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Inspecting the Vaults
These 18 stories by the author of "The Paradise Motel" range from magic realism to the hauntingly macabre. Whether describing a town of one-legged miners, a bizarre brother/sister relationship, or salty seamen telling their favourite real-life horror stories, McCormack disturbs and enchants.
242 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1987
85 people want to read
About the author
Eric McCormack
16 books38 followersEric McCormack was born in Scotland, later emigrated to Canada and, since 1970, has been teaching at St. Jerome's University in Waterloo, Ontario. He started out on his career writing short stories which appeared in literary journals including Prism International, West Coast Review, Malahat Review, and The New Quarterly. He has also written poetry over the years. In February 1987 his first book, Inspecting the Vaults was published. This is a collection of nineteen short stories, thirteen of which had been previously published in literary magazines. His first novel, The Paradise Motel, was published in February 1989. Eric McCormack became the focus of considerable media interest and his books were translated into many foreign languages. His next novel, The Mysterium, was released in 1992, and his most recent book, First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women was published in 1997. It was nominated for the Governor General's Award. Eric McCormack also frequently reviews for The Globe and Mail. His works to date have received much critical acclaim.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
December 4, 2013
The 1993 edition includes the novella The Paradise Motel. It also includes a cover blurb from a Montreal Gazette review: "odd and unsettling ... murder, deformity and cruelty are treated as everyday occurrences."
McCormack taught contemporary literature at the University of Waterloo while I attended that institution in the late-1980s, early-1990s. I didn't take his course, but I sat in on a couple. He taught Raymond Carver, Borges, Donald Bartheme. None of whom I'd heard of before.
He was also known as the author of a freaky collection of short fiction, Inspecting the Vaults.
I read it after I left Waterloo, during a period when I trembled with desire to write decent short fiction. What was that even? What was a short story?
I remember one McCormack class when he described meeting a woman whose grandmother had sat on the knee of Thomas Hardy (if I remember correctly). "There's a direct line from this classroom to Thomas Hardy," he said. Then he went on to describe a Hardy novel as one that turned on a plot point: "she drank a cup of tea."
No such subtlety to the degree of manners in the curriculum of McCormack's class. Later, after I'd asked McCormack to read some of my budding short fiction, I mentioned the blurb on his book to him.
"But murder, deformity and cruelty are everyday occurrences," I said.
He nodded knowingly and made a clever comment.
Cleverness is what shines out of his stories. Pessimism, too, likely. More than a flirtation with the gothic. A deep knowledge of world literature and movements away from realism. A fantastical imagination.
An un-Canadian disinterest in earnestness.
Reading this book helped me to define for myself what was the essential "storyness" in a short story. It wasn't the movement of action within a plot. It wasn't a twist or surprise ending. It was a manipulation of language and an attempt at a new kind of see-ing.
A digging deeper past surfaces and a stark honesty to reveal what one felt.
Eric, thank you. I haven't forgotten.
McCormack taught contemporary literature at the University of Waterloo while I attended that institution in the late-1980s, early-1990s. I didn't take his course, but I sat in on a couple. He taught Raymond Carver, Borges, Donald Bartheme. None of whom I'd heard of before.
He was also known as the author of a freaky collection of short fiction, Inspecting the Vaults.
I read it after I left Waterloo, during a period when I trembled with desire to write decent short fiction. What was that even? What was a short story?
I remember one McCormack class when he described meeting a woman whose grandmother had sat on the knee of Thomas Hardy (if I remember correctly). "There's a direct line from this classroom to Thomas Hardy," he said. Then he went on to describe a Hardy novel as one that turned on a plot point: "she drank a cup of tea."
No such subtlety to the degree of manners in the curriculum of McCormack's class. Later, after I'd asked McCormack to read some of my budding short fiction, I mentioned the blurb on his book to him.
"But murder, deformity and cruelty are everyday occurrences," I said.
He nodded knowingly and made a clever comment.
Cleverness is what shines out of his stories. Pessimism, too, likely. More than a flirtation with the gothic. A deep knowledge of world literature and movements away from realism. A fantastical imagination.
An un-Canadian disinterest in earnestness.
Reading this book helped me to define for myself what was the essential "storyness" in a short story. It wasn't the movement of action within a plot. It wasn't a twist or surprise ending. It was a manipulation of language and an attempt at a new kind of see-ing.
A digging deeper past surfaces and a stark honesty to reveal what one felt.
Eric, thank you. I haven't forgotten.
