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May We Shed These Human Bodies
***Best Small Press Debut of 2012 -- The Atlantic Wire***
May We Shed These Human Bodies peers through vast spaces and skies with the world's most powerful telescope to find humanity: wild and bright and hard as diamonds.
May We Shed These Human Bodies peers through vast spaces and skies with the world's most powerful telescope to find humanity: wild and bright and hard as diamonds.
150 pages, Paperback
First published September 14, 2012
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 104 reviews
October 25, 2017
I love Amber Sparks’ imagination and her way with words and the vagueness of her stories. She writes stories that are super short but filled with meaning and metaphors and hints of deeper darkness and I adore this. She writes longer stories that resonate deeply, often filled with fairy-taleness in a way that makes them feel both familiar and wonderfully original; I adored this too. The stories in this collection all share her special brand of weirdness - and weird short stories are my favourite.
My favourite story was hands down "when the weather changes you" - I loved the setting of a never-ending coldness and the desperate decisions resulting. I loved how this story is fairy-tale-like but grounded in reality. The framing device of a family myth really worked well for me.
Amber Sparks' manages to write stories that deeply resonate with me and I am somehow not capable of putting this resonance into words. I always struggle with reviews for short stories. I can say, however, that her brand of writing is highly fascinating to me and hat I am eager to read whatever she produces next.
My favourite story was hands down "when the weather changes you" - I loved the setting of a never-ending coldness and the desperate decisions resulting. I loved how this story is fairy-tale-like but grounded in reality. The framing device of a family myth really worked well for me.
Amber Sparks' manages to write stories that deeply resonate with me and I am somehow not capable of putting this resonance into words. I always struggle with reviews for short stories. I can say, however, that her brand of writing is highly fascinating to me and hat I am eager to read whatever she produces next.
July 27, 2018
Posted at Shelf Inflicted
This strange, experimental, imaginative collection is full of brilliant ideas and explores serious issues, but I felt many of the stories were a little too clever, wispy and insubstantial as air. I like the combination of magic realism, fantasy and horror and the variety of stories. There was enough weirdness and bizarre situations to capture my interest, and my enjoyment of stories by Aimee Bender and Kelly Link drew me to this collection. Unfortunately, the character development was lacking and I felt no connection to anyone. I’m sad these stories are already starting to slip away.
This strange, experimental, imaginative collection is full of brilliant ideas and explores serious issues, but I felt many of the stories were a little too clever, wispy and insubstantial as air. I like the combination of magic realism, fantasy and horror and the variety of stories. There was enough weirdness and bizarre situations to capture my interest, and my enjoyment of stories by Aimee Bender and Kelly Link drew me to this collection. Unfortunately, the character development was lacking and I felt no connection to anyone. I’m sad these stories are already starting to slip away.
January 9, 2013
Amber Sparks creates the kind of fiction that I’m now realizing is a sort of yin to my maximalist pomo yang. The elegant restraint and concision of the sort that I’ve been thoroughly enjoying since reading a few other (odd coincidence) A-name authors of a similar bent (Amelia Gray, Alissa Nutting, Aimee Bender) who also exude a real knack for the casually fantastical, the slyly and smartly surreal, the ability to burrow down into the whimsy and tribulations of childhood and the darkened corridors and ecstatic jags of adulthood alike, without skipping a beat or bogging down in one direction for too long—and doing all of this with well-worn tool kits of prose and poetics at the helm.
Death is a near-constant theme in these stories, but it is countenanced bravely and sensitively, toyed with, speculated freely upon, and spun in a multitude of directions. There are global societal visions of its effects, ghostly nuisances, karmic rebirths and re-rebirths, homicidal geriatrics, genetic curses, subzero temperature trends that change the course of human history, and more. (The concepts of familial belonging/bonding and the lack thereof also play an important and unifying role in these tales as well.)
This is a beautiful, smart, funny, painful, powerfully imagined and carefully crafted aggregate of narration and miniature world-building, and I strongly suggest you see it for yourself.
Death is a near-constant theme in these stories, but it is countenanced bravely and sensitively, toyed with, speculated freely upon, and spun in a multitude of directions. There are global societal visions of its effects, ghostly nuisances, karmic rebirths and re-rebirths, homicidal geriatrics, genetic curses, subzero temperature trends that change the course of human history, and more. (The concepts of familial belonging/bonding and the lack thereof also play an important and unifying role in these tales as well.)
This is a beautiful, smart, funny, painful, powerfully imagined and carefully crafted aggregate of narration and miniature world-building, and I strongly suggest you see it for yourself.
October 26, 2012
THIS REVIEW WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED AT THE NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.
As its title suggests, May We Shed These Human Bodies (Curbside Splendor) by Amber Sparks is a collection of stories that is grounded in reality, but often has a hint of the surreal, the supernatural, woven into its fabric. The power in these stories comes from the awareness that a life is at a tipping point, and the assignment of emotional weight to everyday events we typically ignore. Just out of sight, behind the curtain, in the shadows, strange things are happening—dark moments that echo our secrets and lies.
Many of the stories utilize lists and numbers to condense great yawning chasms of time, place, and horror into compact observations that leave us dented and eager for repair. Take this passage from “The Chemistry of Objects,” which elevates a common canister to sinister and far-reaching proportions:
“Exhibit 5WW: Metal Canister. Discovered at Majdanek, 1944.
The casual observer may, at first glance, mistake the canister behind the glass for a dented coffee can. The label is almost entirely gone, the faded gold paper clinging in shreds to the flaking, rusted metal. But if the visitor looks closely at the largest shred they may make out a group of small black letters, gone indigo with age and sun. Giftgas! the letters shout. How funny it sounds, like a children’s party favor. How exciting! A handful of bright plastic packets. Laughing gas tied off with curled satin ribbons.
But the letters do not shout in English, and the contents of the canister were never meant to be merry. The word is German. The English translation: poison gas. This can is not a coffee can, and it has never contained beans or laughing gas or party favors; it has instead poured pellets of gas into sealed chambers through special vents, smothering those inside. Polish Jews who’d never seen the sea, drowned in their own blood.”
What Amber Sparks does so well here is conjure up a memory of genocide by merely staring at a canister in a display case. To one person the meaning and graphics are merely an amusement, a bit of history, one moment in a sea of other moments. But to many others this object is horrific, emblematic of a greater evil in the world, one that cut a wide swath of destruction. And this is how she pulls us in and tears us apart—by using history, mythology, magic and the unknown to tell us her fables and dark truths.
