"The Palace of Illusions," by Kim Addonizio

Hmmm. Lately I seem to have read -- without my planning it that way -- several short story collections that have an element of mystery, magic, the supernatural. San Francisco writer Kim Addonizio’s new story collection, “The Palace of Illusions” (Soft Skull Press, 2014), has an edginess partly derived from that sense of mystery, that presumption that anything can happen at any time. In the kind of fiction I am talking about, it is a fine line between things that happen because they are inevitable and things that happen that are supernatural. One story in this collection, “The Hag’s Journey,” is explicitly a fairy tale. Another, “Ever After,” is a modern day play on the “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves” story. Mostly Addonizio’s characters are outsiders, have had rough lives, but are still holding onto their illusions, even though those illusions are shattered again and again. These are characters who are strongly etched, and mostly sympathetic; the reader’s response is most often pity. The stories are generally about gritty situations, with carnivals, grim apartments, and storage units as obvious indicators of outsiderness. Another kind of outsiderness appears in “The Cancer Poems,” but this story is also one of the stories in this collection that amid sadness introduces a grace note, one that arises from human connection.

Listening to Colm Toibin

A few days ago I had the good fortune to hear the wonderful Irish writer Colm Toibin speak and read from his new novel, “Nora Webster,” at my favorite local independent bookstore, Book Passage in Corte Madera. I have read, admired, and enjoyed several of his novels and short story collections over the years, including “The Master,” “Mothers and Sons: Stories,” “Brooklyn” (which I posted about on 1/28/10), “The Empty Family: Stories" (my post: 1/28/11), and “Testament of Mary” (1/20/13). I was already planning to read “Nora Webster,” and hearing Toibin read passages from it made me even more eager to do so. His reading voice is beautiful and expressive but not over-the-top. Even better were his introductory and between-passages comments, and his answers to questions after the reading. His comments were thoughtful, humorous in a low-key way, gently self-deprecating in a wry, confiding way, and conversational. He shared stories about his childhood and youth, as well as his more recent life. He spoke about Ireland, especially the small towns, about Catholicism, about his family, and about why he wrote about Henry James (in “The Master”), among other topics. He treated each question with thought and respect. In other words, his persona was engaging and impressive. His audience was rapt and responsive. As people were leaving the event area of the bookstore, I heard one woman say “I just wanted him to go on and on!” and I agreed with her. It was a privilege and a pleasure to hear this great author speak. And if I sound like a bedazzled fan, I’m OK with that!

"Not That Kind of Girl," by Lena Dunham (Yes, That Lena Dunham)

Agewise, I am not the target audience for Lena Dunham’s television show, “Girls,” nor for her new book of very personal essays, “Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She’s ‘Learned’” (Random House, 2014). Yet I have occasionally watched and been intrigued by the show, and I have just finished reading the book. Dunham is known for being successful in her early twenties; she is also known for her willingness to be extremely self-revealing about her experiences and feelings, whether good, bad, or (often) embarrassing. She is still only in her late twenties, and some would call it presumptuous to write a quasi-memoir at such a young age, but her candidness and self-deprecation are disarming. On one level, the book is very personal, with topics including her dating life, sex life, work, creativity, health, body and body image, relationship with her parents, friendships, therapy, and much more. On another level, she is speaking for a certain subset of her generation, mostly privileged, urban young women who are educated, liberated, but still often confused, aimless, and lost. Some of the chapter headings provide an idea of the scope and focus of the book: “Take My Virginity.” “Girls and Jerks.” “Sex Scenes, Nude Scenes, and Publicly Sharing Your Body.” “Therapy & Me.” “Emails I Would Send If I Were One Ounce Crazier/Angrier/Braver.” The book is very readable, and besides the essays themselves, includes a number of catchy lists on topics such as “15 Things I’ve Learned from my Mother,” “10 reasons I [Heart] NY,” and “13 Things I’ve Learned Are not Okay to Say to Friends.” There is plenty of humor and whimsicality, but also pain. Although there is the occasional cringe-worthy passage, mostly Dunham’s writing is both engaging and endearing. And although I began by saying that agewise, I am not the target audience, there are many aspects of young women’s experiences that sound familiar even to a woman quite some years past the teens and twenties. I am sure it will be of interest to some men as well. Those who love “Girls” will love this book. Those who dislike “Girls” will probably dislike this book as well. But I think there are also other readerships: those who have mixed feelings about the show, or have never heard of it but are interested in the topics Dunham addresses. Even those who are not big fans of “Girls” may well find much to like in this book.

