The Best American Short Stories 1981

My copy of BASS 1981 was purchased last year and arrived with several other volumes from Better World Books sometime after my birthday in August. It was in the mass purchase that completed my collection.

The 1981 volume came from BWB but originated from a familiar friend –

Good ‘ol Somers Library (Congratulations on being #30 on Twitter).

Once again, I have to thank them for tightening up their collection and making the decision to discard these books. This book arrived to me in near new condition.

Pristine condition.

Which leads me to ask a series of questions.

It’s hard to imagine that the book was purchased in 1981 or even in 1982. Perhaps it was purchased in the 1990s to replace a missing or stolen copy.

The books’ spine isn’t even broken. Now I’m uncertain when this book was purchased, but the circulation history is pretty low, and that is backed up by the condition of the book.

The first date that this book was checked out was Jul 21, ’94 and the last date was Sep. 7 ’94 (I of course have no idea of the circulation history once a computerized system was implemented).

There was also an Aug. 11, ’94 stamp which leads me to believe that this book was only checked out by one person but renewed twice. Perhaps there was a story or two in the book that was studied.

Did the book only see the outside world for something close to 3 months?

If this book had more than one reader, I would expect to see more physical wear to the book.

There isn’t even any damage to the books base from being pulled out and slid back into a shelf.

The only real damage done to the book was by the sun. The paper dust jacket (covered in a plastic protector) which is yellow has been sun bleached white about 1 inch in from the spine on the front and back of the book due to its position next to a neighboring book. I can only assume that it sat in between the BASS 1980 and 1982. I would also suspect that it had to have some exposure to sunlight because I doubt that the fluorescent lights of the library could have taken the color out of the paper.

Could this book really have just sat on the shelf for 28 years (assuming BWB received it in 2009 and the book was purchased in 1981) with only one reader? Even if it had only two readers...man that seems rather low.

Before I post the contents, just take a look at some of the big names contained within.

Walter Abish, Max Apple, Andre Dubus, Alice Munro, Joyce Carol Oates and John Updike.

All those are named on the back of the book!

Could it have been because of the volume’s editor?

I’ve never heard of Hortense Calisher before reading the BASS...but she really has quite a history and had made a name for herself by the time the 1980s hit.

What a mystery.

Best American Short Stories 1980 Completed

So, here are a few basic stats concerning the volume and my reading. I’ll delve deeper into some of them below.

There are 22 stories.

17 of the authors are men

4 of the authors are women*

*Mavis Gallant is published twice

In the stories, 17 of them center on men, 2 about women, 1 about a couple, 1 split pretty evenly about between the two genders (but leaning towards a male) and 1 unknown.

My first post about the BASS 1980 was made on Friday, October 23, 2009 and the final post on Wednesday, January 20, 2010.

2 months and 28 days were devoted to this volume. Broken down, that is:

12 weeks 5 days or

89 days or

63 weekdays or

0.2438 years.

This works out to a story read and posted about every 4.04 days.

Now that we have all that out of the way, lets get down to some words about this book.

My favorite story – Into the Wind

My least favorite- The Faithful

Overall impression of this collection.

You know, I think I have beat this dead horse enough, but I can’t help but feel that Elkin killed this edition.

Honestly, I would expect far more quality stories showing a greater diversity than he gave. I am sick of reading about a man’s struggle...

89 days - that is about all of the time I am willing to devote to this book. I wish I had given less.

The photo at the top of this entry is a good illustration of how I feel.

In the photo,

I am doing pull-ups at work.

We should all do pull-ups (reading and learning)

Pull-ups are difficult (as are some stories)

Pull-ups are good for us (as is reading)

(I’m at the top of a steep set of stairs, hanging from a pipe containing...probably something dangerous or important. – but aren’t we all hanging from a dangerous important pipe?).

The struggle is worth it.

Hog’s Heart – Gordon Weaver

Gordon Weaver - 2 February 1937- still alive??!!

The final story in this collection. I know that these stories are arranged in this volume alphabetically, but I also can’t help but notice that this story is about the final days of a man.

Could Elkin have picked a better story to round out his selections?

I think it’s rather fitting.

