BLANK PAGES
And other stories
By Bernard MacLaverty
261 pp. Norton. $26.95.
The stories in this Irish author’s new book deal with loss, death, the inevitability of grief, the humiliations of old age and the way a life can suddenly slide into the abyss. It could have been very grim, but MacLaverty writes with such compassion that his stories never feel gloomy; they feel humane. They feel hopeful. “Soup Mix” reads like something Flannery O’Connor could have written instead of “Everything That Rises Must Converge,” if only she felt more sorry for her characters. A Love Picture, in which a Belfast woman learns in 1940 that her conscript son is lost at sea, feels like it’s headed for the cruellest of conclusions until MacLaverty takes an unexpected turn in the direction of kindness. There’s humor in these stories too, most notably in “The Fairly Good Samaritan,” in which an alcoholic barely manages to call an ambulance for his dying neighbor before helping herself to her medicinal brandy.
MacLaverty tells stories through the accumulation of sensory details. A woman is moved by the sudden coolness on her skin as perfume evaporates from her wrist. An old man searching for his lost grandchildren becomes aware of “spicy, strange smells, such as tea, cinnamon, rosemary, musk” as his panic mounts. A man visiting his elderly mother realizes that he “heard a blackbird sing for the third time that day.” The constant encounters with such exquisite impressions immerse you in each story, leaving you vulnerable to its emotional punch. “Blank Pages” may explore some of life’s darkest passages, but they feel true as only fiction can, and are never overwhelmed by darkness.
SHIT CASSANDRA SAW
Stories
By Gwen E. Kirby
274 pp. Penguin Books. Paper, $17.
Reading Kirby’s collection is like watching an irreverent marching band spread chaotically across a football field at halftime, only to find the perfect formation at the last minute. Seemingly random events merge into a deeper meaning. Kirby’s characters aren’t necessarily the wiser because of their often harrowing experiences, but on the other hand, they seem more contented. As the narrator of “Midwestern Girl Is Tired of Appearing in Your Short Stories” thinks, “It’s lucky she’s not waiting for a moment of revelation, but just looking out for the rock of the bus rolling down the highway.”
Kirby’s characters are mostly women, and they come alive on the page and move through the world with coordinated ease. They are athletes, pirates, warriors. Sometimes they get canines. One woman “stands in the backyard and cries — not because she’s sad, but because her lungs are strong and it’s a joy to turn air into sound.” One girl “loves to be busy, the center of the whole game, feeling all her strength gathering in her back leg and her loose hands.”
