Pieces Like Pottery by Dan Buri (DBJ Publishing) is a collection of short stories, all touching on varying degrees of injustice, suffering, and self-sabotage. Existential in tone, cruel, tragedy, pain, and loss weave frequently in and out of the prose in the 179-page book. Readers journey through the unbearable heartbreak of a son’s death, other instances of child neglect and abuse, and comparable trauma inflicted on the defenseless. Are these episodes contained in ten separate clay pots, frothing over in arbitrary tragedy? Or are the pieces indeed smashed shards of anguished aimless lives? Though the reader is never told, we wonder, do these lives carry on intact, or will they be permanently shattered, and drifting?
Pottery reads very much like a random chapter from Ordinary People, the tragic Judith Guest novel, touching on similar themes. But unlike the Guest novel, Pottery, with few exceptions, never reveals what impact tragedy had on each character’s life.
Lisa and Mike cling to their dead son through latent blog posts, only to part when the blogs ceased. Buri reveals that the couple’s relationship had never gelled and their only child, conceived with great difficulty provided the only link. The marriage was doomed from the start. In another tale, The Dominance of Nurture, a father and his developmentally disabled son grieve a mother’s suicide, her death effected by hopeless guilt over the boy’s condition. Here again, in the triangle of family, a member withdraws leaving the survivors to somehow pick up the Pieces. When, in the story Father, Catholic priest, Michael Birch attempts to fill in for a parishioners jailed father, his reputation is trampled by unsubstantiated, and malicious gossip. These trials of inexplicable tragedy define the lives of these characters, and others central in further chapters.
The theme of hopeless futility colors the ten stories contained in “Pottery.” Very few individuals rise above the Job-ian condition each struggles against. Like the oft repeated beverage in Pieces, the “Arnold Palmer,” these characters’ cope with the sweet and sour duality that defines their painful existence. Most clear reading Buri’s work, rests the idea that nothing in life can be controlled, the universe holds no rational order. Father’s desert families, good people die of cancer, children are beaten or die in accidents. Nothing to be done about it. A tall, beautiful oak, as explained in The Ballad of Love and Hate, crashes down from rotten soil, through no fault of the acorn.
Now, putting aside the themes of loss and sorrow, Pieces of Pottery is a beautifully written book. Buri proves quite adept at vivid descriptions and internal narratives. “Colors bellowed boldly,” from Father, evokes the bracing sense of a brilliant autumn day. “Calculated purgatory” clarifies the mind-numbing schedule of a dock worker in Twenty Two. Later in the same story Buri characterizes the empty existence of the guilt-ridden dockworker writing he, “never missed a day, but he never truly arrived.” Mr. Buri wields a flowing pen.
However, the subject matter of unrelenting pain, unendurable suffering, and life-changing tragedy, slogging on page after page makes for a tough read. For example, Mr. Smith, who appears twice in the book, (in reverse sequence of his life,) may be the most well-adjusted, and easiest to digest as a character. Though tested by marital issues and his later battle with cancer, he exhibits a life affirming quality lacking in other central characters. Despite his personal difficulties, the teacher, Al Smith still held on to his sense of wonder, and goodness. Even in the face of his own death, he can encourage his visitor, James in Expect Dragons to still hope and remain open to life’s value. Father Michael, the second healthiest of the figures in the book, ends up sidelined by an evil over which he has no control, but probably can overcome.
Pieces Like Pottery is a difficult, but lovely book. Punctuated with Buri’s introspective poetry, a slow, simmering pathos replays in ten separate entries, composed with intuitive and stunning language. If readers want to journey through unmanageable catastrophe, and injustice, without real resolution, Pottery is the book for you.
Review by Gail Chumbley, author of River of January, Point Rider Publishing.