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STORIES by Scott McClanahan
Often, when realistic fiction interests me – and it very often does- it must do what all art can do, and to quote the painter Lisa Yuskavage ( an idol of mine), prove that there is “not an uninteresting person alive.” Scott McClanahan’s collection, simply entitled STORIES (click here to buy) illuminates that concept. I realize this is in exact opposition to Christopher Higg’s comment in his review of the Jello Horse by Matthew Simmons, where he wrote, “…but then again, so few real people are remarkably interesting.” Now, we could quibble about remarkable versus not, but I’ll reiterate: I find it remarkable that I am alive, period, and the minutia of anyone’s life thrills me. (This is not to say I don’t like some books better than others, or some people better than others, nor that there isn’t tons of crappy stuff passing off as literature. I’m just explaining a general worldview I adhere to.) And so the way I walk around this world is different than others, I understand that, because I walk around shocked, amused, moved to pity and rage and mostly baffled, in the most wonderful of ways, at how strange we all are (click here to read a thread that exemplifies our weirdness in regard to food.)
McClanahan’s stories are primarily set in West Virginia and all told in the first person by the same narrator, a narrator who views the seemingly narrow lives of his community and family with reverence. These are not condescending stories. They can be funny, but never treat the eccentric, or impoverished characters as cartoonish or garish; indeed, they celebrate, with honor, the strangeness and beauty of them all.
In “The Prettiest Girl In Texas” the narrator is visiting his grandparents in Texas and his uncle, who isn’t really that much older than our young, male narrator, wakes him and says,
“We’re going to go see THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN TEXAS.” “What?” I whispered all excited and laughed. And then he told me how he’s seen this stripper out at a bar a couple nights before and this is what she was calling herself. And he told me how the Cowboys were in town for their training camp and they heard about her too. So they brought about half the team out to see her and he’d never seen anything like it.
Our young narrator gets very excited, but things turn out stranger, even disappointing at first, in that they drive up to an –
old double wide trailer, covered in Christmas lights and with a shack built onto the side of it.” And inside, “There was an old woman serving drinks, and a couple of rednecks in cowboy hats. And there was a chubby salesman talking up a storm to somebody’s little daughter sitting on top of a broken pinball machine, eating one of those orange push up thingies.
Our narrator’s discomfort and disappointment subsides, but in a way that is so shocking and transcendent I find it hard to imagine how McClanahan got there. When the prettiest girl in Texas does come out–
“she didn’t look like the other girls there. She was older than the rest of them and real skinny, so skinny that her long neck looked even longer…So when the spotlight pulled back she was standing with her right shoulder to us, snapping her fingers and swaying back and forth in her cheerleading costume. And that’s when I saw it.”
Now, what “it” is that he sees, is pivotal, but I refuse to give away the ending, because McClanahan nails the ending so perfectly–and so often nails the endings throughout this entire collection–that he exhibits mastery in that regard.
This is a collection imbued with tenderness and pain, and mostly, with awe. It does that thing which literature can do- break down the class system, the barriers that exist regardless of how less so than before. McClanahan does this by celebrating the most simple of human lives and showing how remarkable they all are. One could compare his characters to those of Ray Carver’s or Larry Brown’s, but also to the characters of Chekhov or Tolstoy. There is an anti-smugness that gave me great pleasure in this book. The stories often feel told rather than written, because the narrator’s voice rings true and strong, evoking the ancient oral tradition.
I’ll conclude with saying that the beauty of the most simple things in life can be overwhelming emotionally – a poor family helping out an even poorer family in the story “Captain D’s”, the narrator as a little boy trying to make diamonds out of coal — and that beauty is highlighted by the fragility of it all, the death-hauntedness that life is, and if we lived with that knowledge every moment of our lives it would crush us. But to crystallize that notion in art, somehow, someway, helps make it bearable.
Contact McClanahan at http://hollerpresents.com/.
Tags: Scott McClanahan
I agree with your take on finding beauty, pr. I don’t really see the need to limit what sort of fiction I read, or write, based on any conceptual strategem about what constitutes beauty and where best to find it. It simply exists everywhere, all the time, in many different guises.
