The stories all fit the slice of life style I studied in college twenty-plus years ago, though much more developed and filled out. The darkest element was what was not written; the ambiguity. The stories ended with little-to-no closure after setting up tense scenes, elaborate intertwining storylines, and characters the reader can easily become vested in. For example, in the story “On the Show” we are left wondering if the perpetrator of an awful child-molestation act at a carnival is caught during the on-going police investigation. While the story follows the momentary lives of several characters at the carnival, his identity is casually revealed near the end as he thinks about his wife and daughter following a cattle competition he had just hosted:
But he doesn’t care for the pointless velocity of the carnival amusements. Looking out at the whirling skyline of the fair, he can’t help thinking about all the earth you could move, all the beef you could haul with so much fuel and good steal. He thinks, too, of last night, of the boy in the Honeypot, and feels a pleasant ache, like being rasped on the back of the sternum with a jeweler’s file. There’s a want in him to take a stroll around, but he pushes it down. (Nook Ed., p. 148)With exception to the title story, I found myself struggling to accept the stories’ endings; I wasn’t ready to finish when they did. The lush prose and witty language made for compelling page turning, but the endings left too much unresolved.
I did something I don’t normally do when I write a book response or review: I read some online reviews by other readers to see how they responded as I work my way through my own takeaways. Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned was loved by many readers though a handful disliked the lack of closure displaying the same feelings I had when I finally put the book down. Going back to my original point, it’s what wasn’t written that caught my attention. It was intentional to create discomfort, depicting the uncertainty of the real world. Not everything has a clean ending, or an ending at all, as we move through time and space interacting with each other.
As far as writing craft goes, it’s difficult for me to find specific focus on what I may have gained from Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned as I did from other recent books this year. His writing style shares many craft elements to my own. I will say this, though, it gave me a new respect for taking chances, particularly leaving stories intentionally open-ended. And it has spurred a new thought-process worth considering in forcing the reader to make connections and draw conclusions. I’m sure a few readers were put off for this reason, but I embraced it the trust and confidence Tower put on me.
Hey David, great post. It's good to read a range of authors, and perhaps the aesthetic kinship you feel with Tower will be helpful to you in ways other than the nuts-and-bolts craft lessons you've been looking for in the other books you've been reading. At the very least, the fact that you recognize elements of Tower's writing style in your own work should reinforce your confidence: if Tower can do it, why not Griffith?
ReplyDeleteI agree with your overall assessment of the book. For me, the title story sticks out as unique among contemporary short fiction -- not to mention within the collection itself -- for exactly what you mention: the odd juxtaposition of ancient history and contemporary diction. It's a vivid, energetic, fun to read (though very brutal) story. For me, the other stories are very good, but they don't stand out in my memory the way the title story does.
Unfortunately, in my opinion, the vast bulk of contemporary short fiction has a depressing sameness to it. It's rare, and good, to come across a story that insists on being different - which is why I also like some of the other authors you've reviewed, especially Saunders and Shepard.