January 18, 2018
Pirmas geras šių metų atradimas - Kanados autorius. Ši apsakymų rinktinė gali priminti tiek Borgesą su Cortazaru, tiek gotikinį rašymo stilių pamėgusius autorius, tiek ant slidžios žanrų susiliejimo ribos dirbančius rašytojus - vadinamuosius "slipstream fiction" autorius. Ir dar drėbtelta gera dozė absurdo.
Autoriaus fantazija ir išradingumas tikrai žavi. Atspariems smegenims ir tvirtiems skrandžiams :)
Autoriaus fantazija ir išradingumas tikrai žavi. Atspariems smegenims ir tvirtiems skrandžiams :)
September 23, 2024
I was taken on so many travels, most of them deliciously twisted.
McCormack brought me into character-driven worlds. Each of the characters' psyche - well crafted when confronted with the absurdity of their reality - so very pulling.
For lovers of the macabre.
Perfect for the fall.
McCormack brought me into character-driven worlds. Each of the characters' psyche - well crafted when confronted with the absurdity of their reality - so very pulling.
For lovers of the macabre.
Perfect for the fall.
September 16, 2019
Some interesting images, but little plot and a general feeling of "why?" There seems to be an interest in metatextuality and social repression (as well as a desire to shock) but like, not in a way that interested me. There's also a tendency to project some white-guy nonsense onto aboriginal cultures. That shit don't fly anymore. On the plus side, some sly humour occurs once in a while.
Inspecting the Vaults - I mean, sure, people with weird supernatural powers are a threat to not-so-democratic regimes, I guess? OK? And the inspector is also weird and beholden to the government? Sure?
The Fragment - imagined monks who make themselves celibate, silent, and blind, the hard way. The manuscript doesn't really read like it was written in the 16th century but it made me look up The Anatomy of Melancholy so that's nice.
Sad Stories in Patagonia - The themes between the stories (and Patagonia?) were a bit lost on me, to be honest. (An exotic place where boys are tortured into spider monsters; Thomas a Kempis being buried alive; a husband who dismembers his wife and puts her bits in his kids.) Some snark on the cook who dissects the stories like an English prof. That's fun, I guess.
Eckhardt at a Window - a detective falls for a woman who has fallen for a serial kill (why?), and the woman and killer die by spontaneous glass breakage. I guess you could say this says something about communities which support unsavoury characters for a long time but then something snaps and they get turned upon ? I dunno. Probably my favourite because it's the most coherent, and reminds me a bit of Borges (he did the whole gothic karma thing, right?)
The One-Legged Man - Mine workers lose a leg when they're in an elevator that falls. Most of them are pretty sad about it. Sure?
Knox Abroad - this was probably my least favourite, for the description of a psychopathic young John Knox feeding his baby sister to the pigs (!) to the description of Canadian indigenous people, who deserve better. (Though I think McCormack thought he was being generous with them.) Ugh.
Edward and Georgina - I guessed the twist a paragraph or so ahead. This comes off so dated - you can't really have a story with a shock twist of cross-dressing and nothing else these days.
Captain Joe - I forgot what this one was about and had to re-read half of it for this review. The Captain wakes up old but went to bed young! OMG, we all feel this way, don't we? I feel like I at least got the point of this one but I'm not sure it wasn't JUST A LITTLE HAM-HANDED.
The Swath - Weirdly interesting, about a big chasm that opens up all over the world, kills some people, and then closes up. Seems like a metaphor for the chaos of the world except that everyone loves it and turns it into a religion? Not sure that's how grief works but maybe. Up there for my favourite.
Festival - the festival tricked some lovers so one kills the other! For no reason that is clear. I guess entertainment kills and tricks? It doesn't seem to be about capitalism (though maybe the festival would have corporate sponsors in a modern retelling).
No Country for Old Men - another I can't remember except that it's not the movie. Really about an old man who killed a friendly German in the war, is feeling guilty, karma is closing in, and the young people don't care. Seems emotionally honest at least.
A Train of Gardens - one I didn't get at all. A lot about a tribe where men are mutilated one limb at a time (sometimes McCormick seems a little Mens Rights Activisty) and then something about the guy who saw the tribe starting a cult and making a train with each car representing a wilderness challenge. What is the connection to the tribe?! Something about finding your inner savage, noble or otherwise? Ugh.
The Hobby - probably the most cliche and predictable of the bunch. I would argue Robert Munsch did it better with Jonathan Cleaned Up. I did like the ending though.