"Some Luck," by Jane Smiley

Jane Smiley’s writing is both well respected and popular. I have read and enjoyed several of her novels, my favorites being the novels “A Thousand Acres” (her best known book) and “Moo.” Smiley has made a point of writing in many different genres of fiction, including historical fiction, comedy, and mystery, along with more straightforward literary fiction. Her subject matter varies widely as well. Her new novel, “Some Luck” (Knopf, 2014) is a family saga, and is projected to be the first of a trilogy. The phrase “family saga” often intimates a bestseller-ish, predictable novel, but Smiley’s version, although already a bestseller, is not predictable. It is beautifully written and moving. It takes place on a farm in Iowa between 1920, the year the main character -- Frank -- is born, and 1953. We know which year it is at any given time, because Smiley writes one chapter for each year, and the title of that chapter is the year. Although Frank is at the center of the novel, many other family members are equally important; his parents, Rosanna and Walter Langdon, their own parents, their other children, and various relatives, neighbors, friends, classmates, lovers and spouses all have their places in this novel. Most of the story takes place on the farm and surrounding land and in nearby small towns, but some characters venture out into the wider world, most notably when Frank fights in Europe during World War II, and when some family members move to New York and others to California. Through the lives of these characters, we experience the important and influential – for better or for worse – events of the time, including the Depression, World War II, and the McCarthy era. There are plenty of events moving the plot along: successes, failures, romances, marriages, births, deaths, trips, danger, physical and mental illnesses, and more. But the greatest strength of the novel is -- as it should be, in my opinion -- in its very individual characters, their relationships, the ways they deal with hardship, the importance of family, and the particular connection that farmers have with the land. This novel starts a little slowly, but it is well worth persisting, because the book is a wonderful one, a realistic one, an engrossing one, a moving one, sometimes a heartbreaking one, and arguably a masterpiece. I look forward with eagerness to the second and third installments of the trilogy. I am glad Jane Smiley is quite a prolific writer, because that probably means we won’t have to wait more than two or three years for the next book.

"Stone Mattress: Nine Tales," by Margaret Atwood

I have always thought, as have so many others, that the great Margaret Atwood is a powerful writer in complete command of her writing. I so appreciate her pointed explorations of political and social issues, especially those regarding gender (see, for example, “The Handmaid’s Tale” and “Cat’s Eye,” both brilliant modern day classics). I also admire the way she cuts through nonsense. There is a bracing tartness to most of her work. And I just plain enjoy her work. I read almost everything she wrote until she started writing in the science fiction/fantasy vein (from “Oryx and Crake” onward); as readers of this blog may remember, that is not a genre I enjoy, even when produced by great writers such as Atwood. So I was happy to read her recent collection of “tales”; although there is an occasional bit verging on fantasy or magic, as the word "tales" might indicate, these stories are not predominantly in that genre. And what stories! The book is titled “Stone Mattress: Nine Tales” (Doubleday, 2014), and it is a joy to return to the competent -- no, brilliant -- writing of this great writer. (And I -- a former Canadian -- have a special pride in the work of this Canadian writer.) Several of the stories deal with old age; although Atwood herself seems ageless, she will be 75 this month, and I assume she draws (creatively and indirectly, of course) on her own thoughts and feelings as an aging person. The final story, for example, “Torching the Dusties,” is chilling in its portrayal of what could happen when some people believe that the old should be forced to step aside to make room for the young. Another story on the theme of age, “Revenant,” is a devastatingly negative portrayal of an aging male writer who, long past his artistic prime, is still extremely sensitive about his reputation and his ego. (I can't help wondering if Atwood had a particular writer in mind!) One story, “Alphinland,” tells of a writer who has created a fantasy world in her books, one which is extremely popular and makes her rich and famous (or relatively so), although it allows others to look down on her because what she writes isn’t, in their view, real literature. Readers will of course wonder if Atwood is describing her own situation here, when she turned to science fiction. The other stories have various themes and topics, all with a bite; imagine, for example, the threat of danger that the main character thrives on when he meets the woman whose storage unit he has just bought sight unseen (a la "Storage Wars" on television). Hint: the title of the story is “The Freeze-Dried Groom.” Each of these stories is highly original and highly satisfying.

