In Taking Down the Moon, Lisa Muir has gathered an eccentric cast of characters - animals, beauty queens and community college teachers just to name a few - and placed them in such far flung places as Nevada's Fire Valley, New Zealand and the western mountains of North Carolina. At first, the stories appear to be straightforward, but we quickly learn nothing in Muir's world is ever as it seems. With What Remains, a grieving widow finds closure in her husband's secret life, taking a familiar plot to an altogether different territory. You Can't Collect Time tells the unusual tale of a young woman, her suitor, her birds and her transformation. Each story weaves its own tale of discovery, loss and independence, surprising the reader along the way. Both whimsical and unsettling, Taking Down the Moon's absurd, rustic and surreal stories illuminate the magical quality of the most ordinary moments.
These stories brought me to the borders of another world but always stayed true to the fictional constraints of this one. Memorable characters and convincing language make for compelling reading--not one story was weak, though I had my favorite in "Albatross." I could have been imagining things also, but it seemed that Lisa Muir invites in her stories suggestions to other writers she has loved. I sensed Flannery O'Connor behind "Valley of Fire," Tobias Wolf behind "Cooper Ridge," and Emily Dickenson behind the collections final story, "The Door." Muir is a writer based in West Virginia, but these stories are set in many different places, from New Zeeland to Nevada. I highly recommend this collection.
The stories in Lisa Muir’s collection Taking Down the Moon are “portals” to a world vibrating with realism and surrealism. These stories chronicle life’s thousand, painful cuts as well as the sublime, the strange, the surreal— a type of fictional sleight of hand exemplified in its title story, which depicts a mother reaching through a window pane to grasp the “dazzling blaze” of the moon. The familiar world is observed with surrealism-inducing sensitivity, emblematic in how the green depths of a mountain ravine are “in constant motion” in the story “The Box from Oz.” When the lonely child at the center of the story is finally beguiled to explore the bottom of the ravine by “a real boy, practically illuminated by a single beam of sunshine,” his journey into those rhododendrons is also a journey into a reality altered by yearning.
Muir’s characters inhabit thwarted worlds, often functioning as figurants in the lives of others, but, vibrantly singular within the God’s eye gaze of her third-person perspective. These characters exist like the glimpses of bright plumage in the paintings of the character Lanie, though she, like so many of us, not only can’t escape her cage but has lost the will to do so. In the story “What Remains,” the character Tom (an actual spook, as his wife discovers after his death), doomed by pancreatic cancer, questions the doctor with “an anemic smile of artificial courage.” Like Tom, we all must eventually confront this “message heralding its existence,” swooping in on us like the “expansive white underside” of the albatross, “so white against the colorless background,” in the story by the same name. The mother Nadine, in the story “Essa,” is described— with a George Eliot-like philosophic sensitivity—as destined to “painfully lose what was not hers bit by bit over time as her daughter constructed herself. By the time Essa was to leave, Nadine was incapable of recognizing that she had cultivated no spirit of her own.” This story takes place in the almost-Eden of the foothills town of Ethan, where her motherhood began by finding the baby Essa among “errant tiger lilies,” a flower Nadine seeks “though they would bloom only a day.”
These stories call to mind Zora Neal Hurston’s maxim at the beginning of Their Eyes Were Watching God: “Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board,” and the collection does begin with a nod to “the resurrected oyster knife” of Hurston, before cracking open the tender, raw characters who want to believe life contains “jeweled vessels … found and lost, and then found again in new forms … if you dreamed forward enough.” These characters are “just on the sad side of the note” but they have visions of a heaven “accessible through a door, no permeable grand gate” where angels have wings “structured and functional … not for flying exactly, but likely hovering and floating” and, with a Dickinsonian precision, clouds stabilized by “a series of wood planks, visually vast and widely strewn in some sort of godly but systematic manner.”
The characters of Taking Down the Moon inhabit such imagined structures of evocative particularity—desert trailers, wind-buffeted mountain mansions, the eternally damp and cold apartments of failed love—spaces readers also inhabit, disbelief and time suspended for the duration of a story, where “in dreams there are a thousand years.”
I was not very interested in “Taking Down the Moon” at first because I typically read science fiction, adventure, and non-fiction books. I decided to take a chance on Taking Down the Moon after attending a reading by the author. The author, Lisa Muir, read “Lottie’s Cave Road.” I was enraptured by her reading and the tale she wove of survival and loss. I found myself captivated, shocked and in awe, so much so that I had to be prompted into applause at the end (in fact, the whole crowd had too). The story is simply powerful. After I read the book, I found I enjoyed if far more than I thought I would. “Vanilla Tuna” is a wonderful and amusing play script that I enjoyed seeing portrayed live by the author as well. I was happy to have a copy of it for myself. “Lottie’s Cave Road,” as stated before, is powerful and moving as you scream right along with Lottie in the end. The title story, “Taking Down the Moon,” is a beautiful expression of every child’s naive, yet darling, vision of their parents before they understand that even their parents are flawed. Each story is able to offer a different type of personal and relatable event and set of emotions. The people are identifiable, many charming, and easily imagined in the streets of our own reality. Lisa Muir’s voice is unique and challenging, which only piques my interest every time I read her stories again. My favorite part of her book is how each story has a unique and yet chilling twist. They feel so devoid and so intense, and yet fit so perfectly into each story that it’s impossible to envision any other possibilities for those stories. They are uniquely their own.