I agree with your take on finding beauty, pr. I don’t really see the need to limit what sort of fiction I read, or write, based on any conceptual strategem about what constitutes beauty and where best to find it. It simply exists everywhere, all the time, in many different guises.
i’m looking forward to this! i’ve been hearing a lot of good things.
i’m looking forward to this! i’ve been hearing a lot of good things.
this book is the fucking shit.
this book is the fucking shit.
I don’t limit what I read, Shya. No where in the review do I say I don’t read something. I read and have read plenty of non realistic fiction, modernist classics, scifi, crime, humor–I’ve reviewed Handke (post modernism) and Calvino here, for instance…. I’m just arguing here that realism can do good things for me. And that I don’t find ordinary life anything short of remarkable.
this book kicks a lot of ass.
this book kicks a lot of ass.
i want to walk around with you
i want to walk around with you
janey. did people really ignore you after you read? or you just being paraboid?
janey. did people really ignore you after you read? or you just being paraboid?
Sorry, pr! I wasn’t actually totally agreeing with your approach, and with your reaction to Higg’s review of Simmon’s Jello Horse.
Sorry, pr! I wasn’t actually totally agreeing with your approach, and with your reaction to Higg’s review of Simmon’s Jello Horse.
Oops. I mean, “WAS actually totally agreeing…”
Oops. I mean, “WAS actually totally agreeing…”
I look forward to reading Jello Horse and like Higg’s review. My only beef is that no one is not interesting or remarkable, if you peel back the layers. And that doesn’t mean I don’t dislike people- of course I do- but that I am in a place where I find all indidual’s minutia fascinating.
no, they got all loud with laughter and insults when the baby bunny gave the little girl aids, then they got all quiet. then they clapped kind of. then this one girl gave me her phone number.
no, they got all loud with laughter and insults when the baby bunny gave the little girl aids, then they got all quiet. then they clapped kind of. then this one girl gave me her phone number.
i just got this book in the mail. can’t wait to crack it open this weekend!
i just got this book in the mail. can’t wait to crack it open this weekend!
Hi, pr,
It’s true, I don’t share your optimistic view that all people are remarkable. What you propose reminds me of that scene in the movie American Beauty where the kid films a plastic bag floating in the wind and talks about how beauty resides everywhere if only we stop and pay attention.
My argument with this point of view is that if you must stop and pay attention or if you must, in your words, “peel back the layers,” to find the interesting or beautiful, then what is interesting/beautiful is not in that plastic bag or in your everyman, it’s actually in you. You are what’s interesting. You are what’s remarkable, because you were capable of finding something remarkable in something unremarkable. You were capable of finding the extra-ordinary in the ordinary.
I would claim that what is truly remarkable/extra-ordinary presents itself as such, and does not require an observer to find this trait in it (i.e. peel back layers, or stop and pay attention).
What I think is pretty interesting here is how our difference of position on this issue can so dramatically alter our experience of reading, and ultimately, perhaps, account for our differing aesthetic.
At any rate, I’m glad you enjoyed my review of Simmons’s book. I always enjoy reading your posts here at Giant, especially because you introduce me to material – like McClanahan’s – that I might otherwise overlook.
Hi, pr,
It’s true, I don’t share your optimistic view that all people are remarkable. What you propose reminds me of that scene in the movie American Beauty where the kid films a plastic bag floating in the wind and talks about how beauty resides everywhere if only we stop and pay attention.
My argument with this point of view is that if you must stop and pay attention or if you must, in your words, “peel back the layers,” to find the interesting or beautiful, then what is interesting/beautiful is not in that plastic bag or in your everyman, it’s actually in you. You are what’s interesting. You are what’s remarkable, because you were capable of finding something remarkable in something unremarkable. You were capable of finding the extra-ordinary in the ordinary.
I would claim that what is truly remarkable/extra-ordinary presents itself as such, and does not require an observer to find this trait in it (i.e. peel back layers, or stop and pay attention).
What I think is pretty interesting here is how our difference of position on this issue can so dramatically alter our experience of reading, and ultimately, perhaps, account for our differing aesthetic.
At any rate, I’m glad you enjoyed my review of Simmons’s book. I always enjoy reading your posts here at Giant, especially because you introduce me to material – like McClanahan’s – that I might otherwise overlook.
