Josh Weil’s debut, The New Valley, is comprised of three novellas set in rural Virginia.  I read the first novella, “Ridge Weather,” through in one sitting and, exercising much self-control, decided to blog about Mr. Weil and his upcoming event at Lemuria (this Thursday, the 25th, starting at 5 o’clock) before devouring the next.

In an earlier post, Lisa sang the praises of the short story; quite a few of us Lemurians share a soft spot for this form of prose and regularly find ourselves having to defend it.  I’d like to add the novella to our defense.  The novella often reads like a short story, able to hone in on the mundane to make it majestic, while still having room to flex its sprawling muscles the way only a novel can.

Josh Weil’s collection is no exception — the novellas are almost impressionistic as their language attempts to paint a picture of a succinct moment in the lives of their protagonists.  But the painting that emerges is not a portrait, as it would be in a short story; instead, it is more of a focused landscape, one in which all of the peripheral details are as sharply defined as the subject.

The first novella in The New Valley, “Ridge Weather,” uses the winter elements — bitter cold, snow, wind — as a backdrop for the main character, loner Osby Caudill, who has just lost his father to suicide and finds only small comfort in continuing to care for the herd of cattle he and his father once tended together.  Osby’s increasing desperation for socialization and physical contact with another person leads to his ever more desperately pushing people away, until he finally clings to a dying steer as a replacement for human connection.  Throughout the novella, Weil’s expertly drawn detail guide the journey Osby takes.  Osby may not come to many revelations, as usually occurs in a novel, but Weil’s sense of place and mood gently envelop the reader in Osby’s isolated world as well as any short story could hope to do.

“If a short story is a piece of furniture and a novel is a house, then a novella is a room — and in that room a skilled writer can sometimes find space for all the aberrations and terrors and longings of a character’s life. The right room can intimate its occupant’s past and future, frustrations and failures, the shape of the house beyond . . . Weil meticulously imagines people and their histories, and presents them as a product of their places. This is perhaps the hardest thing for a fiction writer of any age, working in any form, to accomplish.”  — Anthony Doerr, in The New York Times Book Review

The New Valley is a great addition to any collection: order a signed copy through our website or come to Lemuria Thursday to meet this talented new writer.

Award winning author, Christopher Buckley, has written a wonderful memoir Losing Mum and Pup that chronicles the year in which he lost both of his parents. Those parents just happened to be rather famous. His father, William F. Buckley, was the father of the modern conservative movement and his mother, Patricia, was one of New York’s most glamorous and colorful socialites. He was their only child and their relationship was close and complicated. He makes it very clear on the front book flap that they were not your typical mom and dad and that is quite an understatement!!  The book is both a nostalgic look back on their lives together but also offers understanding, humor and warmth to those dealing with the death of a parent. The book definitely enticed me to read more about these two people which is exactly what a good book is supposed to do! I will keep you posted on what I find. Just this week on The New York Time’s Best Sellers List, it has reached number 8 so I am not alone in enjoying this unique memoir….. and my mother loved it too.
I have also just finished Elizabeth Edward’s book, Resilience which is number 4 on the Time’s list this week. We all know her story, married to politician John Edwards; she has lived a life filled with wonderful times and the most heart-wrenching experiences possible. She lost her oldest son, Wade, in a freak car accident when he was only 16 years old. Later in her life while her husband was running for president she was diagnosed with breast cancer. After rounds of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, the cancer went away- only to return in 2007. It was during this time that more heartache was discovered . . . that being her husband’s infidelity. The book was so sad in parts but this part was really hard to read.

She was incredibly honest in her description of hopes that were dashed to pieces. She writes “I am imperfect in a million ways, but I always thought I was the kind of woman, the kind of wife, to whom a husband would be faithful. I had asked for fidelity, begged for it, really, when we married. I never need flowers or jewelry; I don’t care about vacations or a nice car. But I need you to be faithful. Leave me, if you must, but be faithful to me if you are with me.” If that doesn’t break your heart there is something wrong with you! I did enjoy the book, though, I always learn from other people’s lives but this one really is just plain tough; she has terminal cancer, young children and a marriage that is still unsure. One thing, though, is that she is strong and clearly proves that you can learn to live with horrible things, the death of a child, the diagnosis and return of terminal cancer and the loss of the one dream you longed for. She really is quite something.

I had heard about this next book from my sister-in-law whose book club is reading it, and it was in my memoir section so I picked it up and couldn’t put it down. This makes three books that deal with all forms of loss (this was unintentional, really). It is called Perfection: A Memoir of Betrayal and Renewal by Julie Metz. It reminded me of another book that I blogged about several months ago called, Happens Every Day by Isabel Gillies. There seems to be a lot of books out now written by strong, articulate women who have survived real and difficult experiences. Both of these women dealt with the loss of dreams and the realization that your life is not playing out the way you thought it would.

