I bought and read my copy of Secrets & Surprises when it first came out in 1978 and until now probably haven't read it again. But upon looking at it now I realize the opening of the first story ("A Vintage Thunderbird") is as familiar to me as, say, the first sentences of One Hundred Years of Solitude or Pride and Prejudice. Which might be odd, as it seems fairly bland:
"Nick and Karen had driven from Virginia to New York in a little under six hours. They had made good time, keeping ahead of the rain all the way, and it was only now, while they were in the restaurant, that the rain began."
It's bland, but the storm that finally overtakes them is symbolic. In any event, this is the first of several bits I remember quite clearly, another being Nick's phone conversation with the guy they'd visited in Virginia.
Karen is attractive, financially well-off, the owner of a cool T-bird convertible, and complacent about the effect she has on men.
We're told Nick "had seen for a long time that it didn't matter to her how much she meant to him." Actually, she doesn't know or care that she's important to other guys as well. In turn, her indifference colors Nick's interactions with, for example, a coworker named Petra, who seems somewhat attracted to him
Nick otherwise tends to be a timid, wishy-washy sort of fellow, very much subject to the abuse his environment heaps upon him. (He's mugged twice in the story.)
The basic plotline is quite simple, but at points along the way there are vivid starbursts, random quirky observations, cameo appearances of strong personalities, and flashbacks to explain a relationship. Come to think of it, that's more or less the way I perceive life.
I remember thinking, the first time I read this collection, that Ann Beattie had come into her own. She'd been my writing teacher when her first two books were published, and of course I was awed to know a genuine author. I thought Distortions and Chilly Scenes of Winter were swell. And of course she has written a lot more since then, most of which I've read. But I think Secrets & Surprises might be Ann Beattie at her finest.
That said, after one has read the first few of these 15 stories there is no secret nor any surprise when the next one turns out to concern yet another couple in a lousy relationship.
In "Distant Music" the guy is obsessed with establishing a career as a songwriter and the woman has too much of her identity wrapped up in him. Their dog is a metaphor for the relationship and after they split the dog turns vicious.
In "La Petite Danseuse de Quatorze Ans," Griffin and Louise are both very much living in the shadows of their respective fathers. She has warm childhood memories and simple love for her parents, but he wants to trash that, complaining that "Your loyalty is still with him." The significance of the Degas statue, which she admires in the National Gallery of Art, is that the young dancer is poised to take a step, whereas Griffin and Louise are incapable of doing anything.
"Colorado" is the first Ann Beattie story I ever read. She brought the galley proofs to class before it appeared in The New Yorker (and incidentally I just found my copy of the March 15, 1976 issue in which that story appeared). I remember my dad read it then and was not impressed. He saw only a disturbing situation involving losers making one bad decision after another. Penelope in that story is somewhat like Karen in having many unlucky suitors, and a question arose in class as to whether her name was meant to evoke the wife of Odysseus. (Ann insisted that was not her intent.) Anyway, I understand my father's assessment of the characters. Their bizarrely unrealistic schemes evoke in me a feeling of anxiety. On the other hand, Ann Beattie is great with the little details that make a scene real. I absolutely recognize aspects of the situations in almost all of these stories, so if the characters' schemes are unrealistic, the scenarios are not. Ann Beattie is saying here something about how educated young people were living in the 1970s (and, for all I know, how they're still living).
The latter stories in the collection are not specifically about relationships as much as they're about damaged people. "The Lawn Party" for example has as its main character a guy who lost his arm in a car accident but is also cutting himself off from his family. His problems can be traced back to having married one woman while being in love with her sister (who died in the accident and may even have crashed the car on purpose). However, what is not addressed, as far as I can tell, is the ultimate reason he or indeed any of Ann's characters here are so profoundly screwed up. Normal people would not get married if both knew the guy loved someone else.
"Friends" is a long story with a great many characters, more than can easily be kept in mind. I think a dozen are introduced in the first three pages. It opens with several of them gathered at the home of Francie, who's a painter of some talent but limited success. She says, "Sometimes when all of us are together we have good times." The pages that follow do not portray particularly good times, however. Perry secretly loves Francie but takes months to work up sufficient courage to tell her. The love is not reciprocated, at least partly because all she wants is recognition and fame. By the story's conclusion, we're told her goal could possibly be not so unrealistic. T.K., another member of the gang, might also be on track to success as a musician. However, the majority of the action here involves betrayals, jealousies, and complaining, amidst which the characters seem to take a car theft and a home invasion in stride. Despite their striving I don't think any of them are happy or even know what might make them happy.
Again, a lot of this is recognizable, at least to me. It's clearly drawn from life. However, as reviewers back in the day often pointed out, Ann Beattie tweaks the recognizable until it's in the realm of caricature. Maybe that's the attraction: These characters resemble us, or people we've known, but surely we weren't that crazy. Were we? Ultimately, people have to find their way out of those situations. Life lived that way on a continuing basis would be pointless. And sad.
Several years ago Kirkus Reviews said the characters in these stories "possess an odd bleak courage as they take baby steps in a world that promises but cannot deliver." Odd bleak courage is close enough, but what they also need is sufficient judgment to balance out their impulses and neuroses. I mean, this world is not going to deliver good things in response to continuing choices that are demonstrably wrong. Modern Western society is secure enough that someone can make a lot of mistakes and probably come out okay in the end. In earlier centuries the environment was maybe not so forgiving. I think if these characters used any judgment at all, especially in 1978, their world could have been less disappointing.