"Everything I Never Told You," by Celeste Ng

Celeste Ng’s novel “Everything I Never Told You” (Penguin, 2014) reminds me yet again of how difficult the issue of race is in America. This seems like an obvious point, but when a story brings the impact of racism -- both overt and covert -- to the fore so powerfully and so sadly, one cannot help but have to face it, and at the same time -- if one has the privilege that goes with being white in this society -- cannot help but have to acknowledge that privilege. The story of the Lee family in the 1960s and 1970s in a small town in the U.S., in which the father is Chinese American and the mother Caucasian-American, and in which their two children are marked by their mixed race, reveals the slights and prejudices the family members encounter practically daily. The children are each the only non-whites in their classes, and although they are successful students, they are always aware of their being “different”; the stares, the clumsy remarks, and the fingers to the outer corners of the eyes are constant reminders. Complicating the story are issues of gender, as we learn how the mother, Marilyn, struggled to fulfill her desire to be a doctor, and all the obstacles she faced; she never achieved that goal. Further, there are the issues of parents’ trying to live out their dreams through their children. Marilyn wants her daughter Lydia to be a great scientist and doctor, and is constantly urging her on. The father, James, wants his children to have a happier life, with more friends and “normal” childhood and adolescent experiences, than he did. Lydia, the middle child, the one with blue eyes, becomes the focal point for the dreams of both parents, although the other two children do not escape the pressures of these dreams. The parents truly love their children, and they cannot simply be classified as “tiger” parents; the situation is much more complex. Then something terrible happens (we find this out very early on, so this is not a spoiler on my part): Lydia disappears and then is found dead. As much as this novel is “about” race and gender and family and society, it is also a very specific, personal story about five particular characters in a particular family in a particular community, and the delicate dynamics among them all. This is a truly wrenching story, yet a riveting one.

"Bad Feminist," by Roxane Gay

I was a little uncertain about the title “Bad Feminist” (Harper Perennial, 2014), a collection of essays by Roxane Gay. I admit I am sensitive about the way “feminist” has, to many people, become a negative word, even to those generally supportive of women’s rights and equality. I am proud to call myself a feminist, as I have been for my whole adult life. But upon reading the reviews, I realized that Roxane Gay is in fact clearly a feminist, but chose this title to indicate and explore the complexity of the term and of her own and many other people’s grappling with what feminism means, whether there is one way to be a feminist or not, how feminism intersects with issues of race and class, how the term is used in larger culture wars, and more. I have just finished reading the book, and am enormously impressed by the range, depth, and complexity of Gay’s analysis and interpretations of feminism, in the context of sexism and racism in today’s culture. She writes powerfully and passionately, yet always thoughtfully and never dogmatically. She is sometimes unpredictable and inconsistent – a good thing! – in that her life, ideas, and behaviors don’t always comport with the stereotype of feminism. For example, she freely admits to watching plenty of “bad” television, and to not always being politically correct in her own life and romantic/sexual attractions and behaviors. This gifted thinker and writer is a young, black professor, critic, and dissector of news stories, movies, television shows, Internet discussions, politics, and more. She shares her own experiences generously but not gratuitously; they provide perspective and connections to important topics in the larger culture. There are so many gems, so many thought-provoking essays here. Among many topics, she addresses sexual violence, body weight, academe, comedy, journalism, the law…the list goes on. Gay is also brave in the way she takes on topics of gender, race, and sexuality; especially on the Internet, this sometimes exposes her to toxic attacks. Further, and happily so, Gay is an excellent (even, dare I say it, entertaining) writer, and although her topics are mostly very serious, her writing is never ponderous. Once I started, I wanted to keep reading, and not just because of the importance of the topics. I will now read anything Roxane Gay writes.