In eleven expertly crafted stories, John Brandon gives us a stunning assortment of men and women at the edge of possibility—gamblers and psychics, wanderers and priests, all of them on the verge of finding out what they can get away with, and what they can't. Ranging from haunted deserts to alligator-filled swamps, these are stories of foul luck and strange visitations, delivered with deadpan humor by an unforgettable voice.
The New York Times praised Brandon's last novel for a style that combined Elmore Leonard and Charles Portis, and now Brandon brings that same darkly American artistry to his very first story collection, demonstrating once again that he belongs in the top ranks of contemporary writers.
Although John Brandon is an MFA graduate of the writing program at Washington University in St. Louis, while drafting the novel Arkansas, he "worked at a lumber mill, a windshield warehouse, a Coca-Cola distributor, and several small factories producing goods made of rubber and plastic." In his spare time, he obsesses over Florida Gators football.
Here's a string of stories that lack traditional dramatic structure and edge closer to the arc of real life, in spite of the characters not necessarily feeling real. What I'm saying is that there aren't really conclusions here and the characters don't achieve their goals, or even evolve as people over the course of the story, but they exist in a world that is very specific to John Brandon's aesthetic: lots of people living on the edges of society, using dry humor to confront a world that never feels dangerous enough for them. Brandon stretches his legs a little here content-wise, as he did on his last novel - journeying into stories about psychics and floating brains, but his bread and butter is still the sly and irreverant slacker observations that surround those situations. I'll stick with Brandon for his whole career, I imagine.
Sometimes raising children makes it hard to read a novel without having to go back and reread all the time. So short story collections are good. This one is good. I miss my brain.
Most of these stories are thought provoking. Some are strong with tight writing, as in the one about a child entrepreneur seeking partnership with a fallen financial advisor. Others don't seem to come together, as in the last tale with three parts that don't appear connected or even stories. Generally, a collection of short stories will leave me feeling sated or unsatisfied, no in-between. Set in a different order, these stories could go either way, but the majority are satisfying as snippets of life.
DNF…I understand the style of the author is very simplistic yet catchy, loose but it flows, but that’s not enough for me. These were stories simply because they were written down and followed a structure, but there was no catch or flow that was stimulating enough for me. Forgive me if that makes me cliché, but this was boring as hell lmao
“Further Joy” by John Brandon is a tightly crafted, well-ranging set of short stories exploring sadness, growth and modern malaise. Set largely in rundown Florida, it takes us through a series of unconnected lives, occasionally veering into the fantastical.
The books’ standout is “Palatka,” which takes us into the life of a young woman for whom responsibility has curdled—and who reacts dangerously to the seeming disappearance of her neighbor. It’s a rich marriage of setting and character, drawing its suspense all the way past its conclusion.
As the story tells us early on, “Pauline felt a mothering urge toward Mal. She had never gone through a wild phase herself, and so Mal’s carelessness fascinated her—her carelessness about things such as nutrition and education, but more so her general carelessness with herself. She didn’t seem to realize that a cute young girl shouldn’t treat her body and soul like they were rented.” But the distance can’t last, as Pauline eventually explores her own carelessness, to fascinating results.
Other highlights from the collection include “The Midnight Gales,” which centers on a religious community organized around mysterious disappearances from the heavens, and “Further Joy,” which paints a composite portrait of a learning, yearning group of high school girls, a la “The Virgin Suicides.”
We also have “Estuary,” which introduces us to a nice guy getting older, someone who’s hit that new millennium wall. “The little city I was living in was a few towns north of Tampa and a few towns south of where I’d grown up,” he tells us. “People wound up here because no one else would have them, because there were already too many lawyers in better towns or too many pharmacists in better towns, because they couldn’t afford to retire in Naples, because, in rare instances, they were born here.” Later he concludes, “I felt like I was using up some kind of capital living with them, all the credit I’d accrued by conducting myself decently. I thought I deserved a soft place to crash because I’d always been fair and forthright. I’d never cheated anybody. I didn’t lie.” But while that all seems to be true, in the end it’s not quite enough.
Like any collection, “Further Joy” has its misses. I never bought the cross-generation seduction at the heart of “The Picnickers,” although the story was successful capturing motormouth, self-centered teen dialogue. Similarly, “Skybound” seemed more a collection of concepts than an actual story.
Brandon has a great voice, though, and a talent for distilling years of observations in a way that feels immediate and believable. He does good work on the outskirts of things, where rough folks fix their cars under lamplight and more genteel people occasionally feel the compulsion to tread.
Additional Quotes
The Midnight Gales
“Prizes are demeaning,” I tell him.
He stays with his thoughts a moment, still gazing upward, then he looks at me. “Who told you that? Is that your mom again?”
“No, my father. He says children are motivated by prizes. ‘If you do real good, I’ll give you a candy.’ He says that’s kids’ stuff. He says I already should’ve outgrown it.”
“Have you?”
“I think so,” I say. “He says if you’re an adult doing adult work, having someone pat you on the head in approval is patronizing.”
The guy nods. He presses his thumb against his front teeth. “It’s patronizing, but it’s also how you secure patronage.”
Palatka
“Best I can tell, you’re a levelheaded girl who likes to sip on a beer in the middle of the day because it makes you feel not so levelheaded. I wouldn’t say you’re happy, but you’ve managed not to have anything bad happen to you yet.”
Estuary
“People who fail a lot wind up with a bunch of new skills.”
Some writers, Denis Johnson and Russell Banks come to mind, seem to move effortlessly between the different types of fiction. Banks and Johnson both have have produced door stop sized books of enormous scope and power as well as short stories that were no less powerful in spite of their brevity. John Brandon, however, is not this type of writer. His novels, despite all being thoroughly different in theme, were largely interesting and well written. The short stories in "Further Joy" fail to go anywhere or elicit any response. Many of the stories mine the terrain of rural boredom and failure that Brandon explored in his novels "Arkansas" and "Citrus County" but without any of the success of his previous work. These stories read like excerpts from a larger book. Occasionally the characters start gaining momentum and a story takes shape, but then Brandon runs out of runway and the story just stops.
The stories with supernatural elements like "The Midnight Gales" and "The Differing Views" typify one of the more tiresome trends in contemporary short fiction. This trend involves the insertion of something bizarre or supernatural inserted into a story, but in an entirely pedestrian fashion. It's as if the writer is treating this bizarre element as a marker of creativity. I blame much of this on the success of the entirely mediocre Karen Russell. It's this sort of weak and cute that typically makes me dismiss anything issued under the McSweeney's imprint. It's a shame to see a writer as capable as Brandon succumbing.
Okay, I lied—I didn't actually finish this book. Two stories in I decided it wasn't really worth it. To be fair, this is a well-written book. Brandon has some interesting insights into human emotion and motivation, which is interesting at times in these stories. However, they are just so. darn. predictable. I love a certain element of suspense, but in Brandon's case, he draws out the "suspense" long after you've figured out where this is all going. So rather than being a page-turner, you're just skipping to the end because you already know what's going to happen, and can see he's just trying to bide his time with a little "suspense". I think for the most part I was reminded of BJ Novak's "One More Thing", because Brandon has the same sort of twisted wit about him. But I don't think it was nearly as successful as Novak's efforts. This could be a good read if it's your cup of tea and you don't mind the drawn out but obvious conclusions.
Remarkable collection from the author of Citrus County, A Million Heavens, and Arkansas. Brandon is a sure-handed storyteller with a wonderfully dry sense of humor and an affection for the psychologically troubled, the hard-luck, and the schemers. The characters will stick with you, like Marky, the entrepreneurial kid in "Prospectus" who drives around looking for investors in his "wood-framed chopper with angry bees painted all over it." I'm especially fond of the title story, which we published first in Saw Palm. There's also a story about a man stuck in a condo with seven brains. This is expertly-written, high-quality contemporary fiction. Highly recommended.
This is a difficult collection to rate - some 5-star, some 4, some 2 and 3 - but all infused with Brandon's engaging style. Basic stories about basic people with complicated lives trying to live simply. I have never lived in the South, but Brandon takes me there in this collection, as he does in his novels. Though this collection doesn't have the pulse of his previous books, there is enough here to keep you. It leaves me looking forward to his next collaboration with the always wonderful-to-hold McSweeney's.
I've never really read short stories, but this collection by John Brandon has inspired me to read more. His stories leave you hanging at the end, but in a good way. He actually came and spoke to my creative writing class this semester, and he said the reason he did that is because he didn't want the reader to completely catch up with him. He's a very nice guy, and a fabulous writer. A little on the dorky side, but that's totally fine! If you're into stories that make you think outside the box, rather than give you all the details, John Brandon's collection "Further Joy" is for you!
There are some excellent stories in this collection ('Palatka' was probably my favorite), but it's a bit uneven. I couldn't connect with some of the more experimental stuff, but then some of it was great. So I don't know. There's like 3/5 of a really good collection here.
What i like about John Brandon is how he creates these off-kilter characters and does strange things with them while still getting us to love them. Short stories didn't allow that affection grow at all, amounting to some boring stuff happening to people we don't care about.
Each of JB's works have a different cinematic lens but this collection felt gave me a nice young F Barthelme feel from the characterizations and settings.