Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

What makes a classic Christmas story? When I think about some of the most well-known Christmas tales such as “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens or the short story 'The Greatest Gift' by Philip Van Doren Stern (which inspired the film 'It's a Wonderful Life') or the Christmas sections of “Little Women” by Louisa May Alcott, the predominant festive themes concern homecoming and a spirit of generosity. 

Claire Keegan's new novella “Small Things Like These” fits right into this tradition while also providing a stealthy dose of powerful social commentary. It's 1985 in a small Irish town and in the lead up to Christmas, Bill Furlong, a coal and timber merchant is very busy making deliveries to members of the community. Life is hard with the demands of work and family, but he and his wife have a strong partnership raising their five daughters. On Bill's rounds to the local convent - which is one of his best customers - he discovers something extremely distressing about the “training school for girls” which the nuns run there. It leaves him questioning whether he should intervene and how much he's personally willing to risk in order to do what he feels is right.

For such a brief book, this story says so much. It's filled with perfectly-pitched descriptions of physical details and dialogue which bring this humble community to life. There are evocative scenes of preparing a Christmas cake and a festive celebration. At first it feels like a highly supportive environment, but gradually we become aware of the sinister meaning behind what is not said. There's a conversation Bill has with his colleague Mrs Kehoe where she states “Tis no affair of mine, you understand, but you know you'd want to watch over what you'd say about what's there? Keep the enemy close, the bad dog with you and the good dog will not bite. You know yourself.” Though it feels like Bill has a clear moral choice to make there are social and financial pressures which make his decisions much harder.

It's clever how Bill's personal history as an orphan is weaved into the story of the present. He feels extremely fortunate to have had a benefactor who supported him. But there are aspects to his identity which have been hidden from him or not spoken about until an encounter he has while out for a visit. This makes him reflect: “Why were the things that were closest so often the hardest to see?” Keegan brilliantly portrays the way in which we create a narrative about our lives that is strongly influenced by the ideas and values of people around us so that sometimes the truth can remain obscured. But there are moments when it is revealed and this creates startling moments of realisation and ruptures in our reality. This novella dramatises an example of this on both a personal and wider community level.

Keegan's novella does that rare thing of facing the cruel facts of the world and creating a heartwarming story which is in no way sentimental but perfectly justified in its conclusion. It's what makes this novella a genuine Christmas story alongside the fact that it is set around the festive season. “A Christmas Carol” even plays a funny part in the story where Bill remembers the disappointment of being given a copy of the book (which smelled of must.) At the end of the book a note on the text provides some sobering context and information about Magdalene Laundries. Though the facts are shocking, it's even more startling to imagine how many communities must have been quietly complicit with what was happening in these institutions. It's powerful how this story reminds us to be vigilant and care for everyone around us – especially the most vulnerable.

Cardiff, by the Sea by Joyce Carol Oates

Joyce Carol Oates excels at writing stories of psychological suspense which also contain an underlying layer of more profound and unanswerable questions. In “Cardiff, by the Sea”, her new collection of four novellas, she presents several differently compelling and inventive strategies for teasing the reader into questioning what's real and what's only a part of the narrator's imagination. In the title story, an emotionally-charged terrifying childhood memory haunts a scholarly young woman. In “Miao Dao”, a stray cat becomes a kind of ghost guardian for a vulnerable teenage girl. A bright young student falls prey to her influential mentors in “Phantomwise:1972”. And, in “The Surviving Child”, a new wife joins a household haunted by the memory of a mother who tried to eviscerate her family. These are innately dramatic situations whose psychological complexity is furthered by the longer amount of space the author allows for them to be told, but the stories remain compact enough for their tension to remain breathtakingly persistent. Recent books of short stories by Oates such as “Pursuit” and “Night-Gaunts” present similarly suspenseful situations, but it's interesting how the author works in this new book with slightly longer forms of narrative to produce an effect that is very reminiscent of Henry James' “The Turn of the Screw.” 

Two of the funniest and most vivid characters in this collection are Elspeth and Morag who are the great-aunts of Clare, the protagonist of “Cardiff, by the Sea”. Clare travels to Maine after being informed that a grandmother she didn't know existed has left her a house in her will and the aunts take her into their home while the estate is being settled. The dialogue between the two aunts whips across the page as they relentlessly bicker and fuss over Clare who is caught helplessly between them. They're like an elderly female version of Tweedledum and Tweedledee from Lewis Carroll's “Through the Looking-Glass”. In fact, a more explicit reference to “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland” comes in “Phantomwise:1972” where the student protagonist is named Alyce. She becomes the assistant and romantic interest/carer of Roland B___, a famous poet who remarks that he once met the original Alice who inspired Carroll. It's delightful to see how Carroll's writing continues to inspire and reconfigure itself within Oates' fiction.

I often remark how Oates' writing almost feels prescient given that her subjects frequently mirror the most topical debates occurring at the time of her book's publication. Here again, Oates' sensitivity for the questions dividing current politics inform her storylines. A pointed message is made in the novella “Phantomwise:1972” which, significantly, is set in the time immediately before the U.S. Supreme Court's landmark decision on Roe v. Wade. Given the vacancy on the Supreme Court left by Ruth Bader Ginsburg's death and her proposed replacement, the topic of abortion has come to the forefront of American politics again. Of course, this is an issue Oates has written about numerous times before, most notably in her tremendous novel “A Book of American Martyrs”. But, in this new novella, Oates considers the point of view of a young woman who finds herself unexpectedly pregnant and encounters a crisis because she's not able to legally obtain an abortion. The story serves as a stark reminder at this crucial period of time that vulnerable young individuals will face innumerable challenges if these laws are overturned.

The opening of Oates' 2007 novel “The Gravedigger's Daughter” included a scene where a parent comes close to killing everyone in his family before committing suicide. This tragic circumstance occurs again but in very different contexts in two of the novellas in this collection “Cardiff, by the Sea” and “The Surviving Child”. In returning to the region of her birth family, Clare discovers her father might have executed her mother and siblings when she was very young but there's a compelling mystery throughout the story about whether this was in fact what happened. In “The Surviving Child” Elisabeth marries a widower whose first wife Nicola was a famous poet that is posthumously accused of killing herself and her daughter. The son Stefan narrowly survived this harrowing incident and continues to live with his father and new stepmother in the upmarket house where this tragedy occurred. Elisabeth's experiences living in this solemn estate are extremely eerie and tense in way that resembles Daphne du Maurier's “Rebecca”. It's fascinating how Oates reconfigures instances of filicide in her fiction to give very different slants and perspectives on this almost unspeakable crime to show the multitude of societal pressures and psychological derangements which might motivate them.

What brings all these gripping novellas to life is Oates' masterful use of description and pace to evoke visceral feelings of dread in the reader's imagination. In the large unsettling house Elisabeth inhabits it's remarked “Doorknobs feel uncomfortably warm when touched, like inner organs.” The squirming discomfort and unsettling atmosphere these metaphors and figurative language cause make these compulsive stories darkly pleasurable to read. Equally, Oates uses creepy imagery such as a spider web to invoke a mood but also to suggest deeper meaning. In the title novella it's asked “But why are you walking away? Is this not the intersection with another? Another life, whose web you have blundered into.” Here the recurring image prompts a feeling for how our lives are made up of innumerable paths and possibilities, but we are simultaneously trapped in our circumstances. In this way, Oates ingeniously builds stories which are both thrilling and prompt deeper questions about the mysteries of existence. 

You can also watch me interview Joyce Carol Oates about this collection here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGJlsLdSd28

This is Pleasure by Mary Gaitskill

Over the past few years it’s been inspiring seeing how the momentum of the Me Too movement has raised people’s awareness about sexual harassment and sexual assault as well as instigate a lot of discussion about what’s acceptable behaviour (especially in circumstances where power and influence are at play.) So it’s really interesting how Mary Gaitskill has written a novella about the blurry lines between friendship, flirtation and inappropriate conduct. “This is Pleasure” has a dual narrative that gives equal balance to the voices of long term friends Quin and Margot. Allegations of sexually harassment are made against Quin from former friends and colleagues at the publisher he works for and soon more and more women come forward to testify against him. Margot feels compelled to defend her friend, but finds herself questioning whether his habits and behaviour do indeed cross a line. It’s striking how Quin isn’t a stereotypical predator. He’s charming and sensitive, inspiring many women to befriend and confide in him. And sometimes there are cringe-worthy sexual overtones to his conversation which leads to fondling. He’s an entirely believable and recognizable character – as well as Margot who is quick to justify these types of actions with the explanation “It’s just the way he is.”  

It’s excellent how Gaitskill pries open the complexity of these relationships by alternating between their points of view. Reading this novella felt somewhat like watching a documentary as Quin and Margot are so firmly entrenched in their own perspectives they sometimes find it difficult to see the larger picture or consider the feelings of others. Even when describing the fact of Quin’s gross behaviour they find it easy to explain it away because they’re both so convinced about his essential innocence. Their adjacent points of view show the complexity of friendship and how supporting the people we love can sometimes lead us to become complicit in their inappropriate or harmful actions. As a publisher Quin also muses on the nature of storytelling and in this Gaitskill fascinatingly shows the levels on which personal stories can come to influence the conscience of society and, in turn, these social narratives can be integrated into our own personal narratives. This novella opens up such big issues in an impressively pared down style that its effect is all the more haunting than if it’d been a much longer novel. This is the first book I’ve read by Gaitskill but it’s made me eager to read more of her writing.

West by Carys Davies

It’s interesting when book prizes such as the Rathbones Folio Prize consider contenders from very different genres and styles. This year’s shortlist places nonfiction alongside poetry and fiction. But even the nominated fiction including Burns’ highly stylized “Milkman” and the contemporary “Ordinary People” varies wildly. Most striking are the lengths of the two historical novels in contention: “Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile” by Alice Jolly which is 640 pages and “West” by Carys Davies which is a mere 149 pages. In a way it feels impossible that these books can be judged against each other, but since they have included such a diverse list I assume the judges must only be considering the excellence of the book itself and how well they believe the authors succeeded within the parameters of form. In this way, “West” excels in how it tells a straightforward, succinct and simple story that has a much bigger meaning.

In early 19th century America a widower named Cy Bellman journeys out to the wild west leaving behind his adolescent daughter Bess. He’s seen a news report that the bones of colossal unknown beasts were discovered there so he sets out hoping to discover if any of these rare animals survive. His mission is undoubtably foolish as such a dangerous journey at this time takes years and means he has to entrust the business of his farm and the raising of his daughter to his sister Julie. It’s not even an endeavour to strike it rich like in a gold rush, but just to witness a heretofore unknown creature of enormous size. We follow the years of his hazardous journey alongside the perils his daughter Bess faces as she grows into womanhood. It’s utterly gripping and poignantly told.

It’s a complicated task to portray a male character who acts with such arrogance and stubborn pride. In a way I hated Cy for abandoning his responsibilities to his daughter and leaving a life where he could have been quite content. He even had the prospect of a new romance with a local woman who was a widow. But at the same time he was merely asserting his independence to pursue his dream (even if he was only acting on what today would be considered a mid-life crisis.) It’s a radical act in response to the weight of responsibility he feels and his unresolved grief at the loss of Bess’ mother. Clearly Cy wasn’t doing what was morally or logically right, but Davies effectively shows the complexity of his decision.

It can be tricky for an author to portray a man acting selfishly and at the expense of others in a sympathetic way – as I felt when reading the recently translated novel The Pine Islands. These novels have another interesting parallel of having non-white “sidekick” characters whose dilemmas are taken seriously while not being treated with equal weight to the primary white male character. Cy enlists the help of a Native American Shawnee teenage boy named ‘Old Woman From a Distance’ to help guide him. His tribulations are treated seriously and in a way I felt he was the most complex character in this novella. But Davies portrays all her characters in a way which maintains their integrity and highlights their sometimes horrific actions while not placing any judgements on them.

Aside from these characters’ personal stories this novella seems to be saying something much bigger about the country as a whole and the human impulse to chase illusions. In America’s mission to expand and grow it paved over the land’s history and decimated the native people who inhabited it. The novel shows the casualties of this and the innate desire some people felt to connect with this forgotten history. At the same time it shows how pursing what seems most foolish can become the most important drive in an individual’s life. The novella opens up a lot of issues which leave subtle questions in the reader’s mind and I admired how it does all this with tremendous economy.