One Picture of Trotsky - more plot than most of these stories but again, a lot of disjointed images. What does being the twin daughter of a corpse with a moralistic serial killer brother have to do with lost love and taking pictures of Trotsky? Then the writing gets muddy, sort of implying the narrator re-writes the story part way so Abigail has a job. I don't get it. I guess there's an attempt to say she's obsessed with death and time (because of her dad and dead husband) by insisting on being in her book of portraits of the dying. Sure. (Now that i think about it, maybe the most interesting idea is that she's death obsessed but apparently a good and kind person?)
Lusawort's Meditation - an Azorean whaler slowly goes insane in the city, finding images, sounds, smells to attack him. I mean, I get it. He passed on his girlfriend to his buddy though, which is sexistly nice?
Anyhow in a Corner - I like the application/interview style but I can't decide if it's mocking an old, poor man with dreams of being Walter Scott 2.0 and who misses his dead wife. The description of his clothes seems pretty cruel in contrast with his fantasies of being a patronized artist. I didn't really get the Laurel & Hardy fanfic reference, either.
A Long Day in the Town - takes place over two days. Again, no obvious connection between the random characters (mother of plague victim; man who fancies his family is out to kill him; ugly woman who got a lot of plastic surgery and is unrespected) except maybe they're all zombies? The guy who walks great distances probably has the most interesting story but it is untold.
Twins - Maybe it's late and I'm dumb but how many people here are the same people? I guess the blue-eyed man is the narrator, and impregnated Malachi's mom and Malachi's girlfriend? I guess Malachi is a pretty straightforward metaphor for our own dualistic natures (polite and social! mean and antisocial!) and the twins are the metaphor for uniting fractured psyches but no one seems happy about anything.
The Fugue - not sure who edited this, but I wouldn't put this right after Twins because it makes it really easy to guess the "twist." I guess everyone in the 80s were really excited about being metatextual and having characters read stories and the stories coming to life and influencing the characters. I don't know, my life doesn't seem very metatextual except that I preceive my own life through a filter of cliches, I guess. But I don't think that's really fleshed out well here.
There's a lot of gothic karma* going on in these stories, a lot of incest, Scotch, and repeated images.
* I just made this up. What do you call it when people are haunted by their mistakes and inanimate objects (representing their guilt) do them in? Ie they have dreams about their murder weapon and they wake up to find it's moved or they've used it or whatever? I feel Poe used this and maybe Borges too.
Inspecting the Vaults - I mean, sure, people with weird supernatural powers are a threat to not-so-democratic regimes, I guess? OK? And the inspector is also weird and beholden to the government? Sure?
The Fragment - imagined monks who make themselves celibate, silent, and blind, the hard way. The manuscript doesn't really read like it was written in the 16th century but it made me look up The Anatomy of Melancholy so that's nice.
Sad Stories in Patagonia - The themes between the stories (and Patagonia?) were a bit lost on me, to be honest. (An exotic place where boys are tortured into spider monsters; Thomas a Kempis being buried alive; a husband who dismembers his wife and puts her bits in his kids.) Some snark on the cook who dissects the stories like an English prof. That's fun, I guess.
Eckhardt at a Window - a detective falls for a woman who has fallen for a serial kill (why?), and the woman and killer die by spontaneous glass breakage. I guess you could say this says something about communities which support unsavoury characters for a long time but then something snaps and they get turned upon ? I dunno. Probably my favourite because it's the most coherent, and reminds me a bit of Borges (he did the whole gothic karma thing, right?)
The One-Legged Man - Mine workers lose a leg when they're in an elevator that falls. Most of them are pretty sad about it. Sure?
Knox Abroad - this was probably my least favourite, for the description of a psychopathic young John Knox feeding his baby sister to the pigs (!) to the description of Canadian indigenous people, who deserve better. (Though I think McCormack thought he was being generous with them.) Ugh.
Edward and Georgina - I guessed the twist a paragraph or so ahead. This comes off so dated - you can't really have a story with a shock twist of cross-dressing and nothing else these days.
Captain Joe - I forgot what this one was about and had to re-read half of it for this review. The Captain wakes up old but went to bed young! OMG, we all feel this way, don't we? I feel like I at least got the point of this one but I'm not sure it wasn't JUST A LITTLE HAM-HANDED.
The Swath - Weirdly interesting, about a big chasm that opens up all over the world, kills some people, and then closes up. Seems like a metaphor for the chaos of the world except that everyone loves it and turns it into a religion? Not sure that's how grief works but maybe. Up there for my favourite.
Festival - the festival tricked some lovers so one kills the other! For no reason that is clear. I guess entertainment kills and tricks? It doesn't seem to be about capitalism (though maybe the festival would have corporate sponsors in a modern retelling).