I read all sorts of stuff. But yes, I read much and lately primarily, narrative, realistic fiction. That said ,Lathe of Heaven is on my summer reading list and books like The Blind Assassin and The Fifth Child are hugely important to me. I also worshipped Borges in my twenties to the extent of travelling to Buenos Aires and staying for 6 weeks. I read Garcia Marquez in spanish and tried to read Kafka in german and my next story to be published is very Kafkaesqe. So, you can’t really pin me down I think-I’m a bit all over the place.
I think we will have to agree to disagree on the remarkable thing. The beauty and mystery I see in the world is not coming from me, in my opinion, even if it is some “ability” of mine, but rather the exact opposite- it’s the actual seeing outside of oneself, a moment of not being self centered, and actually focussing outside of oneself, a rare and wonderful thing,
My acupuncturist once put as “we are all driving around in our little cars” – and this is true. When fighting off a panic attack during a social interaction, I reassure myself with “no one actually cares at all about me or anything but themselves” and while this is not 100 percent true, the main point is- to focus outside of ourselves is a wonderful gift, and one that opens us up to empathy, beauty, and that Godlike thing (or God) that exists in all of us and all the world as well. (This is not to say there isn’t much evil and ugliness in the world…or that I like everyone…I’m not going to get into bothness, my favorite word, or get super philosphical, I can’t – it’s the semis at the French Open!–so I’ll just leave it at that…I do like that American Beauty thing though, that was nice….)
I read all sorts of stuff. But yes, I read much and lately primarily, narrative, realistic fiction. That said ,Lathe of Heaven is on my summer reading list and books like The Blind Assassin and The Fifth Child are hugely important to me. I also worshipped Borges in my twenties to the extent of travelling to Buenos Aires and staying for 6 weeks. I read Garcia Marquez in spanish and tried to read Kafka in german and my next story to be published is very Kafkaesqe. So, you can’t really pin me down I think-I’m a bit all over the place.
I think we will have to agree to disagree on the remarkable thing. The beauty and mystery I see in the world is not coming from me, in my opinion, even if it is some “ability” of mine, but rather the exact opposite- it’s the actual seeing outside of oneself, a moment of not being self centered, and actually focussing outside of oneself, a rare and wonderful thing,
My acupuncturist once put as “we are all driving around in our little cars” – and this is true. When fighting off a panic attack during a social interaction, I reassure myself with “no one actually cares at all about me or anything but themselves” and while this is not 100 percent true, the main point is- to focus outside of ourselves is a wonderful gift, and one that opens us up to empathy, beauty, and that Godlike thing (or God) that exists in all of us and all the world as well. (This is not to say there isn’t much evil and ugliness in the world…or that I like everyone…I’m not going to get into bothness, my favorite word, or get super philosphical, I can’t – it’s the semis at the French Open!–so I’ll just leave it at that…I do like that American Beauty thing though, that was nice….)
Great collection.
Great collection.
<3 lisa yuskavage
<3 lisa yuskavage
She fucking rocks like no one. I should post more of that interview with her…
i’m not going to judge this particular collection as all i’ve read is a tiny, tiny excerpt but the main thing that bugs me about this sort of “salt of the earth” realism is that to mimic the laid bare lives of the characters, the authors usually take a bare-bones approach to the prose and, for me, the prose is what initially piques my interest about anything. realism or not, if the prose isn’t doing quadruple work, my eyes start to glass over. also, these sorts of works (again, i’m not necessarily grouping mclanahan in with this sort) don’t necessarily introduce anything new. rural or southern people drink a lot, live in shitty environs, maybe fuck their sisters and work in menial or manual labor. at least the work of mark richard or barry hannah not only upends your initial ideas about what the story may entail but also gives it to you in prose that takes a hacksaw to your head.
i’m not going to judge this particular collection as all i’ve read is a tiny, tiny excerpt but the main thing that bugs me about this sort of “salt of the earth” realism is that to mimic the laid bare lives of the characters, the authors usually take a bare-bones approach to the prose and, for me, the prose is what initially piques my interest about anything. realism or not, if the prose isn’t doing quadruple work, my eyes start to glass over. also, these sorts of works (again, i’m not necessarily grouping mclanahan in with this sort) don’t necessarily introduce anything new. rural or southern people drink a lot, live in shitty environs, maybe fuck their sisters and work in menial or manual labor. at least the work of mark richard or barry hannah not only upends your initial ideas about what the story may entail but also gives it to you in prose that takes a hacksaw to your head.
