Two Nurses, Smoking by David Means

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux on September 13, 2022

The stories collected in Two Nurses, Smoking depict the rawness of life, a savagery of experience that is occasionally tempered by love. Many of the stories involve characters who respond to circumstances beyond their control. Some make choices they will regret, but the future holds open the hope for better choices as the characters isolate what has gone wrong in their lives. The stories can be hard to read but a spark of hope or redemption or love softens most of them.

What do “Two Nurses, Smoking” talk about on a smoke break? A nurse who serially kills patients. Patients they expect to die. Medical equipment and the pain of kidney stones. Patients who are junkies. The scar a nurse earned in Iraq. Lonely roads and lonely people. Eventually, they talk about each other. All those topics, the reader realizes, are connected. Perhaps the smoking nurses aren’t all that different from the serial killer or junkies or doomed patients. Perhaps they can connect in ways that go beyond stories, beyond their common pain, to set their lives on a different path.

Grief and coping with loss, often manifesting in bitterness and incivility, are the subjects of “Stopping Distance.”  The reader might wonder how support groups that encourage parents to be stuck in a loop of loss, telling the same stories again and again, help anyone, yet a bereavement group allows two people to make a connection through mirrored pain. The story’s value lies in its insight about living with loss.

“The Red Dot” is a kayak in the distance that, as it nears shore, resolves into a kayak paddled by a Karl’s former wife, Debbie, who before she became an ex was afraid of the water. Karl talks about the argument they had when he saw her in the kayak. A character who knows Debbie wonders if the story is true because Debbie is an excellent swimmer. Did Karl make up the kayaking story or did Debbie tell Karl, for reasons of her own, that she was afraid of water? The narrator tries to unpack the truth as he considers the mystery of Karl’s life while attending his funeral and again years later. The story explores the concepts of trustworthiness and image as they apply to people we don’t really know.

“First Encounter” A man whose daughter saw him kissing another woman in a hospital parking lot is saved from exposure by the side effects of his daughter’s medication. The reprieve does not last because the truth never really goes away.

“Are You Experienced?” While cleaning their dope on the cover of a Hendrix album, Billy explains to Meg why he is justified stealing money from his uncle. Keeping money in the family isn’t really a crime and the money itself came from many years of farming, honest “money that came from sunlight and air and dirt, nothing else.” As they discuss the crime, Meg sees parallels between Billy and his uncle in their tendency to ramble about the past, traits that will one day make Billy just as vulnerable as his uncle. David Means illustrates the “what goes around, comes around” principle in a way that suggests the inevitability of karma.

“I am Andrew Wyeth!” is narrated by an artist who tries to become Andrew Wyeth. He requests a nondisclosure agreement from an assistant whose duty is to watch him work, record her observations in her head, and never tell anyone what she saw, all to create “the implicit secretiveness” of the artist’s endeavor. The agreement creates a sense of glamor and the impression that something interesting has been kept at bay, but it also shields the artist against his impulse to confess and the rumors that impulse might inspire.

The narrator of “Vows” looks back on his life and marriage and the lives and marriages of his friends through conversations and observations preserved in memory, “singular moments of astonishingly framed light.” “Lightning Speaks” is written as a series of fragmented paragraphs. The fragmentation might reflect the mental illness of characters who form connections and share memories or visions in an institution.

Nearly every paragraph of “Depletion Prompts” begins with the phrase “Write about,” followed a scenario — a kid confronted by a bully; wandering the woods to escape family drama; a baby born in a closet to a teenage girl afraid to disclose her pregnancy; your mother sneaking into a mental hospital to visit your sister — or a topic: toxic masculinity; the rage of feeling isolated during the pandemic. The paragraphs include notes about how the scene should be written, suggestions for happy and sad endings, how to connect the scene to others or “Use just the whispers, fragments of tense language, to build the fuzzy narrative that you carried.” The scenarios have whatever literary value a writer’s notebook might have, but the story works as a window into a writer’s mind.

My favorite story addresses the sadness of human existence through the eyes of a dog. Norman goes into the woods with a gun after his wife dies. He lets his dachshund off her leash and the dachshund gets lost chasing a rabbit. After a long adventure that includes a new family, we learn how losing his dog changed Norman’s life. The point of view is amazing and the story is heartening. “Clementine, Carmelita, Dog” is one of the coolest dog stories I’ve ever read. It’s worth the price of the volume.

RECOMMENDED

Terraform by Brian Merchant and Claire L. Evans (eds.)

Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux /MCD x FSG Originals on August 16, 2022

Terraform is an anthology of science fiction stories that were published digitally on VICE’s “digital speculative story destination” of the same name. Corey Doctorow’s introduction to this collection suggests the value of Luddites, defined not as people who oppose technology but as people who oppose the use of technology to benefit owners at the expense of workers. He embarks on a riff about the gutting of antitrust law before he talks about the need for science fiction that imagines alternative technologies, or uses of technology, in ways that benefit people rather than capital.