No Country for Old Men - another I can't remember except that it's not the movie. Really about an old man who killed a friendly German in the war, is feeling guilty, karma is closing in, and the young people don't care. Seems emotionally honest at least.
A Train of Gardens - one I didn't get at all. A lot about a tribe where men are mutilated one limb at a time (sometimes McCormick seems a little Mens Rights Activisty) and then something about the guy who saw the tribe starting a cult and making a train with each car representing a wilderness challenge. What is the connection to the tribe?! Something about finding your inner savage, noble or otherwise? Ugh.
The Hobby - probably the most cliche and predictable of the bunch. I would argue Robert Munsch did it better with Jonathan Cleaned Up. I did like the ending though.
One Picture of Trotsky - more plot than most of these stories but again, a lot of disjointed images. What does being the twin daughter of a corpse with a moralistic serial killer brother have to do with lost love and taking pictures of Trotsky? Then the writing gets muddy, sort of implying the narrator re-writes the story part way so Abigail has a job. I don't get it. I guess there's an attempt to say she's obsessed with death and time (because of her dad and dead husband) by insisting on being in her book of portraits of the dying. Sure. (Now that i think about it, maybe the most interesting idea is that she's death obsessed but apparently a good and kind person?)
Lusawort's Meditation - an Azorean whaler slowly goes insane in the city, finding images, sounds, smells to attack him. I mean, I get it. He passed on his girlfriend to his buddy though, which is sexistly nice?
Anyhow in a Corner - I like the application/interview style but I can't decide if it's mocking an old, poor man with dreams of being Walter Scott 2.0 and who misses his dead wife. The description of his clothes seems pretty cruel in contrast with his fantasies of being a patronized artist. I didn't really get the Laurel & Hardy fanfic reference, either.
A Long Day in the Town - takes place over two days. Again, no obvious connection between the random characters (mother of plague victim; man who fancies his family is out to kill him; ugly woman who got a lot of plastic surgery and is unrespected) except maybe they're all zombies? The guy who walks great distances probably has the most interesting story but it is untold.
Twins - Maybe it's late and I'm dumb but how many people here are the same people? I guess the blue-eyed man is the narrator, and impregnated Malachi's mom and Malachi's girlfriend? I guess Malachi is a pretty straightforward metaphor for our own dualistic natures (polite and social! mean and antisocial!) and the twins are the metaphor for uniting fractured psyches but no one seems happy about anything.
The Fugue - not sure who edited this, but I wouldn't put this right after Twins because it makes it really easy to guess the "twist." I guess everyone in the 80s were really excited about being metatextual and having characters read stories and the stories coming to life and influencing the characters. I don't know, my life doesn't seem very metatextual except that I preceive my own life through a filter of cliches, I guess. But I don't think that's really fleshed out well here.
There's a lot of gothic karma* going on in these stories, a lot of incest, Scotch, and repeated images.
* I just made this up. What do you call it when people are haunted by their mistakes and inanimate objects (representing their guilt) do them in? Ie they have dreams about their murder weapon and they wake up to find it's moved or they've used it or whatever? I feel Poe used this and maybe Borges too.
August 20, 2014
Некоторые рассказы из этого сборника — первой его книги, которая долго меня бежала, — потом вошли в романы (и не только «Грустные рассказы в Патагонии», вшитые потом в «Мотель Парадиз», есть и еще мотивы). Маккормак — великий мрачный фантазер, продолжатель долгой традиции страшных рассказчиков от Пор, Бирса и Ирвинга до Борхеса и Кортасара. Дело даже не в сверхъестественном и/или готически-ужасном, оно-то как раз относительно незначимо, не в саспенсе, хотя его местами хватает, а в причудливых извивах и спиралях литературной фантазии. Для Маккормака нет запретных сюжетов — как в рассказах его нет нравоучений, нет выводов или ответов на вопросы, почему, зачем и как. Чистая гениальная фантазия, ничем не сдерживаемые ее налеты и порывы. Если бы Александр Грин был писателем получше, он бы мог стать Эриком Маккормаком.
June 3, 2022
Some truly creative and disturbing scenes of body horror. As others have noted about McCormack, he is more interested in mood and style than in plot. But the writing is good and the ideas strong, so I would consider checking out his later books.
November 14, 2008
Cheerfully unsettling, very Borges.
October 14, 2012
Some excellent stories in this collection. McCormack is not strong on narrative but some of the images and descriptions will stay with me always.
June 25, 2015
There are some ups and downs in this collection, but I love McCormack. Terrific short stories you will find here: Inspecting The Vaults, The Swath, Captain Joe, Edward and Georgina, Festival.
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