The first tale, The Girl Who Raised Pigeons, is a flat-out great story- rich evocative, filled with poetry, and a terrific end- about Betsy Ann Morgan, being raised by her widowered father, finding inspiration in the birds she cares for on her rooftop pigeon coop. Read it, then read what is published online or in ‘name’ magazines, and the difference is clear. The First Day is a brief tone poem on a child’s first day in school, and its end is haunting. Just a wonderful evocation of a moment that almost every reader can relate to. The Night Rhonda Ferguson Was Killed is another strong story- a slice of life about the effect of a girl’s senseless death on her good friend, whose end rocks you, even though you know what’s coming. Young Lions is the first weak story, but that’s relative to the first three tales. It’s about young criminals, has not much insight, and a bit of a melodramatic end. Still, it’s far better than any online pap you’ll find about hip badasses. The Store is the best tale in the book, and certainly one of the greatest published short stories of the last twenty or so years. It is lush in detail, and insight, into a bygone era, as it follows the several year career of an irresponsible young man who gradually learns responsibility, the worth of things and people, and a sense of place in the cosmos. Its end is touching, but it’s simply a masterwork of writing. An Orange Line Train To Ballston is another moment-piece, ala The First Day, although not quite as poignant- but still larded with skill and insight. The Sunday Following Mother’s Day is a good story, about the aftermath of a domestic murder of a woman by her husband, whose only weak spot is its end- but overall, very strong.
The titular tale, Lost In The City, is another moment-piece following a drug-addled discombobulated woman, who’s a rich buppy lawyer, rushing to a hospital to see her mother, who has just died. The lay out of the inner workings of the bereaved woman’s mind is an excellent approach, and Jones pulls it off magnificently. His Mother’s House is a solid tale that’s a bit too long, and- like Young Lions- follows young hoodlums and violence. It is a relatively weak tale, and I suspect that Jones, in both stories, had no firsthand experience, or simply could not properly empathize. These are minor quibbles, and even these weakest tales are still several notches above what is generally published. A Butterfly On F Street is another brief moment-piece, about the awkward meeting of a widow, and the woman her husband left her for, on a street corner. Its poetry and symbolism are resonant. A terrific tale. Gospel is a slice of life about the aftermath of the neighborhood church’s burning down, and its effects on the church’s gospel singers. It is too long, but has nice moments. It is, again, a weak tale only relative to the other gems within, as slices of life stories really need to be short, as mood pieces, lest they just start droning on about insignificant things. Minutia can quickly become trivia. A New Man follows the changes wrought by the unexpected disappearance of a lonely couple’s only child- their fifteen year old daughter. It is haunting, and its end brings tears- but it is no mere tearjerker- these babies are heartfelt!
A Dark Night is a light and slight tale, with a great end, whose premise can be filled in by my merely telling you it is night, and stormy. This is frivolous, but fun. The final tale in the book is Marie- another absolute home run of greatness. It follows an elderly woman who worries that her Social Security checks are in jeopardy, especially after she slaps a rude and demeaning receptionist at the Social Security office. She is then visited by a Howard University college kid who wants to tape her life story for a folklore project. The end of the tale, which follows Marie listening to her recorded voice is powerful, in both psychological and dramatic ways, and its end perfectly in tune with the character we see sketched before us. It is a terrific end to a great book.
Of the fourteen stories I reckon at least nine are excellent to great, and the others solid to good. That’s a phenomenal ratio in this watered down age. It’s a great book, and has most truck with James Joyce’s Dubliners, rather than Alexie’s stereotypes, or the exaggerated grotesques of a Sherwood Anderson or Flannery O’Connor, because the characters are people first, rather than blacks or Washingtonians, just as Joyce’s characters are people first, before they are Irishmen and Dubliners. That said, Jones’ characters do engage in some stereotypical behavior, as do Joyce’s, but it is limited, and certainly not the norm, and the characters who do descend to such depths usually pay for their shallowness. Also, like Dubliners, there is cross-pollination between stories, as main characters in one tale sometimes cameo in later tales, as the stories are over several decades- a noticeable difference from Dubliners, which is concentrated over a one or two year period.
Why is it so difficult to find great writers and stories? Why does not the publishing industry find and promote more Edward P. Joneses? Well, first off, there are not that many, but, these stories may not be ‘moneymakers’ because they do not offer pat solutions, nor are the characters caricatures, and they do not skim along the mere surfaces of things. It also takes an effort for readers to fully appreciate the multi-hued, and deeply textured tales and portraits Jones relates, and most people suffer from video game or MTV languor. Yet, is there, or has there ever been, a better virtual reality machine than a great piece of writing? A great poem puts you in a moment, and a great story can arc you through events that you can feel, almost as if experiencing them for yourself.
I loathe the cheapening of thought and conversation and striving for insight. That is why I love this book, and the relative handful of other works like it that are out there. Instead of the shot at a quick, cheap, moneymaker, publishers should seek quality, and promote it, to develop careers, rather than get one hit wonders, whose one hit was dependent upon things other than the writing quality- which is usually sorely lacking. Accept lesser profits in the short term, but greater in the long run, while also contributing to literature. It then forces an upward spiral of writing, where people can look to an Edward Jones, or William Kennedy, or Charles Johnson, and say, ‘I want to write like them, because they’re good, and I want to contribute to my culture,’, rather than this several decades long downward spiral where bad writers see a Mary Gaitskill or Yann Martell or Stephen Elliott or (fill in the Oprah-type writer) being published, and say, ‘I want to write like them, because it’s easy, and I can write better than that crap, and I want to be famous.’
It is not enough to merely say why a writer is good, but show it, praise it, and honor it as among the best an individual can do, and the highest that human beings can achieve. On that note I will close with the terrific end of The Night Rhonda Ferguson Was Killed:
She made a pallet for her daughter beside the bed and turned out the light when she left the room. Occasionally, Cassandra would drift into what Anita thought was sleep. All the while Cassandra gritted her teeth. Sometime, way late in the night, Cassandra spoke out, and at first Anita thought she was talking in her sleep: She asked Anita to sing that song she sung in the car on the way home. Anita sang; long after her parents had gone to bed, long after she stopped wondering if Cassandra was listening, Anita sang. She sang on into the night for herself alone, her voice pushing back everything she did not yet understand.
Understand yet?
Torv wanted to ensure that she "truly represent[ed]" the female newsreaders of the time, and described her character as being an "amalgamation" of the female newsreaders she grew up watching every night, re-watching news coverage from the era to help finesse the development of the character. Torv reported how she invested "most of [her] energy into what it was to be a newsreader", including learning the significance of the autocue; her lines in scenes in which her character was delivering the news were read from an autocue. She discovered it was "the best way to perfect her delivery", realising "how connected the autocue was with the intonation and all the rest of it";[75] this appreciation helped by partaking in sessions with someone who had been hired to teach the newsreading, and learned "that the phrasing, and all that kind of stuff, comes purely through the autocue" as the "way you speak as a newsreader is because you can't see the next word."[76] It was these lessons through which Torv acknowledged the background of her character's journalism and how it could not be separated from, and how it influenced, Helen as a newsreader, and portraying her as the latter could not be done without taking on board that "you have to come up". She described the attention to detail with appreciating the "gap between public and personal" that would have to be employed in her portrayal, enabled by the "heightened element of being on the news desk"; as "in order for people to hold on and believe [that person]" you have to "strip back". There were conversations about the right affectations and the hairstyle Helen as the 'newsreader' would need to have.[74]
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Reid commented that Dale has always held a belief that "the pinnacle of everything that represents stability and assuredness" and the "archetype of what it is to be a man [and] a voice of authority is represented in this newsreader kind of form".[79] He echoed Lucas' earlier comments on the character attempting to, yet failing, to achieve a certain calibre of masculinity, speaking of what he perceives as a common drive in Australia "to hold specific models of masculinity up on pedestals and applaud them and push other ones into the shadows", and that "[t]he framework of a news reader, this stable, firm hand who delivers the news nightly and that the nation trusts, is a really good way to explore that". He explains that as Dale progressively strives to achieve this ideal, he begins to hide his true self and is slowly replaced by a "carbon copy of a man" that he isn't "that good at" being.[47] He expanded on this, saying Dale rejecting the "naive [and] sensitive ... part of himself", as he transitions into "this statuesque carbon copy of what he thinks a stable human being might be", is what the cast refer to as "Dead Dale", a version of the character in which he is "selling himself out". When developing a style for Dale as a newsreader, Reid remarked of his collaboration with director Freeman, and their constant work on the issue of the "public and private mask" that is prevalent in newsreading - newsreading requiring a "blank personality" in which "you can't invest too much of your personality". Reid has attempted to make clear that the show was presenting Dale not as "necessarily acting out on repressed sexual urges to be with a man", but "also acting out on repressed intimacy in general".[79] He spoke of how he has found the experience of playing Dale cathartic, as he "like[s] to lean into the most awkward parts" of himself that he feels the character embodies. He added that the character's clothes are "designed to make him feel uncomfortable", such as "jackets that are slightly too big or pants just a bit too short", with Dale "rarely sighted out of work clothes".[80] 589ccfa754
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