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Matters Familiar
From Matters Familiar, E. G. Fabricant's first short story anthology, a rogues' gallery of featured characters--mostly in their own words:
Ashley Butterworth, precocious six-year-old, from Ashley Alert:
She pushed her ginger curls away from her ear and laid it carefully against the door and listened. All right! She clapped her hands and squealed, thought better of it and almost as quickly shushed herself. She sailed into the room and onto her trundle bed, one knee aboard and a straight leg trailing. She glimpsed the lacy blouse, pinafore, and Mary Janes on her image in the mirror and frowned. I hate me! Why do I have to be so girly all the time?
Chad Wilcomb, local beat reporter and single father, from Boys Will Be Men:
"Can Mommy come live with us again?"
Chad Wilcomb's shoulders sagged as he switched off the coffeemaker. He turned. His six-year-old's eyes shimmered above his cereal bowl like tiny blue Christmas balls. "Chuckie, we've been over this a million times in the last three years. No; Mommy's not going to live with us anymore."
Chuckie frowned into his milk. "I don't like two houses and Mrs. Sherwatter--she smells funny. Mommy has day care; she doesn't need no babysitter at night."
Halston Kohlfeldt, life- and morality-challenged human, from Chosen:
Halston sighed, slung his backpack, and headed for the door, dogged by the usual exchanges of nudges and murmurs. Adrianna Wong caught him by the elbow in the hallway. "Hey, Aristotle! Gonna pick up from last year and start the fall semester of '97 as the designated deep-thinker of the Class of '99?"
His wan smile breached the embarrassment. "Yeah--I guess."
Jim and Cary Ellison, self-imprisoned siblings, from Gemini:
Jim looked at Laura, the baby, as his little brother, Cary--all six-and-a-half feet of him--embraced the rostrum. The meadow of blue, gray, and oddly strawberry heads that had known them all as children stirred slightly, as if anticipating a chilly gust--fed, no doubt, each by their own recollections of the rocky history between mother and son. Laura's chrome-blue eyes summarized her, and their, concern.
Tiffany Queensberry, budding athlete, from Intentional Walk:
"Drills. Camps. Videos. Special coaching. The rants. 'Trophy, Tiffany. ' 'Scholarship, Tiffany.' 'The Olympics, Tiffany.' It's not bad enough that we play half the year..." She drifted away, lost in her laced fingers... "What if I'm not that good? I mean, like they all want? What then?"
Pearl O. Mutter, retired cowgirl, from The Jewel of Genoa:
She walked around the other, vacant bed and stood behind the half-closed door, finding herself in the full-length mirror. Even after all this time, she still couldn't believe her eyes. In another glass she'd seen a strong, brown woman with auburn locks, eyes that danced over a nose that drew more breath awake and alive than asleep, and a grin-prone mouth. Sturdy frame in a faded denim shirt, Levi's, and rough-out boots. A woman more familiar with the essences of lime, sweat, and just-singed cowhide than with those of Paris. Sinewy forearms and gnarled hands with the veins, knots, and calluses standard on the wife of a working cattle feeder. All she could find now were the eyes, if she allowed it, and the hands, which she couldn't help. Where did she go? Pearl asked herself. Well, I'm going t' find her again, and the lookin' starts now.
[Decline-to-State], sexual athlete, in Medalists:
He feigned interest in the pool rules as she lowered herself into the sanitized froth. Their heads and eyes moved in non-synchronous orbits. Wait. Wait. Now. Discreetly, he tucked in his TYR Heatwaves Male Racers to accentuate his genitals. He stood, grasped the handrail and climbed, hesitating on the top step. Slowly, his eyes moved to her fingertips, lingered at her tennis bracelet, and glided up her arm into her pupils. Violet--real, or lenses?
"John Doe," accident and amnesia victim, in Meridian:
John sagged at his armpits over the parallel bars, panting and aching from every pore; the area between his hip sockets and slippers was jelly.
"C'mon, John; two more steps and we'll call it a day." Coretta stood at the end, beckoning him with both hands.
"Oh, Jesus, Coretta--it hurts so bad..."
Coretta flushed and straightened up. "If you'd call His name in a helpful rather than a hurtful way, you'd be dancin' by Friday night, I guarantee."
Hank and Harry Martz<...
Ashley Butterworth, precocious six-year-old, from Ashley Alert:
She pushed her ginger curls away from her ear and laid it carefully against the door and listened. All right! She clapped her hands and squealed, thought better of it and almost as quickly shushed herself. She sailed into the room and onto her trundle bed, one knee aboard and a straight leg trailing. She glimpsed the lacy blouse, pinafore, and Mary Janes on her image in the mirror and frowned. I hate me! Why do I have to be so girly all the time?
Chad Wilcomb, local beat reporter and single father, from Boys Will Be Men:
"Can Mommy come live with us again?"
Chad Wilcomb's shoulders sagged as he switched off the coffeemaker. He turned. His six-year-old's eyes shimmered above his cereal bowl like tiny blue Christmas balls. "Chuckie, we've been over this a million times in the last three years. No; Mommy's not going to live with us anymore."
Chuckie frowned into his milk. "I don't like two houses and Mrs. Sherwatter--she smells funny. Mommy has day care; she doesn't need no babysitter at night."
