In Late Breaking (Littlepress, Stoney Creek), Meredith takes her first lover at the age of seventy-three. Jill originally made both characters octogenarians, but Dennis Little, who wanted them sixty-five at the oldest, compromised with seventy-three.
Late Breaking is a collection of ten interconnected short stories that total up to something like a novel. Each story begins with a painting by Alex Colville – I gave my own mother an art book of Colville's paintings years ago because she admired their fraught simplicity – and it was intriguing to spot how author K. D. Miller took inspiration from each image (I don't know if I've ever seen full frontal male nudity on a book cover like this before, but recognising the image, it portended well for me). Most of the (mostly recurring) characters are in their twilight years, but sex and love and making art out of their experiences are still given priority – it may take a bit longer to get ready to go out, but no one here is sitting around in rocking chairs. The themes here can get quite dark – death takes its toll with murder, suicide and sudden heart attacks; not all parents like their children; not all ghosts remain buried – but folks carry on and lean on friends and find their comforts where they may. I enjoyed every minute of this read. The stories:
Joan used to bring drinks out to guests. Would she have used a tray for that? She'd never let him help, that's for sure. His job was to entertain, be all chuckly and urbane in the living room. If there was ever a crash and a whispered “Shit!” from the kitchen, he would rise and go, saying, “My lady wife hath need of me.” Then, when she hissed at him to just keep out of her way, he would re-emerge, give the company a seraphic smile, and say, “Every day a honeymoon.” –The Last TrumpetAn elderly widower contemplates his own mortality alongside memories of his late wife. Full of twists and surprising moments.
Even her publisher had trouble getting over the idea of wrinkled bodies, greying pubic hair, two old people heaving together in mutual climax. So Jill, out of some perversity, always read the defloration scene, which she managed to make both grisly and funny. – Late BreakingAn aging author is experiencing her first real professional success – touring with the other finalists for a half million dollar literary prize in the weeks leading up to the awards ceremony – at the same time that she's recovering from the heartbreaking end of a romantic affair. Affectingly bittersweet.
As soon as Harriet's in, the second she hears the screen door bang, she feels an arm come round her neck. –WitnessA seventy-year-old woman is attacked as she returns, alone, to her cottage. I liked that this Harriet is a character referred to in the previous story (Jill, the jilted writer, envies that her friend Harriet lost her husband to a drowning accident “through no fault of her own”), and as much as I enjoyed seeing Harriet's own perspective on the loss of her husband, I was most affected by her response to the attack as an artist.
Whenever she walks past the police station on her way to the supermarket or the cleaners or the library, she slows her steps, sometimes coming to a full stop. An onlooker might think she was momentarily confused, even lost. But Miranda knows exactly what she's doing. She's weighing the pros and cons of pulling open the door, approaching the front desk and saying to whoever is behind it, I need to speak with someone. About something I believe I did. – Olly Olly Oxen FreeDark and twisted tale of a sixty-year-old woman who has spent a lifetime hiding a childhood secret. With rotating POVs from other characters, tension is nicely maintained as we wait for the secret to finally be revealed.
As he grew, he watched others for clues as to how to pass for anyone else. He cultivated a surface affability, an apparent warmth. Friendships with girls were easiest, he discovered, because girls came equipped with so many feelings. They could fill in the gaps. For a while, at least. – Octopus HeartWe learn the other side of the story from Eliot – the man who abruptly left Jill the writer in a previous entry – and it turns out that the only being who may have ever touched this man's stony heart was a captive octopus.
Not for the first time, Marion wonders what exactly it is that has gathered them around this table. Keeps Ranald and Patrick together in their condominium, and in a few hours will couple her and Steve in their bed. What name to give it. Love is too vague. Water under the bridge is only part of it. – Higgs BosonA meditation on what keeps a long-married couple together – the analogy to the Higgs boson (not glue itself but the property that makes adhesion possible) is nicely made.
Publishing. His students think it's the Holy Grail. Should he tell them that it's more like a drug? That the more you get, the more you need? – Lost LakeIn a revisiting to characters from an earlier story, this creepily Gothic tale sees a writer who took something that wasn't his pay a Faustian price. (As much as I really liked this story, I wonder if it makes much sense on its own; the magic is in the revisiting.)
Pastor Peter led the applause. His mother poked him till he stood up and turned around. All six feet of him. With his thinning hair and greying beard. At least they couldn't see what he was thinking. How easy it would be to kill his mother. That night. Pillow over her face. Not much pressure. Just long enough for the jerking to stop. – Crooked Little HouseAnother story with rotating POVs that revisits earlier characters and introduces some new ones – mostly about how people can surprise you with their generous hearts and hidden thoughts.
Remembering, Harriet has decided, is not like reading a book cover to cover or watching a film from lights down to credits. It's more like viewing a collage that keeps changing and rearranging its parts. A pale, tiny piece in the corner might suddenly shift to the centre and start to glow. A brand new colour will seep through from the back, where it always was, unseen till now. A defining shape will all at once be gone, leaving you wondering if it was ever there in the first place. – FleshMany characters from earlier stories are shown to be interrelated in surprising ways; relationships change and grow.
She went straight from her girlhood bed to Ramsay's. He punctured her on their wedding night. That's how it felt – push, push, then stab. It made her think of the word compunction. Once she was home from her honeymoon, she looked the word up. To prick severely was the first definition. Remorse for wrongdoing was the second. It was her first inkling that her marriage might have been a mistake. – In the Crow's KeepingAnother revisiting with earlier characters and storylines that serves nicely to wrap up the collection: an eighty-year-old woman goes through her memories as she attempts to preemptively declutter her apartment in the event of her death, discovering in the process that she's not yet done with life.
The longlist for the 2019 Scotiabank Giller Prize:
Days by Moonlight by André Alexis
The Testaments by Margaret Atwood
Immigrant City by David Bezmozgis
Greenwood by Michael Christie
Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club by Megan Gail Coles
The Innocents by Michael Crummey
Dream Sequence by Adam Foulds
Late Breaking by K.D. Miller
Dual Citizens by Alix Ohlin
Lampedusa by Steven Price
Frying Plantain by Zalika Reid-Benta
Immigrant City by David Bezmozgis
Greenwood by Michael Christie
Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club by Megan Gail Coles
The Innocents by Michael Crummey
Dream Sequence by Adam Foulds
Late Breaking by K.D. Miller
Dual Citizens by Alix Ohlin
Lampedusa by Steven Price
Frying Plantain by Zalika Reid-Benta
Reproduction by Ian Williams
The prize was won by Ian Williams for Reproduction, but my favourite was Michael Crummey's The Innocents.
The prize was won by Ian Williams for Reproduction, but my favourite was Michael Crummey's The Innocents.
