[REVIEW] Witchita Stories, by Troy James Weaver

Witchita

Future Tense Books

200 pages, $12

 

Review by Ryan Werner

 

Previous general portrayal of the Midwest has been decidedly not-my-Midwest: Garrison Keillor’s rosy-cheeked shitheads and the good-guys-win-bad-guys-lose world of John Hughes. My Midwest is boredom and its trappings—drugs and sex and Tori Amos tapes—and as those ideas run through Troy James Weaver’s Witchita Stories, it does to Wichita, Kansas what Gummo did to sub-rural Ohio or what Alice Munro did to small town Canada. It shows how those not on the map survive without the map.

Opening jam “Summer” is the best of them all. It doesn’t go far, because nothing in town goes far. “My sister is sixteen and she’s already at that stage in life where she’s bringing over guys that look like Fonzie or Vanilla Ice.” That’s the first sentence, and I wish I had written it. I wish I had written the next part, too, about these guys and their bad music, their misappropriated styles. How the sister is distracted to a point of neglect and how hot it is outside and how you just won’t die one way or the other, won’t melt away in the heat and won’t freeze to death in counteracting it.

And that’s it. 329 words and maybe ten steps off the front porch, a walk into the kitchen to eat what your sister didn’t make you. Continue reading

[REVIEW] If There’s Any Truth in a Northbound Train, by Ryan Werner

Any Truth

Passenger Side Books

28 pages, $4

 

Review by Jonathan Russell Clark

 

 

In his essay, “E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction,” David Foster Wallace describes what he calls “Image-Fiction” as writing that “uses the transient received myths of popular culture as a world in which to imagine fictions about “real,” albeit pop-mediated, characters.” He cites as a practitioner of the art Mark Leyner, whose 1990 book My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist contains lines like, “I had just been fired from McDonald’s for refusing to wear a kilt during production launch week for their new McHaggis sandwich.”

Leyner’s novel and Wallace’s essay popped into my mind as I read Ryan Werner’s If There’s Any Truth in a Northbound Train, which seems to me both a throwback to that style and a cautious update of it. Like Leyner, Werner’s stories are filled with oddballs, off-kilter occurrences and pop references. And Werner also shares with Leyner an ability to distill a situation in very few words. One of Werner’s stories opens like this: “I didn’t marry a girl named Florence and then she won the lottery. That’s not the way I tell it but it sure is the way she tells it, like they’re related, like there couldn’t be one without the other.”  Not only is this a very funny line, it’s also remarkably economical––an entire relationship dynamic is established in a handful of words. Continue reading

Short Dark Oracles, by Sara Levine (A Review by Ryan Werner)

Caketrain

188 pgs/$8.00

 

I wasn’t necessarily losing faith in the modern short story before I read Sara Levine’s debut collection Short Dark Oracles, but I was experiencing a dry spell of sorts- a month at most in these saturated times- in finding stories that went beyond simple compound emoting, surrogate characters using bad dialogue, or weird anti-narratives with no foundation. I take only partial blame. This book, excellent as it is on its own in a vacuum outside of my life, became my reminder that people are still out in the world crafting peculiar tales that resonate with the humor and sadness inherent in any truth.

There’s natural propulsion to Levine’s sentences. One is a promise and the next is the delivery and the doubling of that promise. In “Must We Stoop For Violets In the Hedge?”she says,

“I was going through a phase in which it was difficult to eat, that is to say I needed to eat but did not like to feed myself because I was so disgusted with my personality at the time.”

Her skill works in more compact ways, as well, and earlier on in the same story she writes,

For years I had gotten by pretending to be bored with things that, in fact, I could only simply recognize, let alone understand.”

In the title story, she reveals even more in an even smaller space, trouble and beauty with an economy to desire: “Since his father’s death, Alex’s mother had become artistically wide, emotionally narrow.” Continue reading

Legs Get Led Astray by Chloe Caldwell (A Review by Ryan Werner)

Future Tense Books

168 pgs/$12

I remember being young because I still am. What is there to say about it? I met a lot of people, didn’t have sex with most of them, and then either left them or was left behind by them. This is the story of youth.

I wrote lots of things down, but I made up almost all of them: short stories about airplane-fueled daylight savings time break-ups in three different time-zones, cutting an old man’s head off with a Civil War era saber and driving it down to Mississippi; songs about Robocop and muscle cars, Porta-Potty sex at the county fair. If it was fiction, I made sure of its posterity. If it was true, I let it fend for itself.

Chloe Caldwell is an obsessive stenographer. This is about her and her book of personal essays, Legs Get Led Astray (Future Tense Books, 2012), but it’s about lots of other things, too. That’s why I can talk about myself and you can think about yourself when you read it.

Continue reading