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163 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
In the very first story I read: "I was drunk but not drunk enough to say what I wanted, that we don't live our lives so much as come to them, as different people and things collect mysteriously around us." and I realized that as I read Michael Byer's works I had come to them and they were collecting mysteriously in my memory.
His stories are filled with the compassionate appreciation of an older soul, and images that distill to fine liquor intoxicating the reader. In the story "A Fair Trade," one of my favorites, he describes a white room juxtaposed with what is seen through the window: "Through the windows she could see the garden:tomatoes and beans on their poles. the walls of her room were white, and so was the ceiling; only the doorknob, solid black enamel, stood out in the whiteness, like a single period on a page without text." And in so few sentences, places the character, like the single period of the black enamel doorknob, on the threshold of her new life. Other descriptions that sparked with originality: "...his squarish head hard and burled like a hazelnut."...and "In the morning Andie felt the expectant quiet of the house, like a cup held out to be filled."...and "he seemed desperate, like a salesman with a bad territory."
There are plenty of other shining passages throughout this collection of well crafted stories, and while I've rated it highly, it does have its inconsistent moments, but they are minor considerations. I hope Mr. Byers is at work on additional stories as these in this collection are most satisfying.