In The Piano Tuner , Peter Meinke writes of the foreignness that awaits us when we go abroad and when we answer our own front door to admit a stranger, that confronts us in unfamiliar cities and villages and in the equally disquieting surroundings of our memories and regrets.
Often in these stories, what seems a safe, comfortable environment turns suddenly threatening. In the title story, a writer's quiet existence amid his antiques and books is dismantled, piece by piece, by a demonic, beer-bellied piano tuner. In "The Ponoes," a man recalls how, as a young boy living in Brooklyn during World War II, he became a collaborationist in the brutal pranks of two Irish bullies. In "The Twisted River," the sedate collegiality of a Polish university is disrupted when an American on a Fulbright grant attempts to blackmail two faculty members. And in "The Bracelet," a young anthropology student doing field work in Africa finds herself drawn further and further into the role of a priestess of Oshun, into a life dictated by the configuration of cowry shells cast upon the floor.
Meinke writes of a world where our control over our lives seldom exists across a border, and often extends no further than our fingertips. Attempts to bridge two cultures, two lives are sometimes successful, as when an actor finds love in the arms of a tough-talking barmaid, but more usually lead to disillusionment, as when a hard-drinking salesman's career is shattered after he is drunk under the table one night by a Polish engineer, or when an English father struggles to find common ground with his American son. Riveting, almost terrifying, the stories in The Piano Tuner tell of decent men and women caught in events that they could never have predicted, would never have chosen.
A book of stories that I read probably a decade or more ago, when I was on a kick to read books of stories in my collection, this was one that stood out. Half of it consisted of stories set in the United States, and half of it consisted of stories set in foreign countries. It was the stories in the second half of the collection that made the book a keeper.
That's not to say there aren't some great stories in the book's first half. The title story, for instance, is a classic. A piano tuner shows up and takes over a man's house, a pushover of a man. But the horror of the takeover is what makes the story so enthralling, as the situation gets worse and worse.
The other real standout from the first half of the collection is "Losers Pay," about a group of young college men who decide to revenge the murder of the father of one of their posse. Here it's the voice, and the character of the man seeking vengeance, that makes the story so engaging, one that turns into a sad story as the object of vengeance turns out to be a rather underwhelming old man.
"Alice's Brother" is a neat piece, recounting a conversation between a man and his sister, a man, that is, who has lost his ability to speak and can now only confide in others yes and no answers.
But it is the second half of the book where the stories really shine. I would usually expect an author to write more convincingly about places he lived for most of his life than about places he visited or spent only a few years in. But for Meinke, it seems to be the opposite. The first two stories are about life in Soviet Russia, and they bring with them all the absurdities and sadness that comes from living in a totalitarian state. One involves a man who is discovered to be having an affair, and the other involves a professor who is outed as gay. It is in this second story that see how a man with an unrelated agenda can make the lives of others hellish when he doesn't get what he wants.
What works so well in these latter stories is often the emotional power that comes at their end. In "Sealink" a woman in Europe hits a sheep, and her discombobulation turns out to be much more than imagined. "The Starlings of Leicester Square" revolves around the unsuccessful reunion of a man and his estranged son. In "Winter Term" an exchange student in France goes to a late-night party and finds herself in circumstances far beyond what she would have ever intended. "The Water-Tree," while covering a familiar topic about Africa, namely corruption and crime, still manages to resonate, despite its predictable conclusion. And "The Bracelet," also set in Africa, details the life of a woman who slowly loses herself to a new exotic identity.
It is when Meinke puts his characters in unfamiliar surroundings that he is most successful. Perhaps that's because his best stories revolve around how people adapt to losing their comfort zone.