Homesick collects many of the stories first found in Lucia Berlin's early books Angels Laundromat (Turtle Island), Phantom Pain (Tombouctou Press) and Safe And Sound (Poltroon Press) as well as Manual for Cleaning Women .
Berlin began publishing relatively late in life, under the encouragement and sometimes tutelage of poet Ed Dorn. Her first small collection, Angels Laundromat was published in 1981, but her published stories were written as early as 1960. Several of her stories appeared in magazines such as The Atlantic and Saul Bellow’s little magazine The Noble Savage.
Berlin published six collections of short stories, but most of her work can be found in three later volumes from Black Sparrow Books: Homesick: New and Selected Stories, So Long: Stories 1987-92 and Where I Live Now: Stories 1993-98.
Berlin was never a bestseller, but was widely influential within the literary community. She aspired to Chekhov's objectivity and refusal to judge. She has also been widely compared to Raymond Carver and Richard Yates. One of her most memorable achievements was the stunning one-page story "My Jockey," which captured a world, a moment and a panoramic movement in five quick paragraphs. It won the Jack London Short Prize for 1985. Berlin also won an American Book Award in 1991 for Homesick, and was awarded a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.
This is the best book by one of my favorite authors. (And full disclosure, my mentor, while she was alive. I fell in love with her work first, then her (not romantically). The two are almost indistinguishable. That's Lucia on the page.)
Lucia looked up to Chekhov more than any other writer, for the respect he showed all his characters: whether it was a barmaid or a princess, Chekhov granted them the same dignity, treated them as equals as human being. Lucia took that one step further. She showed tremendous respenct and also affection for all her characters. They were richer for it, and so are we.
Try to remember their advice. Believe in what you're doing. Stick with the hard parts. Maria's suggestion; write zines that you don't show anyone. My parents go to their lot on the lake. My dad is addicted to mowing. My mom says she's allergic to pain pills now. But not sleeping pills, not yet. I've stopped watching what she's eating for dinner. Corn, fruit, white rice. Her plate is never dirty. I listen to Maren Morris on repeat. I don't even have the speakers on most of the time. Yeah, I guess, that's my, church. What else to do? Wait for the radio station to start hiring again. Soul revival on the dial. Call it chuuch, play Pimp C at the top of the hour. Call it tabanacle. I've made $400 in two weeks, just like I used to in the city. But I don't have to pay for beer here. I'm spending the money on cigarettes and hair dye and more mood rings and used books. Sending presents to Gina even though she won't answer me. Asked my soul brother what I'm saving for. Those bumper stickers aren't right; it should be who saved whom. She saved her, not she saved she. Reading out of print Lucia Berlin from the university library. None of the books have security tags, but I haven't tested it yet. Can I get a Hallelujah? This is just another thing I wrote about the lord.
Just some really good short stories. Subjects could be kids, nurses, drug addicts, or even phone operators. A lot of stories take place in New Mexico, but it was a nice surprise that so many took place in Oakland! Such a pleasure.