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Leaves from the Smorgasbord

por Hank Kirton

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The third part of a trilogy that began with The Membranous Lounge, lurched uncomfortably to the left with Bleak Holiday, now coughs across the finish line with Leaves from the Smorgasbord-32 sugary pieces of fiction typed by 100 monkeys in a cold gymnasium. Leaves from the Smorgasbord explores madness, disease, deformity and dogs. It lays bare the uncomfortable lessons of damp dreams, aspirin intoxication and the stippling pattern of gun residue on a glossy forehead. It is a modern example of the, "Hey! There's a used Band-aid in the breadcrumbs!" genre of fiction.… (más)
Añadido recientemente poroddbooks, Lusanaherandraton, Hank_Kirton
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Leaves from the Smorgasbord is a collection of 32 stories but is only 181 pages long. Kirton is a master of flash fiction, but routinely nails longer stories, too. This collection begins with “Hello,” a story about a desperate fifteen-year-old girl reaching out for help as she experiences a bad acid trip. She randomly dials a number in the middle of the night, and reaches Don, a 47-year-old Asian man who is sufficiently alarmed and kind enough to stay on the line with the frightened teen until she feels settled and safe. Then the rug gets abruptly pulled out from under the reader with a nasty slap in the face. When I finished this piece I recalled Johnny Truant’s story of salvation in House of Leaves that turned out to be a lie that any astute reader understood was a lie. I missed the lie and had a warm feeling of relief, that Johnny, strung out and without tether, was finally going to be okay. At the end of that lie and “Hello,” I felt the same sense of “how the fuck can I, an adult in Current Year, still buy into and feel comforted by treacly examples of human beings at their best?” But I do. And it still feels bad when my faith in mankind is tested and mankind fails. But this story is also pretty much a fantastic way to begin a short story collection written by a man who was undergoing chemo or detox as he wrote it. Goddamn it.

This story was strange for me because it was short, consisted solely of dialogue, yet I felt like I knew Don at the end. I had the sense that even though there was no way I could really make such an assertion, Don was the sort of man who, even after being set up for cruelty, would not hang up the phone should another person call in the middle of the night, needing someone to talk to. I don’t think Don was ultimately bothered much – he was probably just relieved to learn no one was really in any sort of trouble. Don is sort of a placid lake onto which tiresome stones were skipped but ultimately his surface would smooth out once more. Don is a stable mooring to which the other stories are secured, keeping the reader from drifting out into a miserable sea of bad, baffling and surreal behavior.

This is a snippet from a much longer discussion over on Odd Things Considered. If you are interested in reading the whole thing, you can find it here: https://www.oddthingsconsidered.com/leaves-from-the-smorgasbord-by-hank-kirton/ ( )
  oddbooks | Apr 30, 2023 |
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The third part of a trilogy that began with The Membranous Lounge, lurched uncomfortably to the left with Bleak Holiday, now coughs across the finish line with Leaves from the Smorgasbord-32 sugary pieces of fiction typed by 100 monkeys in a cold gymnasium. Leaves from the Smorgasbord explores madness, disease, deformity and dogs. It lays bare the uncomfortable lessons of damp dreams, aspirin intoxication and the stippling pattern of gun residue on a glossy forehead. It is a modern example of the, "Hey! There's a used Band-aid in the breadcrumbs!" genre of fiction.

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