According to CTV, Light Lifting is a work of "ferocious physicality" and I think that pretty much sums it up. From the beautiful athletic forms of mid-distance runners (Miracle Mile) and lifeguards (Adult Beginner I) to the grotesque -- the baby diarrhea that soaks through a diaper from foot to neck in Wonder About Parents and the grapefruit sized hernia on the belly of the mostly naked Barney in The Loop -- people are described in unsparing terms, without judgement, their outsides often mirroring exactly who they are on the inside (no matter how JC tries to change himself in the title story, Light Lifting, there is no escaping what he appears to be). There are fights -- brawls -- and road hockey and bicycling and running and hard labour and swimming and physiotherapy and love-making; sickness and peak performance; ordinary life and the breath-taking cheating of death. However, Alexander MacLeod is also described as a writer of "ferocious intelligence", and this collection displays that as well: within every physical form simmers hope and regret and love and fear, all presented in a spare and masculine style.
The writing in Light Lifting, while at times masterful, can be a little uneven. In Adult Beginner I, for instance, Stace flashes back to a family trip to Nova Scotia where her mother insisted on teaching her to swim in the Atlantic. This passage seemed overwritten to me and took me out of the story:
The wall of water came into her vision, looming over her mother's shoulder like an old-style gangster thug sifting out of the crowd in a grey trench coat with a brim of his fedora pulled low down. He was so thick and so wide, he blocked out the sky. He shoved her mother forward headfirst into the sand before grabbing the girl and carrying her off in the opposite direction.
But then this bit redeemed the scene for me:
Timing blurred. It was impossible to keep track of the minutes and seconds. The first flash of panic gave way to a cloudy, sleepy feeling. Nothing came in or went out -- no air and no water. She felt completely full, as if all the gaps and extra spaces in her body had been made solid. She went limp and for a moment she felt like a floating thing, like a person who might really be able to move easily, and for a long time, in tune with the up and down beat of the ocean. This, she thought, this was it. Swimming. Almost right.
But then a series of sharp stinging pains came through her skull and she felt first the individual hairs, then whole clumps of her scalp being yanked out of her head. In a dizzy haze she thought she saw her father, but his glasses were gone and his sweatshirt seemed bloated and pulled strangely across his shoulders. His nose was scrunched up like something smelled very bad and he seemed angry, furious with somebody. She thought she heard her name.
"Stay with me Stacey," he said.
"Stay here. I've got you. It's going to be okay. We have you now. Stay with me."
That had my heart in my throat, and even though it's a flashback, so you know Stace had survived the near-drowning, it was the most danger-filled scene in the story for me, likely because it seemed urgent and immediate. I didn't feel the same urgency when Stace tripped on the edge of the hotel roof or when she was looking for Brad's body or even when the ship was bearing down on her. And by the way, that ending felt manipulative to me: like a line from Alanis Morissette's "Isn't It Ironic".
Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well, isn't this nice."
And isn't it ironic, don't you think
I think by now the consensus is that Ms. Morissette wrote about a list of coincidental, and not very coincidental, events that most wouldn't call ironic really, so the cheats of fate that come back to haunt the characters in this book don't feel entirely truthful; can be nearly as mockable as the song. You learn to swim? Well, then here comes a ship that "advances over the water and swallows everything in its path". You run the race of your life? Well, then you can be a hero for about a half an hour. You think it's a good thing that union organizers have preserved your job at the auto plant in the face of ever increasing automation? Well, then here's a car accident that kills your wife and child, one that would have been survivable had there not been a manufacturing flaw -- human error in the installation? -- in the air bags.
Aside from the unavoidable fate bombs, there were many declarations that I can't decide if I like. Are they profound or a little trite? Suitable for book clubs or pillow embroidery?
We have to scrounge for meaning wherever we can find it and there's no way to separate our faith from our desperation.
We are made most specifically by the things we cannot bear to do.
There are things we must allow each other that have nothing to do with kindness.
And if I can be so bold as to make one more complaint about what is actually a book I enjoyed quite a bit, I was lost during the long passage in Wonder About Parents where the dad and his brothers discuss the Pistons and their nicknames. I can usually follow along when a book is talking about a subject I'm not knowledgeable about, but this basketball talk was beyond me and I found it annoying. Okay, one more complaint: I didn't really like the telegrammic style of this story; I needed more verbs! Having said all that, though, this was my favourite story in the book. It perfectly captures the mystery at the center of traditional nuclear families: the parents were once strangers and then a couple with a full life together, and then the kids got added in later. MacLeod says it best:
We get to choose each other, but kids have no say about the nature of their lives…What are we to these people? Genetics. A story they make up about themselves.
This story was exactly what I was trying to say with this post: Dear Daughters
One thing that I really appreciated about Light Lifting was the apparent research that went into its writing. So many topics, from lice to bricklaying to the auto industry, seem written by an insider, and in a way that was relatable and interesting. The way MacLeod told the story of racing the trains through a two and a half mile tunnel under the Detroit River between the USA and Canada made me wonder if this is something he actually did as a high school kid. And that was another thing that really worked for me in this book -- I am familiar with its settings and think I'm about the same age as the author. He was born in Nova Scotia, like my own father, and I will be going there next week to visit my parents. Although I've only driven through Windsor on the way to Detroit -- and only went to Detroit for cheap flights out of its airport -- I do live in Southern Ontario, the approximate setting of most of these stories. Many details that MacLeod mentions in this book conjure specific memories for me and I started making a list: Ben Johnson, the Fisher Price circus train with the giraffe sticking its head out the roof, Wildberry Coolers, Playdough's Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop, Riviere-du-Loup, Alexander Keith's, Marineland, film strips, the Muskokas, and Lik-M-Aid Fun Dip. I am always impressed by a Canadian author who isn't afraid to mix in details that are only relatable to other Canadians (which about half the things in that list are).
Overall, I thought the writing in Light Lifting was very good. Short stories are a tough format and MacLeod succeeded in making me care about new characters every thirty pages or so; as physical as each story read, the author never forgot to infuse the people with hearts and minds and souls.
