This collection of short fiction aims to define the sometimes indefinable and to give voice to those struggling to make sense of what life throws at them. There are those who travel in a continuous loop on London's underground and those who dance at night with the departed. A woman confronts herself in a bedroom mirror after decades of denial and a window finds comfort in an osteopath's consulting room. and then there is a strange creature who falls to earth; dreams and portents; crows and folklore, and much more.
3.5 I can't tell whether these stories just merely have overlapping details (such as how characters take their tea, where they stay, or events in their life) or if these stores are all the same couple/family; either at different points in their life or in different universes.
Either way, this collection is undeniably about loss, in many forms. I found this to be a pretty solid collection and I really enjoyed it. I caught myself feeling with and for the characters even in a short space of time, which is impressive, but I was brought out of the narratives because there were quite a few errors in the writing (a rogue 'and' in the middle of the sentence that made no sense, using 'your' instead of 'you') and I had to read a few things again to realize what was meant to be portrayed. This may be because it is a fairly recent print, but it still unfortunately affected the reading experience for me.
Unseen and unheard: the fate of the older woman though the ages. Flesh that is sagging, minds worn down by experience and yet, there is a place beyond those surface level expectations Jane Fraser’s superb collection of short stories forces us to engage with. A satisfying dive into the unexpected, the beautiful and the poignant, these vivid snapshots of the marvellously mundane, are also framed by the fabulously fantastical.
By connecting us to characters we’d not normally associate with ‘literary heroism’, Jane’s subtle touch creates a microcosm of relatable and, therefore, deeply satisfying experiences. Loss and childhood memories, betrayals and betraying (I loved the anthropomorphic revenge fantasy!), the way we women carry the worlds of those we love on our shoulders: we find ourselves trusting her expert pen to show us our own worlds through new eyes.
The collection is cleverly set within the physical: flesh, pain, blood, loss and Jane’s own Welsh landscape. However, we should also look beyond the obvious to the true leitmotiv: a shared humanity that moves beyond the connective tissues of living flesh to flood us with tales of courage and hope, able to wash over us in glorious technicolour.
Though it’s tempting to read through this relatively slim volume quickly, Connective Tissue should be savoured – each story rolled around the tongue and given air to breathe, until its full flavour is ready to burst forth, flooding our senses.
There are eighteen short stories in this collection which I would describe as domestic literary fiction. Each contains a character who is somehow dissatisfied: perhaps due to the loss of a loved one through death or abandonment, or from having reached a certain age where there is less time ahead than that already had, or general concerns over aging connected to a depletion in looks/ability, or how grief colours the mind. Whilst they are well-written, only a few of the stories connected with me, which I put down to my preference in reading rather than any fault with the work. My favourites include "The Sausage Maker's Daughter" about a child helping out her father in their failing butchery whilst her mother is confined to bed due to mental health issues; "Controlled Explosions" where the dynamics of a bomb disposal team are strained; "Too Far Up and Too Far Down" about a woman's half-hearted attempt at adultery; and "Imitation Daisies" where a man's grief draws out the ghost of his wife. These stories connected with universal truths whereas the others weren't in my mindset. Overall, an ok read.
I found all the stories a good read. Believable settings and characters. More sadness than happiness.Dead-end lives. People who distrust what they see then discover evidence to support their hallucination (blood, a grass-stain, a swim-cap). Husbands off-stage or inexpressive. There's often some central symbolism - the bombs, a goat - which is alluded to in the title or, tangentally, at the end of the story. "Asking for it" (PoV of a tic) and "Plenty of time, Jane" (the narrator amazingly calm) provide variation to the usual narrative style. Some stories share a plot/shape as if trying out the same idea. I think 3 stories end using the future or conditional tense. "Blackberries" was maybe my favourite.