I’ll address the nature of his selections in my next post which will reflect on the BASS 1980, but for now, the death of Hog comes as a welcome death for me signaling the end of me reading of BASS 1980.

This story prompted me to think of my own death and how it might come about. Not so much as how it might come about but the last moments of my life and how I would like those to be ordered.

So, when I die, how would I want it to happen? I think that if it were to happen tomorrow, I would wish it to be non-violent and sudden.

I would hate to be hit by a car as I crossed the street, dying on the way to the hospital, thinking over my life, and of those I’m about to leave behind. That’s so sad.

If I were to die tomorrow, I’d want to be walking to work, feeling the sun on my face, a cool breeze carrying an unknown pleasant scent as I watched a bird fly from the ground up into a tree. I’d want to be thinking of M and our life together. As I tilted my head back to watch the ascent of the bird, I’d want a blood vessel to pop in my brain, immediately causing me to lose consciousness and causing my knees to buckle as I fell slowly into a patch of grass where I would die peacefully a minute or so later.

Quick, clean, natural and painless.

If my death is one that comes at the end of a long life rather than the one I described above, I’d like to be in a place of peace, my home, surrounded by my family. I’d like to go in my sleep...dreaming of them.

Again, quick, clean, natural painless and not coming as a surprise to my family but as a relief because they would know that I lived a full happy life and it was just my time to go. Everyone would be at peace with my passing.

I think it’s fine to think about death. You need to be at peace with it. To not be afraid of it.

The hardest part for me is knowing the pain of those that will remain living.

Markowitz and the Gypsies – Norman Waksler

Norman Waksler - July 19, 1941 – Still alive!!!

Waksler following Updike. What company. And a nice follow.

It was good to see that Waksler is still alive. And, very reachable. He has a page on Goodreads as well as a Facebook page.

He is a librarian (yea!) and is still writing.

The story.

I was happy to encounter this story. I do hope that its placement at the end of the volume did not result in readers not reading it. I’ll state it once again, and will state it yet again in another post, I think Elkin has done a really poor job with some of his selections and organization of the stories in this volume.

This was a very readable story. It would have done the BASS a service to be included more towards the front of the collection where it could have received more eyes and kept readers more engaged in the whole book.

What did Markowitz teach me?

Well, it brought back to my attention, that in life, we are all “Marks”. And, we have no problem playing the role of a gypsy from time to time.

The “humanness” of Markowitz was clearly developed and I feel that this was a strong part of what kept me engaged in the story.

It’s part of what makes us human I suppose. The push and pull of everyday life.

There is a fine balance that runs along with that push/pull.

Personally, I feel that I have not been the victim of, or played gypsy, too often in my life.

In that case, I think I’m lucky.

Gesturing – John Updike

John Updike - March 18, 1932 – January 27, 2009

True confessions time:

This is probably the third story I have read by Updike. That’s it. Three total.

And the funny thing is, after each story, I vowed to read more of him. He’s just so damn good. I mean, really good. Really, really, really good.

And – I never follow through on this vow. My loss.

You see, I know that he has so much to teach me.

About myself, my parents, my friends, my country and the society I live in.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Look at the guy. He looks so happy, it’s like he was born with a smile on his face. And, behind that face, in his brain, he knows us all.

I was exposed to him a great deal through Joyce Carol Oates’ Journal. She and Updike had a great friendship. I think the paring is perfect.

So, as I do with all of these stories, I take a look at the author – read about them, contact them if they are still alive and reachable, then I usually stand in awe of their achievements and finally write a couple of lines about them before I write about what the story provided me with.

Concerning Updike – I am struggling right now to find the words to convey what an author like him can/has done or will do for me.

And the realization that I have recognized for so long now and that I am finally committing to type, is that there are simply so many good authors, so many good stories and I just do not have time to read them all.

Updike, Oates, David Foster Wallace, Zadie Smith and ...

I have obligations in life – we have obligations in life – that prevent us from reading (or insert vice/pastime here).

Mornings are spent exercising (I gotta keep healthy if I’m gonna live long and read) – days are spent at work (must make money to buy books) – evenings are spent catching moments to read between being a good husband and companion to my wife.

Here’s how I look at it.

How would I feel if after a full day of work, my wife came home and buried her face in a book?