In one of my favorite stories in the collection, “The World After This One,” Sparks tells us the story of two very different sisters. Esther is the reliable one, the conservative and worrisome sister, while Ellie is the wandering beauty, lost in her thoughts, lost in the world, connecting in whatever ways she can. This touching story about family is accurate in its depiction of how siblings relate. One day you’re defending your sister, saving her from the wretched grip of a dark and violent world, and the next day you’re dispensing judgment yourself—questioning her actions, yelling at her for being irresponsible and aloof. Take this moment from early in the story:
“Once, when Esther was in college, she told her father she was going on a Youth Ministry camping trip. Instead she drove the three hours to the city, picked up Ellie and took her to the shore for a week.
Ellie grew obsessed with the slot machines. On the beach, she gave her room number to several strange men. Esther had to keep answering the door in the middle of the night and explaining to seedy men with goatees that her sister wasn’t well.
Why would you want to sleep with all those people? Esther had asked her sister, exasperated and sad. Ellie had smiled. In just two days of sun her hair had gone nearly white and a big chunk of it fell over her eye, making her look like a sunburned Veronica Lake.
I’m allowing them to become gods, she had explained helpfully. Esther has not taken her anywhere since.”
There is a gentle and gracious wisdom in the words of Ellie, even if she is naïve and a victim in the making. It’s unclear which is worse—taking these chances that are sure to lead to trouble, or separating yourself from the world so that you can never get hurt?
There are insights in these stories, moments where Sparks sheds light on a wide range of emotional truths, leaving us nodding our heads, searching for breath, trying to quiet our beating hearts. In “You Will Be the Living Equation” we touch on the subject of loss and pain and the kinds of people that approach us in our grief. The first kind sympathizes and offers up their own memories of grief. This is the second:
“The second kind will sit with you in silence. They will have nothing to say, because they will understand that pain is not something that can be shared or solved, that pain is not a checklist or a questionnaire. They will understand that pain is not only loss, is not only sad, is not only one thing and not sometimes another thing altogether. That pain is not quantitative, but that it can be marked off with chalk lines on a cell wall just the same. That pain is not a landscape, and yet we carefully map its roads, its quick peaks, its long dips and even the smudges on the page that obscure intention or effect. That pain is not psychic, but that it does sometimes offer a moment of brief, bright clarity.”
And isn’t that so true? This is such a concise and brilliant observation. And whether Sparks it talking about loss and grief, or the way that a child’s hand tucked inside your own can fill your heart with peace and love—we are constantly rewarded with moments of depth, and consideration for our own frenetic lives.
I’m always drawn to the darker aspects of life, because I find it interesting to see how people deal with conflict and chaos, how characters reveal their true nature in these accelerated moments of anxiety and despair. Amber Sparks is not afraid to step into the darkness and paint bleak portraits of consequence and pain. Take this passage from “When the Weather Changes You”:
“You have them, she said, her voice surprisingly deep and strong. You have them in your heart, too. Just like me. Her face was purple and mottled, and her mouth collapsed into itself like a rotten fruit.
What, Gramama, I asked, trying not to get too close. The sour smell of death was in the bedclothes. What do I have in my heart?
Ashes, she said. Your heart is full of ashes.”
And this:
“After a while, it became common to see strange snow angels here and there. Dead children splayed in dreadful poses, wingless and blue and covered in ice. The crows would circle in frustration, bewildered by the slow rate of decomposition and decay, unable to peck at the eyeballs hard as glass.”
First, this is a horrible thing to say to your great-granddaughter—unless of course, it’s true. Then it’s something of a gift, isn’t it? But the second paragraph, the crows pecking at the frozen eyes of the fallen children, it’s a powerful image, haunting and disturbing, stealing a moment from our childhood, these snow angels, and turning them into angels of death.
In this powerful debut collection of short stories, May We Shed These Human Bodies, Amber Sparks has written a surreal love letter to our past histories—placed a message in a bottle and dropped into a raging sea, so that our future loves may hear what we have to say. Maybe these notes will declare our steadfast loyalties and maybe they will be riddled with dark threats and doomsday predictions. Either way, they will certainly not be meek.
As its title suggests, May We Shed These Human Bodies (Curbside Splendor) by Amber Sparks is a collection of stories that is grounded in reality, but often has a hint of the surreal, the supernatural, woven into its fabric. The power in these stories comes from the awareness that a life is at a tipping point, and the assignment of emotional weight to everyday events we typically ignore. Just out of sight, behind the curtain, in the shadows, strange things are happening—dark moments that echo our secrets and lies.
Many of the stories utilize lists and numbers to condense great yawning chasms of time, place, and horror into compact observations that leave us dented and eager for repair. Take this passage from “The Chemistry of Objects,” which elevates a common canister to sinister and far-reaching proportions:
“Exhibit 5WW: Metal Canister. Discovered at Majdanek, 1944.
The casual observer may, at first glance, mistake the canister behind the glass for a dented coffee can. The label is almost entirely gone, the faded gold paper clinging in shreds to the flaking, rusted metal. But if the visitor looks closely at the largest shred they may make out a group of small black letters, gone indigo with age and sun. Giftgas! the letters shout. How funny it sounds, like a children’s party favor. How exciting! A handful of bright plastic packets. Laughing gas tied off with curled satin ribbons.
But the letters do not shout in English, and the contents of the canister were never meant to be merry. The word is German. The English translation: poison gas. This can is not a coffee can, and it has never contained beans or laughing gas or party favors; it has instead poured pellets of gas into sealed chambers through special vents, smothering those inside. Polish Jews who’d never seen the sea, drowned in their own blood.”
What Amber Sparks does so well here is conjure up a memory of genocide by merely staring at a canister in a display case. To one person the meaning and graphics are merely an amusement, a bit of history, one moment in a sea of other moments. But to many others this object is horrific, emblematic of a greater evil in the world, one that cut a wide swath of destruction. And this is how she pulls us in and tears us apart—by using history, mythology, magic and the unknown to tell us her fables and dark truths.
In one of my favorite stories in the collection, “The World After This One,” Sparks tells us the story of two very different sisters. Esther is the reliable one, the conservative and worrisome sister, while Ellie is the wandering beauty, lost in her thoughts, lost in the world, connecting in whatever ways she can. This touching story about family is accurate in its depiction of how siblings relate. One day you’re defending your sister, saving her from the wretched grip of a dark and violent world, and the next day you’re dispensing judgment yourself—questioning her actions, yelling at her for being irresponsible and aloof. Take this moment from early in the story:
“Once, when Esther was in college, she told her father she was going on a Youth Ministry camping trip. Instead she drove the three hours to the city, picked up Ellie and took her to the shore for a week.
Ellie grew obsessed with the slot machines. On the beach, she gave her room number to several strange men. Esther had to keep answering the door in the middle of the night and explaining to seedy men with goatees that her sister wasn’t well.
