Moral Encounters in Minneapolis
How could I never even have heard of Charles Baxter? The ten connected stories in this collection are wonderful: not spectacular or earth-shaking, but quietly satisfying. While built around a solid moral core, they are seldom predictable in the directions they take.
For example, consider the titles: Bravery, Loyalty, Chastity, Charity, Forbearance; Lust, Sloth, Avarice, Gluttony, and Vanity. Five virtues and five vices; the moral implications are clear. But the themes are seldom expressed directly, let alone in sermon fashion. The chastity in the story of that name is not sexual abstinence, but self-protective irony. The charity in the next story is surprising and beautiful, but it goes hand in hand with the death of love. "Lust" begins with almost its opposite—the denial of sex—but ends with one character telling dirty jokes to his dying friend to keep his spirits up. Perhaps gluttony is a contributing factor to the car accident suffered by another leading character, but its centerpiece is an excruciating interview with the evangelical parents of his son's girlfriend, who wonder what kind of upbringing would permit the young man to procure their daughter's abortion.
Besides the theme of virtue and vice, the stories are connected in several other ways. Although there are other locales—San Francisco, Tuscany, and Prague—all of them touch down at some point in Minneapolis (where the author teaches at the university). Many of the characters return in more than one story, sometimes in walk-on roles, occasionally as the protagonist of more than one. Dr. Elijah Elliott Jones, a successful pediatrician, is the central figure in three stories over a thirty-year span, and makes brief appearances in at least two more. His architect friend, Benny Takemitsu, has two stories of his own and another couple of references. Another character, Wesley—whose wife abandons him and their infant child, but returns years later, long after he has happily remarried—is also the center of several stories filled with the qualities of charity, compassion, and faith.
The only story that is not about one of these three may be one of the best. It features a translator struggling with a poem in an obscure extinct dialect that defeats her until the poet comes to her in a dream telling her to translate one of his other poems instead. She does so, and the translation becomes a beautiful eulogy for the death of her young niece (and yes, the pediatrician is Dr. Elijah Jones). The book jacket makes a lot of the fact that several stories are connected also by similar psychic experiences: Elijah's bride, for instance, is deeply affected by the prophecies of an old gypsy speaking to her in Czech, a language she should not understand, and Elijah himself, many years later, finds himself by the Mississippi at night sitting on a park bench between the ghosts of Alfred Hitchcock and Cary Grant. But I did not find these moments intrusive at all, more like spice seasoning a well-balanced dish. And I was halfway through the book before I noticed the title line, "There's something I want you to do," cropping up in several of the stories, if not all of them. The point is that it never comes in as a gimmick, but as a natural development of the characters and situation, though often signaling a twist that takes the story into deeper and yet more satisfying waters.