that’s a real interesting distinction. on the one hand you have the perspective that a person creates value, creates beauty in the act of seeing something as beautiful, which would typically be associated with an existentialist standpoint. on the other hand, you have the perspective that a person has the capacity to recognize value and beauty, but are often too preoccupied with a very limited set of concerns and goals, the concerns of the biological organism, that essentially act as blinders; and this perspective is most reminiscent of various mystical traditions east and west, e.g. william blakes’s ‘doors of perception’ (and huxley after him) and buddhism’s ‘one taste’.
i am inclined to both. as such i could say 1) both are true, and be content with the paradox, or 2) there is no paradox because neither necessarily and logically excludes the other and both are capable of coexisting in the same framework. and the open-endedness of 2) might lead to further interpretations and clarifications. but i am tempted to say 3) if one accepts the premise of the dual nature of all things manifest (which is a huge premise indeed), then as a finite being one has the capacity to witness value and beauty when one is able to perceive independently of, or at least not completely predetermined by, the preferences hardwired into our organism; and yet as the formless witness or radiance, which is only known through its manifestations, we are capable of participating in the existing value and beauty, and capable of initiating particular expressions of such instances that may nonetheless be washed over and crushed by the ever expansive flux in which we are but one particular manifestation of the whole. of course this formulation has its weaknesses along with other premises smuggled into it, such as the nature of value and the organism. but i can’t see how both perspectives, articulated by chris and pr, aren’t true.
that’s a real interesting distinction. on the one hand you have the perspective that a person creates value, creates beauty in the act of seeing something as beautiful, which would typically be associated with an existentialist standpoint. on the other hand, you have the perspective that a person has the capacity to recognize value and beauty, but are often too preoccupied with a very limited set of concerns and goals, the concerns of the biological organism, that essentially act as blinders; and this perspective is most reminiscent of various mystical traditions east and west, e.g. william blakes’s ‘doors of perception’ (and huxley after him) and buddhism’s ‘one taste’.
i am inclined to both. as such i could say 1) both are true, and be content with the paradox, or 2) there is no paradox because neither necessarily and logically excludes the other and both are capable of coexisting in the same framework. and the open-endedness of 2) might lead to further interpretations and clarifications. but i am tempted to say 3) if one accepts the premise of the dual nature of all things manifest (which is a huge premise indeed), then as a finite being one has the capacity to witness value and beauty when one is able to perceive independently of, or at least not completely predetermined by, the preferences hardwired into our organism; and yet as the formless witness or radiance, which is only known through its manifestations, we are capable of participating in the existing value and beauty, and capable of initiating particular expressions of such instances that may nonetheless be washed over and crushed by the ever expansive flux in which we are but one particular manifestation of the whole. of course this formulation has its weaknesses along with other premises smuggled into it, such as the nature of value and the organism. but i can’t see how both perspectives, articulated by chris and pr, aren’t true.
I think you said it all in that you admit that you haven’t read the book. I did. I wrote about it. It’s a good book.
I think you said it all in that you admit that you haven’t read the book. I did. I wrote about it. It’s a good book.
Nice, Keith.
here i want to put this here i just got the book, Scott.
i’ve been thinking about the bologna sandwich story all summer but the one thats really killing me is the arm losing in a factory one its incredible the way everybody around him is crying and screaming and he’s like, floating in slow motion, sitting, smoking.
i’m stoked to read the rest of it tomorrow and then tell everybody up here they have to get their own copy
n
here i want to put this here i just got the book, Scott.
i’ve been thinking about the bologna sandwich story all summer but the one thats really killing me is the arm losing in a factory one its incredible the way everybody around him is crying and screaming and he’s like, floating in slow motion, sitting, smoking.
i’m stoked to read the rest of it tomorrow and then tell everybody up here they have to get their own copy
n
[…] from the book, “The Couple,” which I think is exemplary and swell. And back last June, pr enthused about the original, Stories. And Scott’s own site is here. Tags: Kevin Wilson, Scott McClanahan, the CAMEL method, tony […]