Why would you want to sleep with all those people? Esther had asked her sister, exasperated and sad. Ellie had smiled. In just two days of sun her hair had gone nearly white and a big chunk of it fell over her eye, making her look like a sunburned Veronica Lake.
I’m allowing them to become gods, she had explained helpfully. Esther has not taken her anywhere since.”
There is a gentle and gracious wisdom in the words of Ellie, even if she is naïve and a victim in the making. It’s unclear which is worse—taking these chances that are sure to lead to trouble, or separating yourself from the world so that you can never get hurt?
There are insights in these stories, moments where Sparks sheds light on a wide range of emotional truths, leaving us nodding our heads, searching for breath, trying to quiet our beating hearts. In “You Will Be the Living Equation” we touch on the subject of loss and pain and the kinds of people that approach us in our grief. The first kind sympathizes and offers up their own memories of grief. This is the second:
“The second kind will sit with you in silence. They will have nothing to say, because they will understand that pain is not something that can be shared or solved, that pain is not a checklist or a questionnaire. They will understand that pain is not only loss, is not only sad, is not only one thing and not sometimes another thing altogether. That pain is not quantitative, but that it can be marked off with chalk lines on a cell wall just the same. That pain is not a landscape, and yet we carefully map its roads, its quick peaks, its long dips and even the smudges on the page that obscure intention or effect. That pain is not psychic, but that it does sometimes offer a moment of brief, bright clarity.”
And isn’t that so true? This is such a concise and brilliant observation. And whether Sparks it talking about loss and grief, or the way that a child’s hand tucked inside your own can fill your heart with peace and love—we are constantly rewarded with moments of depth, and consideration for our own frenetic lives.
I’m always drawn to the darker aspects of life, because I find it interesting to see how people deal with conflict and chaos, how characters reveal their true nature in these accelerated moments of anxiety and despair. Amber Sparks is not afraid to step into the darkness and paint bleak portraits of consequence and pain. Take this passage from “When the Weather Changes You”:
“You have them, she said, her voice surprisingly deep and strong. You have them in your heart, too. Just like me. Her face was purple and mottled, and her mouth collapsed into itself like a rotten fruit.
What, Gramama, I asked, trying not to get too close. The sour smell of death was in the bedclothes. What do I have in my heart?
Ashes, she said. Your heart is full of ashes.”
And this:
“After a while, it became common to see strange snow angels here and there. Dead children splayed in dreadful poses, wingless and blue and covered in ice. The crows would circle in frustration, bewildered by the slow rate of decomposition and decay, unable to peck at the eyeballs hard as glass.”
First, this is a horrible thing to say to your great-granddaughter—unless of course, it’s true. Then it’s something of a gift, isn’t it? But the second paragraph, the crows pecking at the frozen eyes of the fallen children, it’s a powerful image, haunting and disturbing, stealing a moment from our childhood, these snow angels, and turning them into angels of death.
In this powerful debut collection of short stories, May We Shed These Human Bodies, Amber Sparks has written a surreal love letter to our past histories—placed a message in a bottle and dropped into a raging sea, so that our future loves may hear what we have to say. Maybe these notes will declare our steadfast loyalties and maybe they will be riddled with dark threats and doomsday predictions. Either way, they will certainly not be meek.
September 23, 2012
from publisher
Read 9/11/12 - 9/18/12
4 Stars - Strongly Recommended to fans of short stories that charm, intrigue, and warn...
Pgs: 145
Publisher: Curbside Splendor
Releases: Sept 30, 2012
Amber Sparks has a knack for saying a lot with very little. The short stories in this collection range anywhere from a few paragraphs to a few pages long, and yet they tell their story more clearly and more entirely than some novels I have read.
This book popped up on my radar way before the review copies were available. And the wait was almost excruciating. Curbside Splendor teased us with the book cover, which is lovely, and shared blurbs by Amelia Gray, Ben Lorry, Michael Kimball, and Matt Bell, all of whom I've read and adored. That's always a good sign. And the title is just amazing, isn't it? May We Shed These Human Bodies. I envisioned people unzipping their skin, letting it fall off their shoulders and puddle down around their feet, as their robot-like inner spirits step out and shine like ghosts.
While I didn't find a story quite like that one in the collection (you have to admit, that would have been a cool one), I did discover a bunch of excellent tales about ghosts, of both the motherly and haunting kind; twisted spins on Peter Pan and Paul Bunyan; a nursing home full of cannibals; a city that longs to travel; trees that become humans; and a magical, mysterious bathtub.
The one I enjoyed the most happened to be the very first one that I read - Death and the People. It's the story of Death, who has come to Earth to collect a soul. But the people of Earth have grown tired of Death sneaking in and stealing the ones they love, one by one. So they stand their ground and bully Death into taking them all. It's a wily, cunning little tale that kick starts the collection and sets the bar incredibly high!
Amber weaves a wicked web with her words, saying what needs to be said without spending a lot of effort, trusting that her audience will have no choice but to be sucked in. And sucked in, I was. Her stories read swiftly, sting fiercely, and then retreat quickly to make room for the next. Each little world she creates breathes hard and fast and lingers with us long after we leave it behind.
I'd be very interested in seeing what she can do with a full length novel.
Read 9/11/12 - 9/18/12
4 Stars - Strongly Recommended to fans of short stories that charm, intrigue, and warn...
Pgs: 145
Publisher: Curbside Splendor
Releases: Sept 30, 2012
Amber Sparks has a knack for saying a lot with very little. The short stories in this collection range anywhere from a few paragraphs to a few pages long, and yet they tell their story more clearly and more entirely than some novels I have read.
This book popped up on my radar way before the review copies were available. And the wait was almost excruciating. Curbside Splendor teased us with the book cover, which is lovely, and shared blurbs by Amelia Gray, Ben Lorry, Michael Kimball, and Matt Bell, all of whom I've read and adored. That's always a good sign. And the title is just amazing, isn't it? May We Shed These Human Bodies. I envisioned people unzipping their skin, letting it fall off their shoulders and puddle down around their feet, as their robot-like inner spirits step out and shine like ghosts.
While I didn't find a story quite like that one in the collection (you have to admit, that would have been a cool one), I did discover a bunch of excellent tales about ghosts, of both the motherly and haunting kind; twisted spins on Peter Pan and Paul Bunyan; a nursing home full of cannibals; a city that longs to travel; trees that become humans; and a magical, mysterious bathtub.
The one I enjoyed the most happened to be the very first one that I read - Death and the People. It's the story of Death, who has come to Earth to collect a soul. But the people of Earth have grown tired of Death sneaking in and stealing the ones they love, one by one. So they stand their ground and bully Death into taking them all. It's a wily, cunning little tale that kick starts the collection and sets the bar incredibly high!
