A collection of 39 stories in which every person, animal, tree, spoon, and stone is capable of burning with love and grief, losing itself in transports of joy and wonder, succumbing to illness, quaking with desire, and breaking and being broken by every other. David Rutschman is a Soto Zen priest and hospice grief counselor. His work has appeared in Forklift, Ohio; Kenyon Review Online; The Massachusetts Review; The Sun; Waxwing; Witness; and elsewhere. He lives in California with his wife and two young children. This is his first book.
I'm not quite sure what to call Rutchman's stories. Fabulist? Magical realism? Parables? Those descriptors fail to do justice to the intense humanness of the stories. It amazed me that stories populated by talking bears, pigs, birds, hens, and foxes could reveal so much about our humanity.
Rutchman uses strong, simple language to great effect. His words are completely economical and absolutely on target. Their cumulative effect in a story like "The Baby" is breathtaking and devastating. I'll be going back to these stories, both to mine their emotional depths again and perhaps to learn some things I can apply to my own short fiction.
Truly remarkable, a major work in a minor key. Spiritual -- some of the stories are like koans. Visceral -- the lives of hogs, jackals and roosters, the significance of dead dogs, dog turds. Beautiful, elusive prose. I keep reading passage aloud.
Every time I pick up a book of poems or short stories, I hope it will be this book. I'm glad this one finally was. I knew it had to be out there somewhere.
I don't think I've ever read a book twice in a row, but I had to read this twice.