In Metz’s book, her life changed in an instant when she heard a thud in the room above her while she fixed her daughter’s lunch in the kitchen below. The thud was her husband, Henry, who collapsed from an aneurism when he was only 44. The ride to the hospital, the confirmation of his death and subsequent experiences are raw and emotional. She is left a single mother of a six-year-old daughter. She takes the reader on a seven month journey through a widow’s deep grief. Metz believes she is coming along alright when something even worse happens. Through a course of events, it begins to unravel that Henry had been consistently unfaithful to her, with many women, throughout their entire 16-year marriage. This was completely unbeknownst to her. His last affair took place over the past 2 years and was with one of her closest friends whom she had relied on so much following Henry’s death. One life ended in his death but another life ended when she had to face the fact that her marriage was never what she thought it was.

She slowly begins to rebuild after seeking out each of the women in her husband’s long line of lovers and those interactions are fascinating though painful. I thought each woman’s initial reaction upon hearing from “the wife” was especially interesting. We follow along with her as she comes to terms with betrayal and widowhood. She genuinely seeks rebirth and happiness….if not perfection.

I really liked this woman. Henry was a fool.

In May, Alice Munro won the Man Booker International Prize for her body of fictional work, which consists mostly of short stories. This honor reminded me of  a lovely article written by Steven Millhauser for The New York Times Book Review last fall. In comparing the short story to the novel, Millhauser points out the dominance of the novel and describes it as “the Wal-Mart, the Incredible Hulk, the jumbo jet of literature . . . insatiable . . . it wants to devour the world.”

Ah yes, but what I really appreciate about this article is Millhauser’s praise for the short story. I continually have so many customers who turn their noses up at the short story, turn their heads in disgust at the mere suggestion of a collection of short stories. But wait a minute folks! Listen to Millhauser sing praises for the virtues of brevity:

“The short story concentrates on its grain of sand, in the fierce belief that there–right there, in the palm of its hand–lies the universe . . . it looks for the moment when the grain of sand reveals its true nature . . . the short story becomes bigger than itself. It becomes bigger than the novel”

“Therein lies the immodesty of the short story, its secret aggression. Its method is revelation. Its littleness is the agency of its power . . . It exults in its shortness. Its wants to be shorter still. It wants to be a single word. If it could it could find that word, if it could utter that syllable, the entire universe would blaze up out of it with a roar. That is the outrageous ambition of the short story, that is its deepest faith, that is the greatness of its smallness.”

And so these customers who are missing out on the short story inspired me to set up a large display in the fiction room solely dedicated to the short story . . . old and new, known and unknown, paperback and fine first edition . . . all short stories!

As Ann Patchett says, “SUMMER IS SHORT, READ A STORY.” Harper Perennial has launched a series of Public Service Announcements to deal with the short story reading deficit. Apparently, HP is also very aware of the painfully distorted faces at the mere mention of the word ‘story.’

I just keep several short story collections nearby . . . and there is no guilt if I do not finish the whole book in a short time. I can always pick it up later! Short stories are great for busy people who still want to do some reading. Some of my favorite collections include: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri, The Way Forward Is With a Broken Heart by Alice Walker, The Boat by Nam Le, Tongues of Flame by Mary Ward Brown, and Bad Behavoir by Mary Gaitskill.

Some collections that I am reading now: Love and Obstacles by Aleksandar Hemon, Demons in the Spring by Joe Meno, My Father’s Tears by John Updike, and It Wasn’t All Dancing by Mary Ward Brown.

Some collections I would like to read are by Alice Munro, Barry Hannah, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Isak Dinesen, Katherine Anne Porter . . . .

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If there is a short story writer that you really like, let me know!

In Search of Small Gods

by Jim Harrison

Cooper Canyon (2009)

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For the last fifty days or so, I’ve been reading Jim’s new poetry book as slowly as I can. I finished last week but I still feel unable to express my thoughts about this beautiful collection of poems.

Small Gods is mostly about the present; however, this collection of poems urges readers to look back and reflect on their place in time in order to gain a new understanding about their short time remaining.

Through this beautiful poetry, it is apparent the time Jim spent reflecting on his own mortality and one cannot help but indulge in reflecting on his own mortal state. However, this is not to say the vibrant spirit of this great writer is not alive in this collection.

I find “Another Old Mariachi” and “Tomorrow” to be two of my favorites. “Eleven Dawns with Su Tung-p’o” has encouraged me to revisit this great Chinese poet soon.

To all Jim’s fiction fans: Don’t skip this little jewel of prose poetry. It’s a beautiful side to this great American writer.