Amber weaves a wicked web with her words, saying what needs to be said without spending a lot of effort, trusting that her audience will have no choice but to be sucked in. And sucked in, I was. Her stories read swiftly, sting fiercely, and then retreat quickly to make room for the next. Each little world she creates breathes hard and fast and lingers with us long after we leave it behind.
I'd be very interested in seeing what she can do with a full length novel.
January 30, 2016
3.5 ☺️ I'll talk about it in my next wrap up.
August 7, 2012
I picked up this book from Pitchfork music festival, where they were selling a few extra advance review copies that they had. It was a total bargain and the book looked intriguing, and I was on a book-buying-kick that day, so I got it. I do not regret this decision one bit. The short stories in this book are a lot like chips - they are small, and very good, and you will sit down and read one and then read another and another and before you know it you've read half the book. However, even though most of the stories are very short, each one tells so much more than the small number of pages they are confined to. For example, one of Amber's stories, "Vesuvius", is less than a page long; but, left to the imagination, it speaks novels. I've read so many books with predictably twisting plots, an almost textbook sort of rise, climax, and fall and then end. This book breaks conformity, and gives you all of the imaginative little anecdotes I had been longing to read. The language was intricate and flowing, and the prose was beautiful. Perfect.
December 5, 2012
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this review, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)
Today's review comes with a bit of a personal bias; although I don't know author Amber Sparks other than being briefly introduced to her once at a party, her new book of stories has come out through our friends and peers over at Chicago's Curbside Splendor, a group that CCLaP frequently collaborates with for publicity projects and the like. But I wanted to make a mention of it here anyway, because I have to say that I found it really remarkable; and that's extra exceptional for it being a collection of unrelated stories, because I've gone on record many times before about how I find story collections not really worth people's time unless they truly are remarkable. These stories, however, are sharp and surreal, with tight little frameworks and few wasted words, the kind of diamond-hard pieces that raises this story collection to the top of that unending f-cking pile of mediocre ones that now exist in the world; and it comes as no surprise to me that such a collection would come from Curbside, because like so many local presses they have become razor-sharp at finding and nurturing astounding unpublished manuscripts. What a great time it is to be a literary person in Chicago! And I really want to encourage people to put their money where their mouth is, to actually buy and read these books instead of just liking them on Facebook and shouting from a distance, "Good luck with that!" I know the choices for new titles from Chicago publishers can seem overwhelming these days -- thank God they can seem overwhelming these days -- but if you want to boil it down to a very sure bet, May We Shed These Human Bodies definitely deserves to be on the short list.
Today's review comes with a bit of a personal bias; although I don't know author Amber Sparks other than being briefly introduced to her once at a party, her new book of stories has come out through our friends and peers over at Chicago's Curbside Splendor, a group that CCLaP frequently collaborates with for publicity projects and the like. But I wanted to make a mention of it here anyway, because I have to say that I found it really remarkable; and that's extra exceptional for it being a collection of unrelated stories, because I've gone on record many times before about how I find story collections not really worth people's time unless they truly are remarkable. These stories, however, are sharp and surreal, with tight little frameworks and few wasted words, the kind of diamond-hard pieces that raises this story collection to the top of that unending f-cking pile of mediocre ones that now exist in the world; and it comes as no surprise to me that such a collection would come from Curbside, because like so many local presses they have become razor-sharp at finding and nurturing astounding unpublished manuscripts. What a great time it is to be a literary person in Chicago! And I really want to encourage people to put their money where their mouth is, to actually buy and read these books instead of just liking them on Facebook and shouting from a distance, "Good luck with that!" I know the choices for new titles from Chicago publishers can seem overwhelming these days -- thank God they can seem overwhelming these days -- but if you want to boil it down to a very sure bet, May We Shed These Human Bodies definitely deserves to be on the short list.
February 13, 2013
Adding the Youtube Video Review:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVdK7h...
I really enjoyed this and reviewed it at the Collagist, which you can check out here:
http://www.dzancbooks.org/the-collagi...
Small segment from the review: "Amber Sparks, the fairy godmother of rebirth, has a wicked genius about her that transmogrifies the ordinary and makes us long to befriend the unusual gamut of quirky fiends that occupy her pages, even if it means losing a little skin in the process."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVdK7h...
I really enjoyed this and reviewed it at the Collagist, which you can check out here:
http://www.dzancbooks.org/the-collagi...
Small segment from the review: "Amber Sparks, the fairy godmother of rebirth, has a wicked genius about her that transmogrifies the ordinary and makes us long to befriend the unusual gamut of quirky fiends that occupy her pages, even if it means losing a little skin in the process."
May 30, 2020
I read Amber Sparks’ latest excellently titled short story collection not too long ago and really enjoyed it, but somehow forgotten her name, which is to say when I found this book in our library’s recent catalog (yeah, late to the game, but beats never) it intrigued and excited all on its own. Then I looked at the list (too brief) of her works and found And I Do Not Forgive You and remembered. In fact, having just revisited my review on that one, I find the things I like about Sparks’ writing haven’t changed, It’s just that in this book, her luminous debut, these things are most crystalized. These stories are trimmer, shinier, they are the long form poems, the diamonds, the bare essence of beauty. Sparks’ is laconic by nature, which I really appreciate, she hasn’t put out too many books out there and when she does it’s short story collection that are very short. Do Not Forgive was under 200 pages and this one is briefer still at only 150. But this isn’t mere linguistic economy, no, this is deliberate paring down, much like Michelangelo’s famous quote of creating David…he said he just took away all that wasn’t David. So this method allows for the best of words to be selected and put together with the best of intentions and abilities creating something close to magic. And, granted, much like magic, this isn’t for everyone. But for those who appreciate a sort of very odd very pithy very creative tales seasoned heavily with magic realism and inimitable style…well, you’ll love this. I loved it. These stories spoke to me like poetry I imagine speaks to some. Such pure distilled beauty of word crafting, such wild flights of imagination. Less heavy on the feminism message than her later work, more fairy tale like in style. The titles alone…Sparks can do titles right. Strange, memorable, evocative. Maybe that’s it, actually, Check out the titles first, if those work for you, proceed. If not, find something more conventional. But yeah, what a book, what a trip, albeit so brief. Great read. Recommended.
December 11, 2012
Copy received through the Goodreads First Reads program.
"There were no books in the Afterwards, which the people thought was some serious bullshit." I fell in love with that line instantly, and it's only 3 pages into the book!
What an odd little collection of short stories. I don't mean that in a disparaging way at all--I think there was only one story in here that didn't really work for me. Several stories toy with experimental story structure, which often puts me off. Here, though, it works. The overarching tone of these tales makes any sort of deviation from the standard seem like a completely natural fit.
