I was early for an appointment so I went to the English section of the bookstore, which I was sorry to see had shrunk, yielding to a stupid section of Frankfurt paraphenalia. My eyesight has grown so poor I have to keep taking my glasses off and putting them back on - on to scan the bookshelf, off to peruse the book in my hand. I found a short story collection by Lucia Berlin - such a European name, though it looks like she never left America. She grew up somewhere obscure and moved to Texas and NY, like everyone. She was an alcoholic with a back brace and multiple sons. I was surprised to read that the bright-eyed, coiffured woman on the cover was her - I thought it was a character. I read three stories including ‘Macadam,’ which begins “When fresh it looks like caviar,” then the bio, how her last marriage was to a guy named Something Berlin and I thought —until it dawned on me at dinner— wow, weird that she ended up with a guy with the same last name as her…
3 comments:
She did leave the United States--lived in Chile and Mexico, spoke fluent Spanish--which surely must account for her work's freedom from the strictures of the American short story of her time: the obligatory epiphanies, rigid narrative structure, door-slamming conclusions, arid minimalist prose. I love the way that she finds other things for a piece of prose fiction to do other than follow some tight through line to an ending--float and meander along for a bit, for instance, and yet still seem complete, never merely impressionistic. A lovely writer--wish there had been more. Speaking of which: haven't you thought of trying your hand at the short prose piece or story?
R.
Thanks much. I stand corrected. I'd never read her before, but the title of the collection seemed familiar.
I tried --long ago-- to write a short story, and failed miserably. I have written a couple short prose pieces that I wouldn't call stories, really, that I like more.
When I started working at the library, I discovered my need for trifocals---for that middle range, arm's length, the bookshelf ahead....
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