This debut short-story collection from Lisa Muir is a delight. I encourage you to read the entire thing, but here I will highlight my favorite stories.
“Albatross” A couple go on holiday in New Zealand, but the man is more concerned with his next teaching position than the relationship. Alone, the woman ventures out to see the sights, including the Royal Albatross Centre. There she observes the lonely birds and draws uncanny parallels to her own life.
“Taking Down the Moon” The titular story is one of the shorter stories, but no less poignant for it. A mother would do anything in her power, and more, for love of her child.
“The Box from Oz” A boy moves to a new place and finds a friend and a purpose with the most unlikely of objects.
All of these stories can be read on their own, though the pervading theme is isolation and loneliness, even when involved in relationships. At first, Muir’s characters are afraid or self-conscious of their solitary status but, throughout the stories’ events, come to a certain understanding and comfort with it--even a little bit of pride in some instances. The descriptions of environs in the longer stories are thick with detail and imagery. Muir excels at placing the reader into the story--in “Albatross” especially, I felt the cold and the emotional and physical isolation keenly.
I really enjoyed this collection and I look forward to more by this author.
The best way I can describe my experience reading Taking Down the Moon is to relate it to being on a road trip. Looking out your window, you see foreign landscapes, small town and cities, houses and other cars, each containing people who are also experiencing life. You may stop for gas and have a conversation with the clerk or have lunch and speak with the waitress. Then you will leave. They will continue leading lives of their own, but in your mind they exist only as possibility, their futures only your speculation. Each story gave a glimpse into a character's soul and setting, and because they simply felt so real, it is easy to imagine their continued lives after the story ends.
Though each story was unrelated, the tone and theme varying greatly at times, I noticed a thread of loneliness woven throughout the collection, highlighted strongest in "Albatross" and "The Box from Oz," but also present in Lanie's emotionally distant social "bribery" of baked goods and Nadine's absent identity. This collection feels complete, for lack of a better adjective. With some short story collections, I have felt the need to clear my mind after each story, as the individual tales did not feel right together; however, with Taking Down the Moon, the reading experience seemed aided by the mood created by the preceding story, making it a cohesive compilation.
My favorites were probably "Cooper Ridge" and "The Door."
Anyone serious about the craft of writing short stories should get to know Muir's work intimately.
Each story in this powerful and soulful collection is a mini work of art. Muir writes with such authenticity and authority, taking readers inside the souls of her unforgettable characters and the places they inhabit. Setting is practically a character in each story, and Muir writes with equal authenticity about places as diverse as the mountains of North Carolina, Nevada, and New Zealand.
In particular, "The Door," "Valley of Fire," and "Albatross" knocked the wind out of me - I cannot get them out of my head, nor do I want to.
TAKING DOWN THE MOON is some of the most compelling and beautiful evidence for the short story's essential role in literature - and our world - today.
This collection should be taught in every creative writing course.
Distinctive Characters - Great Short Story Collection
I was hooked from the first sentence in this eclectic book of short stories : "She needed someone to die to stop eating." The book contains an assortment of memorable characters ranging from Lanie whose birds fly freely in the house so that feathers show up in her baked items, to Benjamin and Jake whose "box from Oz" is actually a discarded septic tank. There is humor and mystery in this book as well. Enjoy!
Lisa was selling her books at the App State Bookstore and caught my attention. After a few minutes I decided to buy the book even if I never read it. I'm glad I read the book. This book contains a collection of short stories that are a bit kooky and off base, but damn fun to read. My favorite is The Door, I'm sure that story will haunt me for days to come.
Lisa Muir's Taking Down the Moon is a delight. Muir provides an assembly of quirky characters who experience loss, choose loss, have loss followed by betrayal, and also gain in fascinating ways. The individuals assembled are magnificently quirky and Muir's dark humor reigns throughout. The stories in this volume demonstrate incredible range and leave the reader satisfied from cover to cover. Muir causes us to contemplate various possibilities for her characters, reflect on ourselves, and laugh out loud.
There are so many great stories to choose from in this book. The characters are interesting and so different from story to story. I love the way Muir takes on different genres within the book. The title story Taking Down the Moon is magical and fantastic giving way to elements of the fantasy/speculative genre. Where as another story gives elements of folklore. Muir's book shows a range and quality from story to story that readers will have multiple favorites. I know I did. Great writing, fully developed characters, intriguing situations.