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The Current That Carries: Stories
This collection bristles and hums with the rugged resilience one encounters in southern and Appalachian fiction where ghosts of loved ones and livestock alike haunt an underworld of lonely trails. Set in West Virginia, the stories take up residence with rural characters who defend their mailboxes against teenagers, bathe and feed their bedridden elders, and circle the inflated orbs of love and desire in high school gymnasiums. Whole lifetimes flare in an instant as characters scramble to sift through the past's wreckage to find some small miracle in the present.
If there is nostalgia, it's for a South without billboards, talk shows, and children with iPods dangling from their ears. It's for a South where you can go pick a ripe tomato to slice for the mayonnaise on your sandwich because you found time to plant a garden. And if there's grace, it is in the careful wading through a shifting current to reach possibilities snagged at the bottom of a trotline.
In lean, muscular prose, Lisa Graley pays homage to the daily chores that makeup a lifetime. With delicate precision, she renders the boundaries between fear and courage, indifference and compassion as thin as the blade of a shovel.
If there is nostalgia, it's for a South without billboards, talk shows, and children with iPods dangling from their ears. It's for a South where you can go pick a ripe tomato to slice for the mayonnaise on your sandwich because you found time to plant a garden. And if there's grace, it is in the careful wading through a shifting current to reach possibilities snagged at the bottom of a trotline.
In lean, muscular prose, Lisa Graley pays homage to the daily chores that makeup a lifetime. With delicate precision, she renders the boundaries between fear and courage, indifference and compassion as thin as the blade of a shovel.
- GenresShort Stories
176 pages, Unknown Binding
Published September 15, 2016
1 person is currently reading
26 people want to read
About the author
Lisa Graley
7 books1 followerA native of Sod, West Virginia, Lisa Graley is an assistant professor at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette where she teaches English and humanities. She has published in Glimmer Train Stories, Water~Stone Review, and The McNeese Review.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
August 20, 2016
After reading the first story in this book, set in West Virginia, for some strange reason Forrest Gump kept running through my mind. His box of chocolates quote, which fit these stories so well. Not to get all grumpish here but it is true you never know what you are going to get, and many of these stories sure surprised me.
The first story, which is also the title one, started a certain way and when a gun appeared the sense of violence was palpable. I was sure I knew where this was going. I didn't, the author turns this story on its head and resolves it in a totally unexpected way. The same with the second story, a drowning and a young boy involved. Another one I had thoughts about that turned out wrong. Another story that really made me think was called feeding instructions and it is not an easy read but the last lines were so spot on that I thought of it days later. Another difficult story concerns the death of two dogs, beloved by their owner and is all about grief. Has some beautiful lines, about how difficult it is to get inside another person's grief, no matter how much we try.
Only eight stories but so worth the reading time. Neighbors and family, caring and loss, people taking care of people, responsibility to family, friends. Quite amazing.
The first story, which is also the title one, started a certain way and when a gun appeared the sense of violence was palpable. I was sure I knew where this was going. I didn't, the author turns this story on its head and resolves it in a totally unexpected way. The same with the second story, a drowning and a young boy involved. Another one I had thoughts about that turned out wrong. Another story that really made me think was called feeding instructions and it is not an easy read but the last lines were so spot on that I thought of it days later. Another difficult story concerns the death of two dogs, beloved by their owner and is all about grief. Has some beautiful lines, about how difficult it is to get inside another person's grief, no matter how much we try.
Only eight stories but so worth the reading time. Neighbors and family, caring and loss, people taking care of people, responsibility to family, friends. Quite amazing.
July 14, 2016
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“I wanted and wanted and couldn’t have told you for all the world what exactly I wanted. Yet it wrung me, on spin cycle. It was dreadful to be under the pull of such strong currents.”
