This is a humorous collection that deals with a wide set of issues like love, death, and politics, with some historical fiction thrown in. Almond’s use of slang and colloquialism in the narrative give the stories a sense of accessibility, but left this reader feeling there is something missing from the narrative, some important emotional element. Not all of the stories feel this way; some are powerful and linger in the mind after reading them. The story, “I am as I am,” is one of these, a coming of age story about a boy who accidentally kills another boy with a bat. And there is also “Summer, As in Love,” a tender and sad love story.
The language in these stories is more straightforward, less stylized, less wanting to be cool, which lend the narrative a serious hue that make the story wonderful. This decision makes me ponder the use of slang, witty and outlandish language in stories, and also for that matter, the easy talkative tone that many stories these days take. For the most part, if used in concert with a serious subject, this kind of language is amazing. I can think of Lorrie Moore as an example and Junot Diaz, whose street talk offers insight into the desperation of character or heighten the neurosis another character feels. That is not to say that witty language or clever descriptions are not necessary in a piece of serious work, but it needs to be balanced with the emotional weight of the story, which in my opinion, Almond fears getting next to.
In the title story, a woman slowly allows herself to fall in love, only to find out she’s been conned into loving the person, and then dumped. What makes the story entertaining is the narrator’s almost indifference to her lacking love life. When B.B. Chow apologizes for asking about her divorce, she thinks, “I don’t feel especially disappointed, though. I was married to a man who couldn’t operate a washing machine. I got out. The end.”
It is this kind of apathy that drives the story along. She slowly succumbs to B.B. Chow’s odd emotional sensitivity (he’s a doctor who cries), even despite his shortcomings, “Sadly, B.B. is not much of a kisser. He presses too hard, and he doesn’t know how to modulate the whole mouth-opening-tongue-moving-forward thing.” You accept the tone, and expect the story to finish on this note. That is why when she finally realizes B.B.’s been using the same lines on her as he has with other women, you expect a farcical remark that would show her anger and disappointment, instead of the serious prose that seems to come out of nowhere.
“I’m weary of moving through life in this way, punished for my capabilities, betrayed by the glib promises of love. I’m weary of managing these disappointments. I’m weary of my body’s gruesome tick. And I’m weary of telling women it can be different.”
I’m sorry, but boo hoo. If we had any clue that these were things she thought about or were hinted at, even from the narrator (who is first person), the weight of them would truly be felt.
The thing is, the stories feel like the author is holding back, but they’re still funny, full of great sentences like this one, “Self-deception, I’d told them, in my profound deeply feeling teacher voice, is the only worthy enemy.”
I just wish there was more than funny.