Amber Sparks has written diverse set of extremely short, off-kilter, whimsical tales. Many of the stories in this collection are inspired by fairy tales, either directly or in flavor. They are quite short, too. The longest is 12 pages, but there are many that are only a page or two long.
The thing that strikes me most about these stories is how much Sparks says by NOT saying it. One of my literature professors explaining the “iceberg theory” and Hemingway’s writing style. The most important elements of the story lie in what is NOT said. 90 percent of an iceberg is below the water’s surface, and 90 percent of the meaning of a story lies below the surface, too. The stories in May We Shed These Human Bodies take up a lot more space than the slim volume would indicate.
This is a solid literary effort. I’m looking forward to reading more from Sparks.
"There were no books in the Afterwards, which the people thought was some serious bullshit." I fell in love with that line instantly, and it's only 3 pages into the book!
What an odd little collection of short stories. I don't mean that in a disparaging way at all--I think there was only one story in here that didn't really work for me. Several stories toy with experimental story structure, which often puts me off. Here, though, it works. The overarching tone of these tales makes any sort of deviation from the standard seem like a completely natural fit.
Amber Sparks has written diverse set of extremely short, off-kilter, whimsical tales. Many of the stories in this collection are inspired by fairy tales, either directly or in flavor. They are quite short, too. The longest is 12 pages, but there are many that are only a page or two long.
The thing that strikes me most about these stories is how much Sparks says by NOT saying it. One of my literature professors explaining the “iceberg theory” and Hemingway’s writing style. The most important elements of the story lie in what is NOT said. 90 percent of an iceberg is below the water’s surface, and 90 percent of the meaning of a story lies below the surface, too. The stories in May We Shed These Human Bodies take up a lot more space than the slim volume would indicate.
This is a solid literary effort. I’m looking forward to reading more from Sparks.
October 24, 2012
Some of the most inventive fiction I've read in quite some time.
January 19, 2013
Loved these stories from the brilliant mind of Amber Sparks very much.
June 5, 2017
I really enjoyed the writing style!
May 17, 2018
What, exactly, is it? Sparks's book wears many hats. It's a collection of short stories and flash fiction. At times, it's a series of lists: objects in an exhibit, school periods and corresponding homework, numbering/bullet points, character types (Mother, Father, Child, etc.), math equations, and boxing rounds. It's an entry into all points of view: first, second, third. You'll find longer stories that are plot-driven, flash fictions that are exercises in descriptive language or pondering theories. Bonus: the effect of varied forms is varied experience for the reader.
May we shed these human bodies: what does this polite request mean? Amber Sparks suggests shedding the human body is a means of ridding oneself of the possibility of being lonely or waiting for another body to comfort you. Dare I argue that every single story in Sparks’s collection uses the word lonely or alone? She writes, “Dream of throwing a blanket over your lonely life at last.” She writes, “You would always be the strongest, and you would always, always be alone.” She writes, “It will leave you utterly alone.” This device holds the collection together, although I can’t help but wish for more varied human emotions. I became exhausted by loneliness, wishing I could tape together the pages, merge the worlds of multiple stories, thus giving each character a friend (albeit a lonely one). Nor was I fully comfortable with these characters whose only mobility is down (sometimes literally down the drain).
Her varied form comes with varied tone. “As They Always Are” is a story that presents a mother with a baby whose appetite is vicious, though his mother is too sweet to care. When she dies, he never eats again, though he grows chubbier. How does he thrive? Why, the ghost of his mother feeds him at night, which we know only because his new stepmother is caught by the baby’s ghost mom while spying from behind the crib. The next morning, “when the sun rose, the baby’s nursemaid came to check on him as she did every morning. She found him lying on his back, eyes open and quite dead. All the fatness and pinkness had gone from him: he looked as though he’d starved to death.” Does seeing a ghost kill it? Was the dead mother no longer able to feed him? Was the jig up!? Sometimes the stories seem shocking for its own sake, and I felt like the writer was trying to be "cute" or "clever."
Sparks writes in the voices of trees, teenagers, ghosts, dictators, a city, poets, and children. If you’re not sure what you like, there are so many options in Sparks’s collection, and perhaps you like "Surprise! Something weird happened out of no where!" more than I do.
May we shed these human bodies: what does this polite request mean? Amber Sparks suggests shedding the human body is a means of ridding oneself of the possibility of being lonely or waiting for another body to comfort you. Dare I argue that every single story in Sparks’s collection uses the word lonely or alone? She writes, “Dream of throwing a blanket over your lonely life at last.” She writes, “You would always be the strongest, and you would always, always be alone.” She writes, “It will leave you utterly alone.” This device holds the collection together, although I can’t help but wish for more varied human emotions. I became exhausted by loneliness, wishing I could tape together the pages, merge the worlds of multiple stories, thus giving each character a friend (albeit a lonely one). Nor was I fully comfortable with these characters whose only mobility is down (sometimes literally down the drain).
Her varied form comes with varied tone. “As They Always Are” is a story that presents a mother with a baby whose appetite is vicious, though his mother is too sweet to care. When she dies, he never eats again, though he grows chubbier. How does he thrive? Why, the ghost of his mother feeds him at night, which we know only because his new stepmother is caught by the baby’s ghost mom while spying from behind the crib. The next morning, “when the sun rose, the baby’s nursemaid came to check on him as she did every morning. She found him lying on his back, eyes open and quite dead. All the fatness and pinkness had gone from him: he looked as though he’d starved to death.” Does seeing a ghost kill it? Was the dead mother no longer able to feed him? Was the jig up!? Sometimes the stories seem shocking for its own sake, and I felt like the writer was trying to be "cute" or "clever."
Sparks writes in the voices of trees, teenagers, ghosts, dictators, a city, poets, and children. If you’re not sure what you like, there are so many options in Sparks’s collection, and perhaps you like "Surprise! Something weird happened out of no where!" more than I do.
March 13, 2013
Amber Sparks has the weird, wondering imagination of a child that some adults wish they still had, but most have completely forgotten.
I need to buy a copy of this physically thin, yet figuratively full collection of short stories. SO creative, strange, silly and beautiful. I cannot wait for Amber Sparks to publish again!
And I almost forgot! Found a small note inside this library book typed on an actual TYPEWRITER (can you believe it?!?!) stating: "I really enjoyed this collection, I hope you do too! When I found out you had it on hold, it made me wonder what else you read and what you do for fun. If you like contemporary short fiction, try Amelia Gray- she is a favorite of mine. If you are brave say hello to me!" (email enclosed)
I love notes/scraps/forgotten bookmarks intentionally/accidentally sent between book-lovers via the novels circulating through the L.A. public library system. This isn't my first gem! But it's my favorite because of it's sincerity...I just hope I don't contract a computer virus after being brave enough to email this bookmark-leaving person!