In a preface, the editors of this anthology are less ambitious. Boiled down, they explain that Terraform publishes stories by new or unheralded sf writers. An unacknowledged risk of focusing on new writers is that prose will unpolished and ideas will be insufficiently developed. Many stories in the volume suffer from those flaws. When an anthology collects a large number of sf stories from newer writers, the quality will inevitably be uneven.

The stories in the first section focus on technology. An online service streams cute animals without disclosing the ways in which the animals (and the people who work for the service) are abused. Archived records of personal activity are deleted by drastic means. A kid explains to her school why she’s opting out of technology that enhances her sensory experiences. Letters smuggled across the border are the only way for deported migrants to keep in touch with relatives in the US because they are not allowed to communicate over wires or wirelessly. A male prostitute whose body is occupied by other men is asked to allow an artificial intelligence to use his body. A ghost who looks like Ernest Borgnine becomes a guest on Jimmy Kimmel’s show in an effort to obtain justice.

The best story in the first section is “The End of Big Data” by James Bridle. A data crash made all private information available for the taking. Governments responded by criminalizing the electronic storage of data. The UN monitors compliance with satellites that seek out evidence of server farms. The UN’s response to its discovery of illegal data storage is drastic.

The stories in the second section are set in the future. An archivist talks about maintaining biobots in the form of moths. A girl’s life is influenced by a talking head she finds floating down a stream after it was separated from its organically grown body. An artificial womb permits external gestation. Sentient drones enforcing agricultural rules that regulate all of society are offered a safe haven in a cooperative community that gives freedom to humans and drones. A dog that receives an intelligence enhancement yearns for a simpler time. The failure of technology portends a devolution of humanity that inspires philosophers to ask whether humanity really matters.

I have a couple of favorite stories in this section. Robin Sloan’s “The Counselor” addresses society’s response to the public expense of caring for the aging as medicine finds new ways to prolong life. The solution: assign an AI counselor whose job is to encourage older people to end their lives. In Lincoln Michel’s “Duchy of the Toe Adam,” all that is left of a religious colony has devolved into worshippers of the toe who are at war with worshippers of the nose (having defeated worshippers of other sacrilegious body parts).

The third section is devoted to dystopian stories. The rebooted dead are plotting a revolution. Revolutionary elephants have taken over Phuket. Space alien refugees are treated just as poorly as refugees from Earth’s nations. A school transport drone mistakenly returns a refugee to her original home in Mexico. A band member wakes up on the tour bus and discovers that everyone on the bus, and perhaps everyone in Texas or the world, has disappeared. Zombie capitalists. All green card holders are deported. A corporation has been gaming carbon credits by storing all its carbon emissions.

The first of my three favorites in this section is Russell Nichols’ “U Won’t Remember Dying.” A kid who was shot by the police texts his future self as he waits for his consciousness to be transferred to a cloned body. The story is a powerful and timely. The second is Bruce Sterling’s “The Brain Dump.” Oppressed Ukrainian hackers suddenly become moguls in Sterling’s 2014 commentary on the difficulty of maintaining anarchy in a pure form. My favorite story in the collection is Jeff VanderMeer’s “Always Home.” The New People were originally machines. Now they are everything. They oversee the planet’s restoration to a natural state. One of the few remaining Old People wonders why the New People brought back nature but not humans. A battle for the future ensues.

Sterling and VanderMeer are the only writers in this anthology whose work I am certain I’ve read, although I recognize the names of a few other contributors: Tobias Buckell, Meg Elison, Sam J. Miller, Tochi Onyebuchi, E. Lily Yu. Doctorow’s introduction is interesting but, sadly, he did not contribute a story to the collection. Too many of these stories are insubstantial, more ideas for stories than stories given flesh, but more than half are entertaining.

RECOMMENDED

Creative Types by Tom Bissell

Publsihed by ‎ Pantheon on December 14, 2021

It is difficult to identify a unifying theme in this volume of Tom Bissell stories. That’s one of the pleasures of reading the seven diverse stories in the collection. No story is similar to any other story. If they have anything in common, it is the suggestion that the choices we make about living our lives always merit examination.

My favorite story, “The Fifth Category,” is rooted in recent history. A man named John wakes up on a flight and discovers he is the only person on board the darkened plane. The man is a former government lawyer who wrote memos justifying the torture of American prisoners who were arbitrarily classified as enemy combatants, a lawyer who refuses to acknowledge his role in crimes against humanity. We aren’t told his last name but the character is obviously modeled upon John Yoo. The flight forces him to confront a reality that he had only considered in the abstract. The story is nuanced and somewhat sympathetic to Yoo without whitewashing his willful failure to anticipate the foreseeably ugly consequences of his work.