This is a collection of stories that flow through the lives of the young and old alike. They are not warm and fuzzy but sweet within their dreadful sadness. What happens to people aren’t mind blowing explosions of thrills but the things that burden so many of us, or are waiting to. Of all the stories, I was most moved by Feeding Instructions. The slow decline of a loved one, the struggles caretakers face, and Mommaw (Myrtle) – how can you not feel tied to Mommaw? “When she was in motion, it was hard to stop her.” That line hit me with memories of an elderly man with alzheimer’s that I sometimes cared for back in my home health care days. Like Mommaw, when he had a mind to venture off, he would get to where he wanted no matter the barriers. We move with the days and memories, watching as the elderly make old motions to jobs they once did. “When you see something so familiar, so ingrained in them, surfacing like that at the end, it breaks your heart.” All the old motions that circle each of our lives, the loved ones we forget have died only to wake with a fuzzy memory to re-live that pain fresh because we have to be told all we’ve lost… this waits for many of us, this terrible forgetting. I sank into the bed with Mommaw, and I stood at her side as June too because we could so easily be both. We are strong for a time and we are fragile, life has seasons none of us can escape. You too will one day bruise easy to the touch, your mind might remain sharp as a tack, if you’re lucky, but you too will need to be reminded of things. Graley writes beautifully about Mommaw, it made me weepy. “You’ll see her mouth open- it’s like a shy baby bird’s mouth- innocent, trying it’s best, trying to please you. It’ll make you feel low. She opens her mouth because you’re upset, and some part of her is moved by that. Can you see the effort it takes? In those moments, you know, deep in your heart, she’s doing her best.” Watching a loved one slowly die, particularly when they are seemingly cursed with silence, unable to tell you what they need, somehow there is in those moments communion stronger than any words. I am not sure many young people will read the same story those of us ‘seasoned folk’ will. No matter, one day they will.
Marlie and her father Russell’s story Heartwood asks a lot of questions of a parent’s love. It doesn’t beat you over the head with right nor wrong, but it certainly begs the question ‘what is unconditional love’? If from no one else, in a perfect world we should have that for our children and maybe ourselves too. It’s quiet, but I caught my breath, not because the subject is shocking in this day but the struggle for Marlie and her father told during wood chopping is like a stone in the heart. How Marlie chose to confide in her father things she needs to, broke my heart, the feelers she puts out… his reaction… well it’s beautiful at the end. It is.
Without going into every story, from drownings, infatuation, hunger, dying… it’s here. I was moved by the little boy who is caught up in tragedy. How a life for another causes grieving people to overstep their place. “We don’t have the shine of the Shamblin set. But we’re not toothless and scraggly and lopsided neither.” I am much reminded of Flannery O’Connor’s writing.
“He was breathing hard, like panting. It was like an over-friendly dog, insistent on being rubbed, always nudging your hand even when you were ready to stop. Sometimes you just wanted the dog to lie there, wait for you to make up your mind to give it attention. You wanted to meet it on your own terms.” Oh my, what woman cannot laugh and cringe a bit at that writing about an overeager boy’s attentions? We lived it, didn’t we? In the pawing, the hungry boys that seemed to forget themselves, that forgot about our presence altogether and let their lust take over? The experiences Phoebe has with Seth, I can honestly say most women have been there at least once in her life. The cruel rejections a young girl faces for slowing things down are something true in any generation.
A beautiful collection, and certainly one that takes it’s time with you, like a summer evening. I found the telling engaging and the writing beautiful. I love southern fiction, just adore it. I don’t think just anyone can write about it, Lisa Graley made me believe these are living breathing people. They are people I know, solid and full of heart.
University of Georgia Press
Public Release Date: September 15, 2016
“I wanted and wanted and couldn’t have told you for all the world what exactly I wanted. Yet it wrung me, on spin cycle. It was dreadful to be under the pull of such strong currents.”
This is a collection of stories that flow through the lives of the young and old alike. They are not warm and fuzzy but sweet within their dreadful sadness. What happens to people aren’t mind blowing explosions of thrills but the things that burden so many of us, or are waiting to. Of all the stories, I was most moved by Feeding Instructions. The slow decline of a loved one, the struggles caretakers face, and Mommaw (Myrtle) – how can you not feel tied to Mommaw? “When she was in motion, it was hard to stop her.” That line hit me with memories of an elderly man with alzheimer’s that I sometimes cared for back in my home health care days. Like Mommaw, when he had a mind to venture off, he would get to where he wanted no matter the barriers. We move with the days and memories, watching as the elderly make old motions to jobs they once did. “When you see something so familiar, so ingrained in them, surfacing like that at the end, it breaks your heart.” All the old motions that circle each of our lives, the loved ones we forget have died only to wake with a fuzzy memory to re-live that pain fresh because we have to be told all we’ve lost… this waits for many of us, this terrible forgetting. I sank into the bed with Mommaw, and I stood at her side as June too because we could so easily be both. We are strong for a time and we are fragile, life has seasons none of us can escape. You too will one day bruise easy to the touch, your mind might remain sharp as a tack, if you’re lucky, but you too will need to be reminded of things. Graley writes beautifully about Mommaw, it made me weepy. “You’ll see her mouth open- it’s like a shy baby bird’s mouth- innocent, trying it’s best, trying to please you. It’ll make you feel low. She opens her mouth because you’re upset, and some part of her is moved by that. Can you see the effort it takes? In those moments, you know, deep in your heart, she’s doing her best.” Watching a loved one slowly die, particularly when they are seemingly cursed with silence, unable to tell you what they need, somehow there is in those moments communion stronger than any words. I am not sure many young people will read the same story those of us ‘seasoned folk’ will. No matter, one day they will.
