I'm beginning to believe Percival Everett knows everything there is to know about being a human. And his ways of expressing it astound me. Damned if I Do, a short story anthology, is my fourth Everett book and it is just as unique as the three novels I've recently read, and within it, the stories are each unique animals. I wrote the following briefs immediately after reading each story:
In the first short story, "The Fix," which could have been written by Shirley Jackson, I felt the full weight of our neediness. It was strange to feel such a crushing weight and, at the same time, relief at having it dramatized and exposed.
There is no way to describe "House" without spoiling it. Different people will understand or not understand it differently. But for me it is a dark expression of our helplessness to control or stop this dream we call life. Enough said.
"Alluvial Deposits" is a slice-of-life Western story about the separation between people.
"True Romance" was a true romance, but it has nothing to do with lovey-dovey stuff. It was a loner ranch guy's story. To say more would ruin it, and I love it so much it is requiring all my self-control to shut up. If you are a writer, I predict you will be in love with this story. If you are a reader only, maybe you too, but I could be wrong. For me, it embodies all my writer's longing for purity, and the fantastic ending is the fantasy victory over all that corrupts. I had to stop reading after this one; I needed savoring time before imbibing more.
I read the title "Age Would Be That Does" repeatedly. I tried it backwards and still can't make sense out of it. If somebody else reads this story and understands the title, please enlighten me. Despite my bafflement, I had no problems with the story about two aging men who keep each other going. Lovely.
"The Appropriation of Cultures" settles it for me: Percival Everett is a genius. By the end I realized I'd been mouth-breathing, practically panting, for the entire story. This is positively brilliant. I nominate Percival Everett for President of the United States!
In "Warm and Nicely Buried," a body disappears, cops look for it, and resolve the mystery. But this is really a slice-of-life mood story more than a whodunit. It works well coming after "The Appropriation of Cultures" which has such a solid plot. Right pace, right feel. Boy, this collection is well done.
Three cowboy types and a horse occupy "Afraid of the Dark." It's another slice of life, but the title gives you a metaphor to think about.
"Epigenesis." I had epigenesis mixed up with epigenetics. After looking it up, I understand the story better. According to Wikipedia, it is the "process by which plants, animals and fungi develop from a seed, spore or egg through a sequence of steps in which cells differentiate and organs form." There is also a character named Alan Turing who is not the guy who developed computers and coding. "Epigenesis" is a fish tale about a guy in a midlife crisis. Yes, there's a talking fish for part of it. And there is development of character equivalent to epigenesis. I like this story, and I suspect if I let it silently grow inside me without talking about it, it will develop into a love organ.
I can't understand a word of the very short graphic (yes, there are pictures) short story "The Devolution of Nuclear Associability," except to say that it has something to do with our complete inability to express what we mean. And it made me laugh.
"The Last Heat of the Summer" starts like a nostalgic tale of boys' youth—the kind of thing Stephen King writes without horror. You have no idea what's coming. Is this a story out of sequence? Is this real? It feels like an ancient folktale, retold for now. One must be attuned to metaphor for this writing. I am. I was. And therefore I recognize myself here. I'm glad I'm willing to admit that.
Mostly in my life I've done the right thing. This is not only because I have a moral code that directs me, but it is also a sense that doing the wrong thing can be a slippery slope with no return. Doing the right thing is pleasurable to me, but I gave vent to the consequently repressed inner wrongdoer in my last novel, and it was euphoric. In the last story of this anthology, "Randall Randall," Percival Everett writes the worst nightmare of this bad choice slide for an ordinary pissed-off person—just like most of us. I never thought of this kind of story. I'm glad he did.
The guy can write!