Four of the stories are, like “The Fifth Category,” smart and provocative:

The Jewish women who want to worship in an Italian synagogue are allowed to sit in a cage “if there’s room.” A tourist protests religiously inspired social injustice by removing his yarmulke, provoking a confrontation with the tour guide.

A writer whose older brother was killed while trying to prevent a crime eventually writes a critical article about a New York City vigilante who calls himself the Avenger. When the Avenger agrees to be interviewed, it is the writer who must answer questions about his failure to engage with his brother’s death.

Two men who were high school bullies together in the Midwest reunite in New York City. One of the men, now working as an editor, has changed. His visiting friend is still an ignorant, bullying bigot, a fact that triggers the editor as he’s forced to remember the person he once was.

An American makes friends with a Greyhound that attacks him in Estonia, then invites the Greyhound’s owner (the wealthy daughter of a criminal) to do coke. The daughter expects to make out with the American, but he’s more interested in discussing the philosophy of existence, an interest that forces the woman to think about the emptiness of her life and encourages a non-sexual bond of friendship.

The final two stories were less interesting to me, although they might resonate with (in the first case) couples with young children or (in the second) fans of Hollywood celebrities:

A hooker talks about her life with a Hollywood couple that hires her to spice up their post-baby sex life. The reality of life intrudes on the fantasy of spice.

An assistant to James (obviously James Franco) ponders his life before and after he makes an innocent mistake as Seth (obviously Seth Rogen) and James wrestle with a Saturday Night Live monologue.

The diversity of subject matter and the qualify of Bissell’s writing assures that most readers will find something to like in this collection. I found nothing to dislike. Five of the seven appealed to me, a pretty good batting average for any writer.

RECOMMENDED

Her Second Death by Melinda Leigh

Published by Amazon Original Stories on December 7, 2021

“Her Second Death” is part of the Amazon original short story series. It is billed as a prequel to the Bree Taggert series. The story has the feel of something that was dashed off in a couple of hours.

Detective Bree Taggert, newly assigned to homicide, investigates a shooting death. The victim was found in his car. When she contacts the victim’s wife, she learns that the wife was living apart from the victim and that he had their daughter for an overnight visitation. The missing child is a little blonde girl because of course it is.

Bree has empathy for the little girl because she hid under the porch during her parents’ murder-suicide. Because of course she did.

The police perform a bit of obvious police work that leads them to an obvious conclusion. The story generates no suspense because of course a little blonde girl isn’t going to be harmed in a story like this. Melinda Leigh makes no effort to make the reader feel she’s even at risk.

Nor is Bree ever at much risk, although weapons are pulled on her a couple of times. Her complete absence of situational awareness would be distressing if she were a real cop.

Like most missing child stories, this is a lazy effort at storytelling. If you really want to read about a missing kid, check out the review before this one. Winter Water tells a clever story. “Her Second Death” just isn’t interesting.

NOT RECOMMENDED

Orgy by Kaitlyn Greenidge

Published digitally on Scribd on July 23, 2021

“Orgy” is the first true “pandemic story” I’ve encountered. I’m sure many more are on the way, but “Orgy” is a short story and presumably made it to market more quickly than the pandemic novels we’ll soon see.

Nessa is “closer to forty than girlhood.” She lives in Brooklyn with her roommate Laurie, a writer who specializes in essays about the microaggressions displayed by white women who wear yoga pants. Nessa is fed up with social distancing, although she understands its necessity. It is nevertheless interfering with a sex life that was once active and varied.

Nessa is bisexual and, when she plays the game of looking at subway passengers and asking herself whether she would sleep with them, searches for ways to say yes. Yet Nessa’s regular booty-call partners aren’t risking contact with her during the pandemic, presumably because they regard her as a “third-tier friend — not worth the risk of sharing a restaurant meal with. It is a cold reckoning at the end of the world.”

Nessa receives an email inviting her to an orgy. She believes the email is from members of the furry community and that the orgy will be a costume party, so she dons her pig nose and tail, rips some holes in her leotards, and sets out into the night over her roommate’s objection that she’s breaching the lockdown. The orgy isn’t quite what she expects, in part because she receives an unexpected reaction to a story she likes to tell, a story that is “one of the foundational myths of herself.”

The desire to scratch an itch after a pandemic-induced dry spell is an interesting concept for a story, but the story’s greater interest lies in the impact of the pandemic on New Yorkers. Nessa has recently delivered groceries to a 15-year-old girl who refused to wear a mask and became ill with COVID. As she ponders the girl’s decision to make “a potentially dumb choice just to feel something like free,” she wonders if that is exactly what she is doing by attending an orgy. Yet “the pure glory of having a body and being alive” is something she has felt since she arrived in New York.

The story’s closing paragraphs suggest that Nessa doesn’t need an orgy to understand that sexual freedom is still essential to her sense of self. “Orgy” thus not only delivers insight into the protagonist butoffers a larger view of how the pandemic has collectively affected the lives of people who have taken it seriously and those who have not.

RECOMMENDED