Shortly after the pandemic, I joined Stitch, a social group for people over 50 years old. I had no idea what to expect but as relative newcomer to Seattle from Colorado, I thought Stitch would be a safe way to meet people. They put me through a clever verification process. Only a few weeks after I joined, the invisible Stitch administrators (I think they’re all in Australia) recruited me to be a “Pioneer” and help the even newer members in Seattle. I started getting texts from strangers. One was from a retired doctor. Her litany of complaints was a Help Desk’s worst nightmare. In her jumbled text, I felt the heat of her anger and desperation. She was alone, abandoned by everyone. Her physical limitations made her unable to participate in any of the activities in Stitch. This woman’s bitterness shocked me. What could I do to help this stranger? I made a feeble offer to go visit her but she didn’t answer me. So I passed her off to the Stitch administrator in the cloud. But her pain haunted me and motivated me to think deeply about our social connections.
So the theme of this collection of short stories “Save Me Stranger” resonated with me. How do we relate to strangers in desperate need of help?
I first met Erika Krouse when I signed up for her writing class held in an after-hours coffee shop in South Boulder around ten years ago. I was struggling to write stories based tiny snippets I got from my tight-lipped Japanese parents. The gulf of silence between my immigrant parents and myself seemed impossible to fill. Erika was unfailingly encouraging and helpful as our small group shared writing every week at that empty coffee shop.
At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate Erika’s talent because she seemed so ordinary on the surface. A pleasant-looking, soft-spoken young woman who always had something good to say about everyone’s writing. I think in her own memoir “Tell Me Everything: The Story of a Private Investigation”, she describes herself as a mild, innocent-looking woman who invited trust and confession. The topics of her memoir were so unexpected and traumatic that I found it hard to believe one person could write such brutal stories and yet be so nice.
So for these reasons, I was excited when I began reading her story collection. I wasn’t disappointed. Her stories in this collection are strange, amazing and gut-wrenching. The settings range from Siberia to Tokyo to Colorado. Good short stories are concentrated versions of real life. And deal with the questions I have of my own life. Erika’s stories took my breath away and forced me to stop after each one to just recover.
The first story “The Pole of Cold” takes place in the coldest place on earth. A small town near the Arctic Circle where a beautiful young woman is the mayor in place of her father who was killed by wealthy foreigners. Then a handsome stranger arrives - to save her or himself? I loved the details of this fantastic world as much as the problems of the characters. How does one deal with a stranger who can save you yet is also responsible for hurting you? The unexpected ending saves this story from becoming just another fairy tale.
Erika said she originally began writing these stories after a fellow writer killed himself the day before they were to meet. In her shock and grief, she wondered if she could have done or said something that would have saved him. She wasn’t as close to him as were his family but she still felt guilty. “Save Me Stranger” stories are about people who save strangers in extraordinary situations. In an interview with Book Public, Erika says she asked herself, “What do we owe each other? What do I owe you as a human being?… Some people are black holes of need. … How do you preserve yourself and yet help others at the same time?”
I especially loved the story The Standing Man, a story about a Tokyo ramen shop worker and the exhausted gaijin (the foreigner) intrigued by the ramen shop’s secrets. Erika has lived in Japan for years as I have, so we share this fascinating bi-cultural perspective. She accurately captures the intense closeness that grows between strangers in a foreign setting. When I visited Tokyo last year, I had similar intense encounters with a Japanese taxi driver, my Turkish-Japanese Airbnb host and a young American digital nomad. Somehow being both an Outsider and Insider made it easier for me to connect.
During these troubled times, I often think about what I can do. I have no power, no money, no influence. I’m past the age of attracting notice and maybe even falling in love. My kids are grown and busy with their own lives. I’ve already travelled around the world. The future grows shorter while the past looms large. The voices of ghosts grow louder in my head. All I can do is write, work part-time and post activities in Stitch. Simple things like walks through the museum or Scrabble games.
Most of the characters in Erika’s stories have suffered some terrible loss. As I talk to the older men and women in Stitch, I find that many have also lost something. Friends. A spouse. A parent. Children. Their purpose in life. If I am able to do something, even inadvertently, like the characters in Erika’s stories, I feel like I am saving a stranger. The stranger who is in all of us.