Anyways...about the book. I don't want to give too much away, but her short stories (the longest being about 10 pages and the shortest being about 1 page) will pull your imagination in ways that most writing isn't daring enough to do. The collection is only 150 pages, but the stories are so poetically vibrant and strange that your brain may need time to cool off and absorb and reread before it can move on to the next odd tale.
Oh, and maybe weird, maybe not, but my husband's extremely beloved grandmother died today as I was finishing reading this book. The significance of this title and the death/life theme contained within is not lost on me, on this day...
I need to buy a copy of this physically thin, yet figuratively full collection of short stories. SO creative, strange, silly and beautiful. I cannot wait for Amber Sparks to publish again!
And I almost forgot! Found a small note inside this library book typed on an actual TYPEWRITER (can you believe it?!?!) stating: "I really enjoyed this collection, I hope you do too! When I found out you had it on hold, it made me wonder what else you read and what you do for fun. If you like contemporary short fiction, try Amelia Gray- she is a favorite of mine. If you are brave say hello to me!" (email enclosed)
I love notes/scraps/forgotten bookmarks intentionally/accidentally sent between book-lovers via the novels circulating through the L.A. public library system. This isn't my first gem! But it's my favorite because of it's sincerity...I just hope I don't contract a computer virus after being brave enough to email this bookmark-leaving person!
Anyways...about the book. I don't want to give too much away, but her short stories (the longest being about 10 pages and the shortest being about 1 page) will pull your imagination in ways that most writing isn't daring enough to do. The collection is only 150 pages, but the stories are so poetically vibrant and strange that your brain may need time to cool off and absorb and reread before it can move on to the next odd tale.
Oh, and maybe weird, maybe not, but my husband's extremely beloved grandmother died today as I was finishing reading this book. The significance of this title and the death/life theme contained within is not lost on me, on this day...
February 27, 2013
This is maybe one of the best books of stories I've read in a while, a kaleidoscopic collection of narratives that had a real emotional charge, even when the form and especially the contents of the stories were, well, pretty fantastically far-out.
I think the wrap on this book is that these are newvaeu fairy tales, and I think they probably fit pretty well into that whole Bernheimer axis, but when I was reading, I kept thinking "myth, not fairy tale," like what was happening that was odd in the stories was maybe more foundational, not local like you'd see in a fairy tale. There were moments that reminded me a little of Matt Bell's _Cataclysm Baby_, in the way the stories, one after the other, kept developing these new worlds.
I really liked this, and look forward to reading these stories again, for the way they changed shape partway through and only revealed themselves when you thought them well underway.
(I'm not sure I totally liked the weird, semi-tinted pages. It made me feel like I was reading a smudged up pulp book, but, despite the lurid contents, these didn't feel like pulp-- they were too poised for that, and made the printing them look gimmicky and out-of-touch with the stories, at least to me.)
I think the wrap on this book is that these are newvaeu fairy tales, and I think they probably fit pretty well into that whole Bernheimer axis, but when I was reading, I kept thinking "myth, not fairy tale," like what was happening that was odd in the stories was maybe more foundational, not local like you'd see in a fairy tale. There were moments that reminded me a little of Matt Bell's _Cataclysm Baby_, in the way the stories, one after the other, kept developing these new worlds.
I really liked this, and look forward to reading these stories again, for the way they changed shape partway through and only revealed themselves when you thought them well underway.
(I'm not sure I totally liked the weird, semi-tinted pages. It made me feel like I was reading a smudged up pulp book, but, despite the lurid contents, these didn't feel like pulp-- they were too poised for that, and made the printing them look gimmicky and out-of-touch with the stories, at least to me.)
December 16, 2013
This book of stories takes on heavy themes for a first collection - dementia, chemical weapons, the extinction of mankind, and bullying among them - and largely fails to do these themes justice. Choosing such content, Sparks might have set herself up for a nearly impossible task; other writers have devoted entire novels to any single one of these subjects, while Sparks breezes over each in a few pages. Her casual language throughout the book reenforces the feeling that she isn't willing or perhaps able to focus to the degree necessary to reveal a deeper understanding of the subject at hand.
As a placeholder for such understanding, Sparks' pieces offer instead strange perspectives and scenarios. The bizarre jumping-off points have captivated some of Sparks' other readers, but for me, whether the perspective is supposed to be that of anthropomorphic trees or an aging Paul Bunyan, the voice that comes through most clearly is Sparks' own, and it is the voice of a young writer who hasn't yet developed the capacity to turn an interesting idea into an engaging story.
As a placeholder for such understanding, Sparks' pieces offer instead strange perspectives and scenarios. The bizarre jumping-off points have captivated some of Sparks' other readers, but for me, whether the perspective is supposed to be that of anthropomorphic trees or an aging Paul Bunyan, the voice that comes through most clearly is Sparks' own, and it is the voice of a young writer who hasn't yet developed the capacity to turn an interesting idea into an engaging story.
October 21, 2012
Incredible collection of such diverse characters, forms, themes, and how shall I say it, realms of existence? The prose is youthful and inventive. The kind of prose that makes you thankful that someone finally put into words the emotions you have been experiencing or the things you have been seeing. All the stories have a sort of "magic" to them. Just finished it and I already feel like I need to reread it.
October 16, 2012
This is a diverse and exciting collection of stories and flash fiction. Both readable and formally inventive, comic and serious, contemporary and mythic, this is post-Nabokovian high literary experimental prose at its finest.
December 19, 2013
Wow. These stories are so powerful. They punch you in the face. (In a good way.) I am extremely impressed by the wide range of voices in this collection. Each story is a delight and surprise.
November 5, 2012
May We Shed These Human Bodies by Amber Sparks is a collection of thirty short stories, some of them a page or two in length. Most of these stories are modern fairy-tales gone wrong due to the inspiration of the idea of the fall of man. The first story in the collection, “Death and the People,” is a story much like Everyman and Dr. Faustus, yet more engaging and sarcastic. Death approaches the people and asks a single person to follow him to the afterlife, but the people are so close to one another that they tell Death that if one goes all must follow. Through much persuasion, the people convince Death to take them all to the afterlife. Like Dr. Faustus, the people don’t take Death’s warnings seriously. Away from earth, the people become restless and bored; because in the afterlife, humans don’t have the luxuries and means of entertainment they had on earth. They all drain Death to the point of annoyance. He goes to the Ones in Charge for advice. After the people are taken back to earth with a fresh start, there is new hope for mankind. The first thing the people speak of when they are back on earth, is “how they came to be.” Amber Sparks, or rather the omniscient narrator, gives the people, essentially the reader, a second chance at life—or an idea of what that would look like. She ends the story where other writers would start or continue. Will the human-race destroy the earth once more?
