Daniel Talbot

This 1956 paperback seems to deserve a story-by-story review. Although the individual stories don't quite average out to my overall 4 1/2 star rating, the almost total consistency and excellence of this collection earn it an extra half star as a whole. If you can find it, by all means grab it.

Mateo Falcone by Prosper Merimee (****): If this is an example of the dark theme of this book, it's going to be quite a ride. This is a story about a father, a son, and about loyalty that you won't soon forget.

Previous Condition by James Baldwin (**** 1/2): Vaguely terrifying story of a young black actor down on his luck and facing discrimination in New York City. The story works because it portrays so well the first-person narrator's internal sense of defeat.

Soldier's Home by Ernest Hemingway (****): Soldier back from the Great War isn't exactly adjusting to life at home. I'm sure this reflects a lot of the lost feeling so many felt after returning alive from the hell of the war and perhaps the enjoyment of the occupation. Coming back to a place where small things are going on is a letdown when you've been somewhere that big things are going on.

A Painful Case by James Joyce (****): Sad tale of what happens when the lonely meet the lonely and a heart is too closed to reopen. Sad, but beautifully written.

Chums by Maxim Gorky (****): Oh my. The sadness and ultimate hopelessness of life deepens. Even friendship is a temporary solace, and perhaps a source of greater pain in the end. Another exceptionally well-written story as the darkness of this collection pervades everything. I'll need a miner's lamp to proceed further.

Why Don't You Look Where You're Going by Walter Van Tilburg Clark (**): Nothing to see here. Keep moving along and forget you read it, as it breaks the mood. Silly story that takes place on an ocean liner fails to achieve the higher meaning it is too obviously striving for.

Time Without End by Jim Thompson (****): Now we're back on track. This is about as depressing as it gets. I knew I could count on Jim Thompson for something truly soul-wrenching in the most pitiful way possible. 1939--he was just getting started.

The Wish by Roald Dahl (****): Terror of a different sort here, this time of a child. Sartre was wrong. Hell is not other people. It is something we create for ourselves.

The Runaway by Stefan Zweig (****): Contrived--yet intensely moving, the sad story of a man a long long way from home.

That Only a Mother by Judith Merril (**1/2): Not really a good idea to include a science fiction story from 1948 in this collection, which was published in 1954. When it was published, 3 years after the horrors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the fear of more nuclear warfare, this story would have rated a bit higher. It's well-written, certainly, as one would expect from the long-time editor of Fantasy and Science Fiction magazine. But 75 years later, it lacks the intended effect.

Where the Kings Die in Madrid by Alex Austin (****): This story returns us to the dark, unhappy life we have come to treasure. Nothing really to live for. Just moment-to-moment sensations. Good, bad, doesn't matter. Keep breathing or not. There were a lot of good stories and novels written in the 1950s about Americans in Mexico, often out of place there. That's definitely the case here. I haven't even been able to find this author on Google, which is beyond weird, although there's a contemporary author with the same name.

Last Visit by Christopher Lazare (*****): The best story in the book so far. This is really twisted. Some great lines: "It was almost physical, like the composure of an invalid, of someone who has spent a lifetime in bed or learned to live in an empty house with the shutters drawn and the curtains growing yellow on their rods." This is another author who seems to be non-existent on Google. There is an editor of the Tales of Hoffman with the same name. But who was this guy? This story apparently appeared in a 1944 collection of "new American writing" called Cross Fire. Did he write more? Let me know if you find out. On more reflection, this is sort of a Poe story, although not written quite as Poe would write it. In any case it's brilliant.

Hands by Sherwood Anderson (****1/2): I had read this one before, but somehow never actually finished Winesburg, Ohio. I'm not sure why. I misrembered the crux of this one a bit--I exaggerated it, which is the way memory works. Each time we remember something, we embellish it a bit and it becomes less true. In any case, the story is brilliant, but a bit old-fashioned in how it is told. But it fits perfectly info the darkness that pervades this superior collection of short stories.

Ball of Fat by Guy de Maupassant (****): So we come to Maupassant, whose stories I once thought clever and entertaining, only to realize how dark many of them were when trying to listen to an audiobook version of some of them. I was thinking of how wonderful "The Horla" was--but Maupassant is much darker than that. This one isn't upsetting, but it is a sad story of the seemingly bred-in inevitability of humans judging each other by class. I hope you feel sorry for little Ball of Fat at the end of this one.… (más)