Damn. I thought Bill’s other collection, HOUSES BURNING, was an emotional doozy, but his first book IN JUST THE RIGHT LIGHT really plunges its hands into your chest, digging through your skin and muscle and bone, until it wraps its hard fingers around your heart and squeezes it dry.
You want killer last lines? How about: “She thinks I’m back on the bottle. And with a growing dread that I’ll never be absolved, I begin to think that maybe I should be.”
Holy hell. This collections reads like the darker liner notes of Springsteen’s NEBRASKA that were too harsh to be included with the album. There is bleakness all around here. Mostly losers, with maybe the cautious optimism that they can win if they just have a little bit more cash, if they can get out of town, if they can find the right love. But what I love about Bill’s work is that he never treats his characters unfairly. They are just sad remains of circumstances. And they do the best they can with the shit hands they’ve been dealt their whole life.
I don’t think there’s a bad story here. Poetry, man. Poetry. Every story a knockout. But I specifically loved “Running” because the emotion absolutely tore my heart a knew one.
I know Bill through Twitter - he’s good people. Read my published stories and all I can say is that his work, and this book right here, is nothing short of a big influence of what I’m trying to do. Human stories that capture the wide range of our deeply flawed human condition: crime, addiction, murder, terrible kids, the spaces between us and the ones we love that can either be filled or become wider.
This book won’t be for everyone. If you like Donald Ray Pollack’s KNOCKEMSTIFF or THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME or Chris Offutt’s short stories or Bonnie Jo Campbell’s AMERICAN SALVAGE than this is for you. Bill has such an intense sense of place, that it also feels like a microcosm for the rest of rural American in our post-industrial world (Springsteen’s “Johnny 99” or “My Hometown,” anyone???) and there are always some of those people who get trapped in the wreckage, and have to carve out their own lives to survive. Or just get through another night. I fucking loved this.