Halston Kohlfeldt, life- and morality-challenged human, from Chosen:
Halston sighed, slung his backpack, and headed for the door, dogged by the usual exchanges of nudges and murmurs. Adrianna Wong caught him by the elbow in the hallway. "Hey, Aristotle! Gonna pick up from last year and start the fall semester of '97 as the designated deep-thinker of the Class of '99?"
His wan smile breached the embarrassment. "Yeah--I guess."
Jim and Cary Ellison, self-imprisoned siblings, from Gemini:
Jim looked at Laura, the baby, as his little brother, Cary--all six-and-a-half feet of him--embraced the rostrum. The meadow of blue, gray, and oddly strawberry heads that had known them all as children stirred slightly, as if anticipating a chilly gust--fed, no doubt, each by their own recollections of the rocky history between mother and son. Laura's chrome-blue eyes summarized her, and their, concern.
Tiffany Queensberry, budding athlete, from Intentional Walk:
"Drills. Camps. Videos. Special coaching. The rants. 'Trophy, Tiffany. ' 'Scholarship, Tiffany.' 'The Olympics, Tiffany.' It's not bad enough that we play half the year..." She drifted away, lost in her laced fingers... "What if I'm not that good? I mean, like they all want? What then?"
Pearl O. Mutter, retired cowgirl, from The Jewel of Genoa:
She walked around the other, vacant bed and stood behind the half-closed door, finding herself in the full-length mirror. Even after all this time, she still couldn't believe her eyes. In another glass she'd seen a strong, brown woman with auburn locks, eyes that danced over a nose that drew more breath awake and alive than asleep, and a grin-prone mouth. Sturdy frame in a faded denim shirt, Levi's, and rough-out boots. A woman more familiar with the essences of lime, sweat, and just-singed cowhide than with those of Paris. Sinewy forearms and gnarled hands with the veins, knots, and calluses standard on the wife of a working cattle feeder. All she could find now were the eyes, if she allowed it, and the hands, which she couldn't help. Where did she go? Pearl asked herself. Well, I'm going t' find her again, and the lookin' starts now.
[Decline-to-State], sexual athlete, in Medalists:
He feigned interest in the pool rules as she lowered herself into the sanitized froth. Their heads and eyes moved in non-synchronous orbits. Wait. Wait. Now. Discreetly, he tucked in his TYR Heatwaves Male Racers to accentuate his genitals. He stood, grasped the handrail and climbed, hesitating on the top step. Slowly, his eyes moved to her fingertips, lingered at her tennis bracelet, and glided up her arm into her pupils. Violet--real, or lenses?
"John Doe," accident and amnesia victim, in Meridian:
John sagged at his armpits over the parallel bars, panting and aching from every pore; the area between his hip sockets and slippers was jelly.
"C'mon, John; two more steps and we'll call it a day." Coretta stood at the end, beckoning him with both hands.
"Oh, Jesus, Coretta--it hurts so bad..."
Coretta flushed and straightened up. "If you'd call His name in a helpful rather than a hurtful way, you'd be dancin' by Friday night, I guarantee."
Hank and Harry Martz<...
294 pages, Paperback
First published August 31, 2010
About the author
E.G. Fabricant
26 books2 followersI'm a recovering lobbyist aiming to re-invent myself as the world's oldest, best new short fiction writer. My dormant interest in this pursuit was rekindled when I was selected as one of 10 finalists in the International Category of the Mark Twain Writing Competition: "A Murder, a Mystery, and a Marriage," sponsored by the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library. (I credit my lifelong hero for teaching me, from boyhood, more than any formal education could.) I'm also interested in hearing from others with similar interests who want to become better at it.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
June 10, 2014
I love me a good collection of short stories, and that is what E.G. Fabricant has given us in MATTERS FAMILIAR.
A collection of 12 contemporary stories, each exploring an aspect of family relationships. This anthology gives us glimpses of the different ways we parent - Fabricant dishes up, in one tale a helicopter parent whose very attention threatens to stifle her child's development, in another he gives us a mother too paralysed by loss and fear to provide any meaningful emotional structure to her son. We explore the relationships between siblings and cousins, between friends and team-mates.
This is an anthology dedicated to the ties that bind, holding a mirror up to the way we live our lives and the people with whom we populate them - some by choice, others through the obligations of blood.
I enjoyed this collection very much. Thank you.
A collection of 12 contemporary stories, each exploring an aspect of family relationships. This anthology gives us glimpses of the different ways we parent - Fabricant dishes up, in one tale a helicopter parent whose very attention threatens to stifle her child's development, in another he gives us a mother too paralysed by loss and fear to provide any meaningful emotional structure to her son. We explore the relationships between siblings and cousins, between friends and team-mates.
This is an anthology dedicated to the ties that bind, holding a mirror up to the way we live our lives and the people with whom we populate them - some by choice, others through the obligations of blood.
I enjoyed this collection very much. Thank you.
February 5, 2017
This book is a collection of 12 stories by E. G, Fabricant. I really enjoyed reading them. Each story was unique in circumstance and characters. I felt the author did a good job building the characters and I really liked the storylines. It was refreshing to find a collection that was very interesting without wild fantasies or bizarre gimmicks.
I received my copy of this book free through Netgalley
I received my copy of this book free through Netgalley
July 7, 2013
A few interesting stories. All of the characters & plots were seriously undeveloped. It read more like an expanded summary of possibly good stories than like a finished set of short stories.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews