I’ve been reading James Salter’s Dusk and Other Stories, a collection of short stories from Salter’s long career as a contributor to high contemporary fiction. This is literature of the “literature genre,” the genre which insists its not a genre at all, but the sine qua non of writing, as if they were artist of the human condition and genre writers merely illustrators.
The New York times positively gushed about the stories in this book, but I went back to the well of the writer: A story is telling about a person with a crisis, what he or she is willing to do to overcome that crisis, and how she reacts to the success or failure. In Salter’s book, however, there is no overcoming. Nobody ever overcomes their crisis. They just muddle through, tragically.
Salter likes to tell his tales in glimpses. “Cinema” is about a film company falling apart after a big film utterly bombs, everyone involved knew it would suck, especially the scriptwriter, who knew the director and the actors were all wrong for the words he wrote. Salter jumps around, like a cinema verite director himself, point of view here, then there, then over there, never keeping us in place, making us read frantically and nervously. But what we’re getting is anecdotes: These people made a terrible movie, and they live in denial of the consequences. There’s nothing to overcome. They don’t even want to overcome. The writer consoles himself by sleeping with the director’s secretary: that’s as close as the story gets to coherent response to the crisis.
“Dusk” is about a woman dealing with being 46, as Tom Ford described, “Long past that moment when men stopped turning their heads to look at her.” Her husband left her for a younger woman, her son was killed, and in the story her lover announces that he, too, is moving on, and she is at best second-best. But again, the character never once moves to resolve her crisis. She just muddles through.
“Akhnilo” is about a managing ex-alcholic having a nervous breakdown. The main character follows a hallucination into the night, one that the writer describes with breathtaking beauty. In the final paragraph, the story comes crashing down again as he loses that beauty, and the camera suddenly jumps to his daughter, who in one gorgeous sentence reveals all the fear and heartache a child has when a parent wrestles with those kinds of daemons. But again, it’s not a story.
“Foreign Shores” is an insanely Freudian story about an American woman, her attractive Dutch au-pair, and the woman’s strange sexual notions about the au-pair and her six-year-old son, notions which are hightenend when she discovers, by illicitly reading letters, that the au-pair has been recruited by a pornography filmmaker in Germany. But her crisis is about how this beautiful young woman’s life is so interesting while hers is so dull, and by the end of the story… nothing. She seethes and hates, and changes nothing.
All of the stories in Dusk are like that: sad anecdotes about people seeing the world through lenses of ruin and chaos, the ends of days, of careers, of lives. Nothing changes: they just go on, convincted to their eternal withering. The tales are incredibly well-written, and I’ve taken notes, but if I wanted anecdotes I’d read poetry. Maybe that’s how these are meant to be read: as long prose poems, antipaeans to life.
1
Jun
2010
New Story, Boy from Brazil
1
Jun
2010
Continuing the ongoing ten-episode Yowlerverse series, the latest title, Boy from Brazil, is now up and ready to go. The story is coded M/M, slow. It was doing well as a character study, but it has a weak ending such that I wish I could have come up with something better. Still, it’s a pretty good story and a welcome continuation of the Yowler series. This story is dated to 1986.
4
May
2010
New Bastet story: Backlots
4
May
2010
Backlots, the latest Yowler story, is out. It’s a bit of a coming-of-age story, one of those small-scale shocks that those of us of the male persuasion sometimes have to deal with when we’re young and just figuring out where all the parts go. It’s fairly intense, although it’s sexual content is low. (At least, it was fairly intense for me to write, although it is not biographical.) M/F, mostly masturbation and voyuerism.
I seem to have missed the announcement from last month. In case you missed it, Club Boys was much more my usual speed: M/M, consensual sex, flogging in a public space, a fair touch of intensity and confession. It also has the “why Seattlites seem so fucked in the head sometimes” scene.
3
May
2010
From today’s WIP:
3
May
2010
The story is called Last Will, but I’ve got it in mind as Jessinica and Gwo, after the two main characters:
”But… how will I get back to my sarcophagus?”"You can hire a guide, if you need one. They’re much cheaper than lawyers, I assure you. Good day.” With that, a tophat materialized in vir hand. Vi placed it on vir head and walked down the empty passageway, disappearing around the corner, leaving Jess alone in the airlock cylinder, facing away from a circular door above which read Xajan (TRPV).
“Stick your linear navigator onto an analog scope and suck it!” she shouted at vir retreating back. ”Glider spaz! R-Pento! Barberpole! Block!” She angrily turned to face the airlock. ”Fine,” she said,taking a deep breath. ”Let’s see what mother left for me.
2
May
2010
Good News and Apologies
2
May
2010
I just paid my server bill, so it looks like y’all will have me around for another year. Thanks to everyone who contributed even a little bit last year, you helped put me over the top (it costs about $300 a year to keep this thing going). You’ll have access to The Journal Entries and the remaining Bastet stories for some time to come.
In other news, I’m sorry if you sent a comment to the blog and it didn’t get approved in a timely fashion. It seems I’m not getting the emails I’m supposed to. (I’m also having some very weird interactions between this blog and my LiveJournal account that I need to iron out.)