The phrase ‘dream-like’ in relation to a work of fiction, particularly speculative fiction, is invoked with such regularity as to be rendered almost meaningless. Nevertheless it is the first thing I think of when it comes to describing Jeffrey Ford’s wonderful new collection of short stories, The Drowned Life.
So many stories here contain the cock-eyed logic, sense of menace, dissolution of firm boundaries and Daliesque suspension of the laws of science, that it seems as if Ford has perfect recall of his own nightly journeys and the requisite craft to bring these dark children into the waking day world.
Here are some of the examples of the unsettling, weirdly beautiful and nightmarish scenarios Ford has on display here:
‘The Drowned Life’ The title track of the album. An under water city exists side by side with our chaotic earth; it is a repository of lost souls, a place one goes to when one has given up. A husband and father decides to descend to this world when life becomes too hard to handle. Down below there is a crazy, ghostly version of the life above, populated with shambling half-humans in varying degrees of decay, living lives that are desperate and futile echoes of their previous fuller existences. The man realizes his mistake and plots his escape via underwater pay phone with his truculent son above.
‘The Night Whiskey’ A rare drink is made from a berry that grows in one town only. When drank people get to visit the realm of the dead where they can converse with the beloved and not so beloved departed. After these visits the ritually chosen drinkers are left so depleted and docile that they must be collected from tree branches with long poles.
‘The Dismantled Invention of Fate’ An astronaut meets a beautiful alien and they fall in love. She does or does not die tragically. Their long and loving life is or isn’t an imagination of her dying brain. They are reunited or not through a device of such complexity that Rube Goldberg would be slack-jawed.
‘The Way He does it’ A magician performs a signature trick that is never described except for it’s effect on those who view it. To some the trick is so obscene that they despise him to others it is so sublimely beautiful, so utterly transcendent that they are left teary-eyed and transformed.
There are over a dozen tales here, all worth reading, and I will mention two more only because of their utter lack of the fantastic underscores how good Ford is: 1)Present from the Past- a straight forward story of a family coping with a mother’s terminal cancer, touching in it’s details, spot on in it’s delineations of the ritual roles adult children assume in catastrophe. 2) The Bedroom Light-about a couple huddled in bed together before they sleep, on the night when a woman suffered a miscarriage. They imagine various things about the denizens of their apartment complex. It’s a subtly sweet little story filled with every day grace and regret that most literary writers would give up small portions of their bodies to have written.
Ford’s work, while filled with crazy, foreboding and whimsical fantastical elements are also firmly rooted in reality. So many of these stories contain the salt of the earth drinking and smoking folks that a Steinbeck might have chronicled-ratty low-end middle class people that would fit right in a Roseanne episode or a Raymond Carver story. You never doubt for a moment that real people, wounded and beautiful, fucked-up and fine, are being impacted by the crazy shit that Ford conceives for them.
Ford’s wonderful veracity of humble human character is what makes the vastness of his imagination shine even brighter, the utter uniqueness of his scary visions more visceral and compelling. By unloading his cornucopia of nightmare and dreamscapes down in the vale of every day struggle to get by existence he makes you feel a depth of emotion and tug of empathy you wouldn’t usually get from more ethereal fantasy collections. A classic of it’s kind, and a rarity too-highly recommended for dreamers, readers and lovers of the dark.