina brings back three Ivu'ivuian "dreamers" with him and smuggles an opa’ivu’eke into his lab at Stanford.

Yanagihara presents a cautionary tale about what can happen when Western arrogance meets primeval culture.

Pub Date: Aug. 13, 2013

ISBN: 978-0-385-53677-7

Page Count: 432

Publisher: Doubleday

Review Posted Online: May 29, 2013

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2013

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WE THE ANIMALS

Upon finishing, readers might be tempted to start again, not wanting to let it go.

An exquisitely crafted debut novel—subtle, shimmering and emotionally devastating.

Those whose memories of contemporary literature extend a quarter century might be tempted to compare this with Susan Minot’s Monkeys (1986), another short, elliptical debut novel about family dynamics that received rapturous reviews upon publication. Yet this is a different novel, and a better one, about a different sort of family and a narrator’s discovery of how he is both a part of them and apart from them. The dedication—“For my mother, my brothers and my father and for Owen”—suggests that the narrator’s rites of passage reflect the author’s own, that this is a novel that probes deep, even painful truths. The narrator is the youngest of three sons of a white, Brooklyn mother and a Puerto Rican father, who became parents in their teens. Like the title suggests, the first-person narration initially might as well be plural, for the narrator and his older brothers Manny and Leon resemble “a three-torsoed beast,” scrounging for sustenance and meaning amid the tumultuous relationship of their parents, one that the boys can barely understand (though sometimes they intuit more than the narrator can articulate). Their bond provides what little defense they have against their mother’s emotional instability and their father’s unsteady employment and fidelity. They are, like some of the most exhilarating writing, “wild and loose and free.” Yet the narrative voice is a marvel of control—one that reflects the perceptions and limitations of a 7-year-old in language that suggests someone older is channeling his younger perspective. In short chapters that stand alone yet ultimately achieve momentum, the narrator comes to terms with his brothers, his family and his sexuality, separating the “I” from the “we” and suffering the consequences. Ultimately, the novel has a redemptive resonance—for the narrator, for the rest of the fictional family and for the reader as well.

Upon finishing, readers might be tempted to start again, not wanting to let it go.

Pub Date: Sept. 2, 2011

ISBN: 978-0-547-57672-5

Page Count: 144

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Review Posted Online: July 19, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2011

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