If my wife wants to lie in bed and watch The Food Network for an hour with me next to her, I feel that it’s my obligation to the marriage to lay there next to her.

Honestly, if that small gesture “keeps the peace” then I’m a pretty lucky guy. The books can wait.

These thoughts play into what I think I enjoy about Updike, and with this particular story. We all know what Updike writes about, and in “Gesturing” his story of marital infidelity, separation, love, and everything surrounding all of the above, is explored once again.

One of the reasons why I enjoy Updike is because he so vividly takes me places I have never been and will probably never go.

But...he takes me places that I know have been visited by people very close to me. My parents – co-workers and former classmates.

I’m no saint, but I can say that a lot of what he writes about I haven’t done and I hope will never do.

Just as I like Oates – I don’t have the desire to kill anyone ( then eat part of them) in some perverted fashion...but she takes me places that I find fascinating. She peels off the “normal” world that we live in and shows us what really lies just beneath the surface. Updike does the same.

I often wonder, as M and I take our evening walk – which lasts about an hour or so – of what goes on behind the doors of the houses we pass by. Updike knows.

Is there a husband physically abusing his wife or children? A mother drowning her pain by taking another shot of Vodka with a couple of pills. Teenagers looking for attention by “cutting”...or vomiting dinner into the toilet? And on and on and on...

What really happens behind these perfect lawns and front porches?

I think it’s worse than we let ourselves believe.

Gesturing –

Sometimes it’s the small things in life that mean the most. A simple word, a look, a smile, comment or email.

It is said that we live in a connected world. Are we really connected? Are we able to recognize subtle gestures in our “new” world?

I will continue to look for the small gestures – and make small gestures. They work and they help us be better friends, husbands, sons, and parents.

The Old Forest – Peter Taylor

Peter Taylor - January 8, 1917 – November 2, 1994

I was a little worried about this story as I grew closer to reading it. In the introduction, Elkin mentions that this is a long story, and in past posts, I have complained (why...I don't know - just shut up and read!) about the length of some of these stories.

I was glad though that it was by Taylor because I really enjoyed his previous story in the BASS. You can find it here.

I am very fond of his style and I have found that reading him is quite easy.

As I started this story, I fell into an easy rhythm. I enjoyed the point of view that was chosen, and I like the digressions he took. There was a wonderful psychological edge to the story and that also kept me interested.

Taylor is another author that I would model myself after if I was an author.

Perhaps the Southern setting and the Southern atmosphere that Taylor does so well at bringing to life through his words is what attracts me to his stories.

The Old Forest

Looking back in my life, I think that some of the Forests I ran into caused huge shifts in the direction of my life, and that shift was a positive one.

There are several that I can point to.

-My decision to go to Norwich.

-My decision to live in New Jersey after Norwich...and not go to Russia with the Peace Corps.

-My decision to spend time in the restaurant world.

-My decision to leave NJ and move to Norfolk and work in Gourmet Foods manufacturing for two years.

-My decision to join the Peace Corps and live in RO for 2.5 years.

-And finally, to work in print media and remain today in print media when it seems as if the foundation of the institution is crumbling- or is it just morphing?

Now, were all of these Forests?

Well, some of the decisions that were made could almost seem to be viewed as being made in desperation.

I don’t think I “planned” on making any of them. I don’t recall a moment in my life where I saw one of those decisions up there on the list on my “someday I wish I can” list.

I think that I have just kind of rolled with the waves of life. I haven’t really strived to be anything – yet. I just exist where I am and I manage to make the best out of it.

But you know, as the Forest in this story provided comfort and a sort of camouflage to one of the characters, the Forest of life can be a very frightening place.

We can stumble into them...or run into them and find that we have become lost. The trees block out the sunlight – points of reference all begin to look the same. Strange noises find their way into our brain confusing our thoughts. We can run into a Forest with the intention of coming out the other side as someone new-or, we can run into the Forest and never come out.

Perhaps we find that we enjoy living in the Forest.

After writing the above sentences, I think that it is best that we venture into Forests from time to time – to push the limits of our lives, to recognize that we are still alive, human and we can either find excitement or that which frightens us. Either way, it can be good.