Each narrator in Sparks’ stories has a unique and distinct voice and point of view. She uses a third person omniscient narrator when a story deals with fables and supernatural events—a technique to distinguish immortality vs. mortality. A third person omniscient narrator achieves this by being in many places at once and has more information on its characters than the characters themselves; the narrator in a sense becomes God. In stories with more of a moral message with quotidian characters, Sparks uses first person plural or second person point of view to reach a broader audience when human emotions and common circumstances like loss, divorce, and relationships are presented. In “the dictator is drinking alone,” there’s a strong sense that something important has been lost in the dictator’s life, but the subjective third person narrator does not say what that something is. Sparks does a great job conveying a sense of grief and unwanted solitude in the dictator’s life with props like whiskey, cowboys, and an almost pathetic son, but that thing that the dictator has lost, is never named. All the reader gets in the end is Joey screaming for Shane to come back.
These adult fables deal with the deteriorating feeling of solitude, awkwardness, hope, despair, and loss all humans feel at one point. In “to make us whole,” an emotionally unstable mother sketches blood-flowing clouds on her children’s bedroom walls—she has no money to buy drawing paper. Her husband committed suicide after “being discovered in Disgrace” (morality plays in an important role in Sparks’ stories, to the point where sinful virtues become personified allusions). The narrator explains how her siblings have witnessed their mother’s erratic behavior since their father’s death. The mother’s emotions are understandable and sympathetic, but Sparks takes the reader by surprise when the common family go on a supernatural journey by having their new bathtub come to life—trees and dresses come out of it, even a human arm which transforms itself into family clones. Again, the story ends at the moment any other writer would label a climax rather than an ending. The outcome of this family’s life could’ve been explored more, but it “ends” abruptly as a way to leave questions unanswered and outcomes to readers.
In one of Sparks’ most visually detailed story, “the world after this one,” a young girl named Esther describes a life with an unstable sister, Ellie, her obsessively religious father, and a mother who almost seems to appear and disappear out of the living world.
“His gargoyle face is perfect for preaching, but bad for loving. Esther finds it impossible to love. The nose is too sharp, the cheeks too sunken. It is the face of an ascetic, a man who lives alone with his god and his demons. Now he shakes his head, like he’s coming out of a vague, bad dream, and continues on with his sermon. Esther shrugs and keeps typing on the old Remington. Her father thinks computers are the devil’s code machines” (42).
This is how Esther characterizes her father. The descriptions that follow are absolutely amazing. Esther’s father cannot love his daughters because every day, he is off trying to save people’s souls. He cannot be loved because he’s always wrapped up in an internal fight. Sparks’ characters are doomed to fail over and over again because of Eve’s decision to fall pray to temptation. What this means is that Sparks’ more mundane or “human” characters need to shed their corrupt skin to that of supernatural beings to escape what most haunts them; human emotion.
Each narrator in Sparks’ stories has a unique and distinct voice and point of view. She uses a third person omniscient narrator when a story deals with fables and supernatural events—a technique to distinguish immortality vs. mortality. A third person omniscient narrator achieves this by being in many places at once and has more information on its characters than the characters themselves; the narrator in a sense becomes God. In stories with more of a moral message with quotidian characters, Sparks uses first person plural or second person point of view to reach a broader audience when human emotions and common circumstances like loss, divorce, and relationships are presented. In “the dictator is drinking alone,” there’s a strong sense that something important has been lost in the dictator’s life, but the subjective third person narrator does not say what that something is. Sparks does a great job conveying a sense of grief and unwanted solitude in the dictator’s life with props like whiskey, cowboys, and an almost pathetic son, but that thing that the dictator has lost, is never named. All the reader gets in the end is Joey screaming for Shane to come back.
These adult fables deal with the deteriorating feeling of solitude, awkwardness, hope, despair, and loss all humans feel at one point. In “to make us whole,” an emotionally unstable mother sketches blood-flowing clouds on her children’s bedroom walls—she has no money to buy drawing paper. Her husband committed suicide after “being discovered in Disgrace” (morality plays in an important role in Sparks’ stories, to the point where sinful virtues become personified allusions). The narrator explains how her siblings have witnessed their mother’s erratic behavior since their father’s death. The mother’s emotions are understandable and sympathetic, but Sparks takes the reader by surprise when the common family go on a supernatural journey by having their new bathtub come to life—trees and dresses come out of it, even a human arm which transforms itself into family clones. Again, the story ends at the moment any other writer would label a climax rather than an ending. The outcome of this family’s life could’ve been explored more, but it “ends” abruptly as a way to leave questions unanswered and outcomes to readers.
In one of Sparks’ most visually detailed story, “the world after this one,” a young girl named Esther describes a life with an unstable sister, Ellie, her obsessively religious father, and a mother who almost seems to appear and disappear out of the living world.
“His gargoyle face is perfect for preaching, but bad for loving. Esther finds it impossible to love. The nose is too sharp, the cheeks too sunken. It is the face of an ascetic, a man who lives alone with his god and his demons. Now he shakes his head, like he’s coming out of a vague, bad dream, and continues on with his sermon. Esther shrugs and keeps typing on the old Remington. Her father thinks computers are the devil’s code machines” (42).
This is how Esther characterizes her father. The descriptions that follow are absolutely amazing. Esther’s father cannot love his daughters because every day, he is off trying to save people’s souls. He cannot be loved because he’s always wrapped up in an internal fight. Sparks’ characters are doomed to fail over and over again because of Eve’s decision to fall pray to temptation. What this means is that Sparks’ more mundane or “human” characters need to shed their corrupt skin to that of supernatural beings to escape what most haunts them; human emotion.
June 15, 2012
We're publishing this book in September 2012. Amber Sparks' short stories have been widley published in literary journals. We're pulling her work together to show it off. It will punch you in the face, and you'll be thanful for it. You'll thank us. Thank the universe. Thank America. Enjoy.
“In May We Shed These Human Bodies, Amber Sparks proves herself not only a fine writer but also a high scientist of imaginative bliss: This is a collection of marvelous inventions, each one a wonder-machine propelled by fairy tale and dream and humor and hope, ready to carry us off into new adventure."
-- Matt Bell, author of Cataclysm Baby (Mud Luscious Press), How They Were Found (Keyhole Press, October 2010), as well as three chapbooks.