Marlie and her father Russell’s story Heartwood asks a lot of questions of a parent’s love. It doesn’t beat you over the head with right nor wrong, but it certainly begs the question ‘what is unconditional love’? If from no one else, in a perfect world we should have that for our children and maybe ourselves too. It’s quiet, but I caught my breath, not because the subject is shocking in this day but the struggle for Marlie and her father told during wood chopping is like a stone in the heart. How Marlie chose to confide in her father things she needs to, broke my heart, the feelers she puts out… his reaction… well it’s beautiful at the end. It is.
Without going into every story, from drownings, infatuation, hunger, dying… it’s here. I was moved by the little boy who is caught up in tragedy. How a life for another causes grieving people to overstep their place. “We don’t have the shine of the Shamblin set. But we’re not toothless and scraggly and lopsided neither.” I am much reminded of Flannery O’Connor’s writing.
“He was breathing hard, like panting. It was like an over-friendly dog, insistent on being rubbed, always nudging your hand even when you were ready to stop. Sometimes you just wanted the dog to lie there, wait for you to make up your mind to give it attention. You wanted to meet it on your own terms.” Oh my, what woman cannot laugh and cringe a bit at that writing about an overeager boy’s attentions? We lived it, didn’t we? In the pawing, the hungry boys that seemed to forget themselves, that forgot about our presence altogether and let their lust take over? The experiences Phoebe has with Seth, I can honestly say most women have been there at least once in her life. The cruel rejections a young girl faces for slowing things down are something true in any generation.
A beautiful collection, and certainly one that takes it’s time with you, like a summer evening. I found the telling engaging and the writing beautiful. I love southern fiction, just adore it. I don’t think just anyone can write about it, Lisa Graley made me believe these are living breathing people. They are people I know, solid and full of heart.
University of Georgia Press
Public Release Date: September 15, 2016
March 28, 2018
The Current That Carries is an award-winning collection of short stories written by Lisa Graley. I wasn’t sure quite what to expect when I opened up this book, but what I found was a refreshing view into the lives of rural folks living in West Virginia. The stories are very realistic and descriptive, which made me feel like I was peeking through a window and glimpsing actual moments of each character’s life.
My favorite stories were “Vandalism” and “Heartwood.” In the former, a rowdy group of teenage boys get their kicks by causing mischief in town. One day, Denzil decides to put them in their place and foil their fun; however, the situation becomes complicated when he discovers his own grandson is part of the group. In the latter, a young woman named Marlie goes home to visit her parents. Being a total daddy’s girl, she helps out with chores around the house. The bond between daughter and father, though, is tested when she unexpectedly opens up about her marriage difficulties and her struggle with gender identity.
Overall, I liked how each story featured characters dealing with relatable, real-life problems. From heartbreak and grief to love and family ties, a wide variety of topics were explored. This book makes for a great read during a long summer’s evening, and it certainly holds a distinct place in the southern fiction genre.
My favorite stories were “Vandalism” and “Heartwood.” In the former, a rowdy group of teenage boys get their kicks by causing mischief in town. One day, Denzil decides to put them in their place and foil their fun; however, the situation becomes complicated when he discovers his own grandson is part of the group. In the latter, a young woman named Marlie goes home to visit her parents. Being a total daddy’s girl, she helps out with chores around the house. The bond between daughter and father, though, is tested when she unexpectedly opens up about her marriage difficulties and her struggle with gender identity.
Overall, I liked how each story featured characters dealing with relatable, real-life problems. From heartbreak and grief to love and family ties, a wide variety of topics were explored. This book makes for a great read during a long summer’s evening, and it certainly holds a distinct place in the southern fiction genre.
June 10, 2018
2015 Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews