"No one has ever said that life is to be easy, only that it is to be lived." Alistair MacLeod casually drops this observation in the final story "The Road to Rankin's Point." First, the reader is struck by its simplicity, next by its profundity, and lastly by the possibility that it is neither simple nor profound, but rather merely a summation. Whether of life or anthology, the question of attribution I shall leave in your hands.
MacLeod's writing floored me. His competency and use of language is authentic, sound, and beautiful. All of these stories possess a singular driving will, yet share the common taste of salt, earth, blood, and loss. I highly recommend reading this for the writing. The stories are good, some are great, but it is the writing that suspends time and unmoors the reader from earthly bonds.
The setting? A stony wind-torn Cape Breton and Nova Scotia. Snow, ice, an indifferent sea, loss, lighthouse keepers, miners, farmers, and fishermen pervade these stories. Life, death, and the inevitability of change are constant companions. So too is the repeating theme of semen, both that of man and animal. I suspect it is to offset the stroke of the Reaper's scythe, but I found the constant references to ejaculation a bit forced and at times, awkward. It never crossed into lewdness, but it does flirt with a redundancy that I imagine is intentional. And if so, I felt the volume of ejaculate was unnecessary.
The two stories that stood out the most to me:
* "In the Fall" (This story made me cry)
* "To Everything there is A Season"
Edited to add:
I just now noticed, after having written and posted my review, that another reviewer used the quotation with which I began my review. I find it amusing that we both clung to this quote.