“In May We Shed These Human Bodies, Amber Sparks proves herself not only a fine writer but also a high scientist of imaginative bliss: This is a collection of marvelous inventions, each one a wonder-machine propelled by fairy tale and dream and humor and hope, ready to carry us off into new adventure."
-- Matt Bell, author of Cataclysm Baby (Mud Luscious Press), How They Were Found (Keyhole Press, October 2010), as well as three chapbooks.
November 3, 2012
"Why can't you just be a little bit brave, the nurse sighed. Why can't you.
But you just can't, that's all. It's the one thing you have no talent for: being a little bit brave."
--Study for the New Fictional Science
Really enjoyed this collection. The story "You Will Be the Living Equation" ripped my fucking heart out when I read it in Annalemma a year or two ago, and it ripped my heart out again when I read it here. Beautiful.
But you just can't, that's all. It's the one thing you have no talent for: being a little bit brave."
--Study for the New Fictional Science
Really enjoyed this collection. The story "You Will Be the Living Equation" ripped my fucking heart out when I read it in Annalemma a year or two ago, and it ripped my heart out again when I read it here. Beautiful.
Read
December 11, 2012I read this a few months ago, but it looks like goodreads swallowed that review. Here's what I remember:
My favorite story (though there are many here) was "The Chemistry of Objects." In a collection this eclectic, it's hard to say that any one story's representative, but I remember reading that story and being really excited to read the rest of the book, which I think I did the same day.
My favorite story (though there are many here) was "The Chemistry of Objects." In a collection this eclectic, it's hard to say that any one story's representative, but I remember reading that story and being really excited to read the rest of the book, which I think I did the same day.
August 7, 2013
There is something about how Sparks puts words together, ideas in a sequence, that just is completely her own. People use the word "startling" too much, but that's what these stories are. They startle, and fascinate. Sometimes you read to be entertained, and sometimes you just marvel. This book is definitely a case of the latter.
December 3, 2012
The children are savory and tender, more delicious than the Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s.
The short stories in this book all have a fairy tale-like, ethereal quality. This is a very cool little collection for those who enjoy dark and bizarre fiction.
The short stories in this book all have a fairy tale-like, ethereal quality. This is a very cool little collection for those who enjoy dark and bizarre fiction.
June 11, 2012
I'm publishing this, so yeah I love it.
January 28, 2016
Lyrical and affecting. A great volume of micro-fiction (with a few forays into prose poetry as well). Carry this around with you to look cool and intriguing.
August 24, 2017
I adored Amber Sparks' second collection, The Unfinished World and Other Stories, which my parents bought for me from the wonderful Strand Bookstore in New York last year. I was therefore markedly impatient to get my hands on her debut short story collection, May We Shed These Human Bodies. Despite the moderate expense for a secondhand book, and the fact that I had to order it from the USA, I decided that it would be the perfect treat to read whilst on holiday in France in August.
May We Shed These Human Bodies has been very well received. Matt Bell writes that it 'is a collection of marvellous inventions, each one a wonder-machine propelled by fairytale and dream and human and hope, ready to carry us off into new adventure', and Ben Loory captures his thoughts thus: 'I always love a book that makes me fear for the writer's sanity. I'm over here praying for Amber Sparks.'.
There is almost an ethereal quality to Sparks' books; her prose is complex and multilayered. Some of the stories within May We Shed These Human Bodies are strange, and all are startling. There are some very short stories to be found within her debut, which run to less than two full pages. Others are quite a bit longer. The individuality of each tale shines through; whilst none of them are alike, the collection is coherent, and reads like a singular unit. This is helped, in part, with the unusual, intriguing, and quirky titles Sparks gives to her stories. Here, they range from 'The Monstrous Sadness of Mythical Creatures' and 'Gone and Gone Already', to 'All the Imaginary People are Better at Life' and 'The Ghosts Eat More Air'.
I could quote extensively from May We Shed These Human Bodies, beautiful and thought-provoking as it is, but rather than ruin some great surprises for those of you whose interest is piqued, I shall whet your interest by sharing the initial paragraph of 'The City Outside of Itself': 'The City longed to travel. He hadn't been anywhere in ages, and wanted to see what things looked like outside of himself. So the City asked his best friend Tammie if she would mind giving him a lift. Tammie took her gum out of her mouth and twirled it around and around her index finger, pink on peach on pink, while she thought about it.'
May We Shed These Human Bodies is a beguiling and absorbing collection, from an author who already has such a distinctive voice. Sparks' use of language is often beautiful and original, and sometimes loaded with meaning. A great balance of reality and magical realism has been struck. All of these stories here chill, and sing, and sparkle, and Sparks' playfulness serves to make the collection entirely surprising. Inventive, creative, and intelligent, May We Shed These Human Bodies became a firm favourite of mine on my first reading, and is certainly a tome which I hope to pick up many more times in the future.
May We Shed These Human Bodies has been very well received. Matt Bell writes that it 'is a collection of marvellous inventions, each one a wonder-machine propelled by fairytale and dream and human and hope, ready to carry us off into new adventure', and Ben Loory captures his thoughts thus: 'I always love a book that makes me fear for the writer's sanity. I'm over here praying for Amber Sparks.'.
There is almost an ethereal quality to Sparks' books; her prose is complex and multilayered. Some of the stories within May We Shed These Human Bodies are strange, and all are startling. There are some very short stories to be found within her debut, which run to less than two full pages. Others are quite a bit longer. The individuality of each tale shines through; whilst none of them are alike, the collection is coherent, and reads like a singular unit. This is helped, in part, with the unusual, intriguing, and quirky titles Sparks gives to her stories. Here, they range from 'The Monstrous Sadness of Mythical Creatures' and 'Gone and Gone Already', to 'All the Imaginary People are Better at Life' and 'The Ghosts Eat More Air'.
I could quote extensively from May We Shed These Human Bodies, beautiful and thought-provoking as it is, but rather than ruin some great surprises for those of you whose interest is piqued, I shall whet your interest by sharing the initial paragraph of 'The City Outside of Itself': 'The City longed to travel. He hadn't been anywhere in ages, and wanted to see what things looked like outside of himself. So the City asked his best friend Tammie if she would mind giving him a lift. Tammie took her gum out of her mouth and twirled it around and around her index finger, pink on peach on pink, while she thought about it.'
May We Shed These Human Bodies is a beguiling and absorbing collection, from an author who already has such a distinctive voice. Sparks' use of language is often beautiful and original, and sometimes loaded with meaning. A great balance of reality and magical realism has been struck. All of these stories here chill, and sing, and sparkle, and Sparks' playfulness serves to make the collection entirely surprising. Inventive, creative, and intelligent, May We Shed These Human Bodies became a firm favourite of mine on my first reading, and is certainly a tome which I hope to pick up many more times in the future.
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