What a terrific collection.
I’ve known Garnett since I first began teaching at Columbia College (Chicago) in the late 1980s. She ran the writing center and had a cooler-than-the-rest-of-us way of offering advice and a place to hang in a department with limited adjunct office space. And she was already a model of how to think about an academic career that spans teaching with staying creative.
So I walked into this expecting something good. And, when I say it’s even better than I expected, I mean that it’s as good as I imagined it would be but somehow more than that.
Throughout the collection, Garnett explores a range of character types, perspectives, structures, and voices. Each story is different when I think about how to describe it, yet they all fit a certain tone – the angle (generally) of someone who’s survived something but still wanting something. As the title says, there are ‘cravings’ throughout, but those cravings don’t define the individuals who have them, and they don’t overshadow everything else.
That is, these cravings aren’t “grotesques” in the way of Winesburg, Ohio’s characters – a book that the protagonist of “Ogden, Ohio” here finds inspirational in a place where she has a close call with a charismatic former high school crush who eventually threatens violence. Instead, they add dimension to each person, becoming one of many elements to define them.
I’m not sure what Garnett may have set herself as a formal goal in writing these (maybe I’ll get the chance to ask her) but I get the impression she was looking for characters who –in the midst of whatever else was going on – had some peculiar hunger or, well, craving.
Take the first story, “Hors d’oeuvres.” Cassie is a young girl who craves olives and pretzels so badly that she risks tightrope walking kitchen counters to find her parents’ stash. When she drops a jar of olives, it may or may not have affected (in her mind) her father’s fatal car crash. In a way that’s full of skill, Garnett takes us from that funny and excruciating scene to a larger lens on Cassie’s life. We see her life in full and recognize that peculiar scene as a footnote, yet it’s there always – not quite defining her but amplifying what we know of her.
Or “Noir.” Carl is something of an underachiever, at least in his wife Mary’s eyes. Their daughter Mary has a condition that will keep her from living beyond her 40s, and her medicines are cripplingly expensive. But he lacks the professional ambition to make as much money as he might. So, they’re heavily insured, and the ‘noir’ situation slowly emerges that he’s worth more dead than alive. The story opens with Mary dictating a suicide note that she expects him to write and sign. It’s there – if she finds a way to off him, it could solve their money woes.
But, and this is part of the joy of these stories where the ‘craving’ is part of the landscape without defining it, that possibility never does more than hover. Their lives go on, and Carl realizes he’s being tested. Or, in perhaps an even subtler gesture, he realizes Mary asked him to write the note only because she needed to test herself, to work through her own despair, and that she may no longer be thinking about any of it. It’s a glimpse of one path the couple may have traveled, a path striking enough for us to imagine it, but it doesn’t define their lives.
“Her Life in Parties” seems to be the inspiration for the striking cover image of a woman sitting in a pool outside an apartment party inside. Andrea is going to a book signing for her ex-boyfriend. She’s a modestly successful writer, and he’s just launched a book large enough for him to switch to full-time writing. She could and should be jealous, but she isn’t. Not quite. She processes the experience by recalling her ‘life in parties,’ the way they call on us to be a certain version of ourselves, to perform a public persona that is both real and exaggerated. So, we see her ‘life in parties’ as she navigates a difficult social challenge. She does it with grace, in what should be the absence of plot to a story. But, because Garnett gives such depth to her, the story is still quietly compelling.
And, in what may be the best story here – it’s really hard to say, I could nominate more than half of the 13 for that honor – we get “My Practice Life.” Our narrator has lost her husband young, and she has largely raised her niece. They bond over wondering about the nature of ‘life,’ about the random car accidents and cancers that can change so much, that have brought them together but that might have been different.
In the course of a surprisingly short story (as I look back on all that goes on it in), they eventually go to a ‘past lives’ seminar where she may or may not experience a former life. She’s left to wonder how much of what she has known is, as the title says, a ‘practice life,’ a way of experiencing the world that might have been different.
And, somehow, in keeping with the subtle skill we see throughout, Garnett lets us see that this experience doesn’t define her. It’s one way of thinking about her life, a life that we see telescoping from a small scene to her life in full, to an “after” that feels both lonely and fulfilling in the way she and her niece drift apart while still caring for each other.
Really, really good stuff. As I say, a terrific collection.