So, seeing that we are about ½ way through January, I think that will strive this year to work harder at getting into more Forests and discovering what they have to offer.

I can’t wait.

The Rags of Time – Barry Targan

Barry Targan – Nov. 30, 1932

How to approach discussing this story?

Well, we have all fallen under the spell of something or someone – sometime in our lives. The temptation and our choice to act on it is where things get interesting.

Drugs, alcohol, lies and sex...they are all out there waiting to make our lives more interesting. There are other forces out there but those are just a couple that happened to pop into my head See, I didn’t say “destroy”, rather I said “interesting” our lives because I feel that each one of those can be used in a way that can not cause damage to those who utilize them responsibly.

Even lies.

Now discussing this story, out of the list mentioned above, guess which one I will focus on?

Yup –SEX.

Time for more “real life” stories by yours truly.

I’ll only tell this particular story because it has some of the same ingredients as “The Rags of Time”. There is one major difference between what I did and what the main character of the story does.

Here we go -

So, as my little profile indicates up there on the right of your screen, I was a Peace Corps volunteer.

I entered the PC when I was 26 years old. I was sent to a small town of about 9,500 to teach high school English.

I lived in a dorm with the students of that school.

There were both male and female students in that dorm.

My English classes were made up of about 97% girls. GIRLS – 18 and under. Not women –GIRLS.

I was 26 years old. In a foreign country teaching mostly girls.

I will be honest and say that there was more than one opportunity for me to violate the trust between a teacher and a student.

It was also known, that there were teachers at that school who did violate that trust.

Here is a conversation I had with a female student one day after class in the hallway of our dorm.

-A mere 25 feet from the door to my room.

Like a good student, all of this was done in English which I think caused even more of a shock to me because I was flabbergasted that she was able to construct a conversation like we had, in for what was her, a foreign language.

She: Mr. _ , do you have a girlfriend?

Me: No _, I do not.

She: I don’t have a boyfriend...but I want one.

Me: uh-huh.

She: Would you want to be my boyfriend?

Me: -

She: I need a boyfriend.

Me:-

She: You could be my boyfriend now, just for a little while.

Me: -

She: Can we go to your room and talk about it?

She: I need a boyfriend.

Me: Look _, I can’t be your boyfriend, I’m your professor.

She: You could also be my boyfriend.

Me: - I need to go now, I’ll see you tomorrow.

And with that, I ducked around her and walked quickly to my room...

She was 18. I could have been “her boyfriend”.

I thought about that conversation many times after that encounter. I wondered what would have happened if we went back to my room to “talk” about it.

This particular student had attendance problems. She was older and I feel that she didn’t really feel the need to be at the school. She finished the year, and graduated. I passed her – barely.

I knew exactly what she was doing. The main character of the short that I just read faced the same situation but he “went back to the room” with his student.

There were times in the class when she happened to be there that I caught her and some other girls whispering and laughing as they looked in my general direction. I naturally assumed – as most guys would – that they were discussing my lack of a girlfriend and possibly my actions in that hallway – which in their eyes may have made me less of a “man”.

So, as I said, I thought about that conversation and encounter many times. I thought about where it would have taken me. If I crossed that line, would there be others?

It’s hard to say.

Stories like “The Rags of Time” provide the reader with an illustration of what could happen when we compromise ourselves.

The story isn’t that uncommon. It’s a story that becomes reality quite often in our world.

I chose what I thought to be the right path. All I am haunted by today is that conversation. I’m not haunted by what could have happened if we went further into that “conversation”.

My mind is clear and my integrity was tested – and I passed.

Overall, I really enjoyed this short. Here is a bit about the author.

“...one of these anthologies, included Targan's work along with fiction by such writers as John Updike, Saul Bellow, Tillie Olsen, and John Barth. In a 24 January 1992 letter, Targan wrote of finding himself in this distinguished company: "Naturally, I was elated.... But as I read through the collection, I came to a deeper awe not of them and not in self-appreciation, but of the act of such writing -- of writing with such honorableness, such authenticity.... I thought right then that to write -- to write with such integrity -- was one of the finest things a human being could do with a life. And so I decided just then that it would be one of the things I would do with mine. But only one of the things."”

“He is or has been a serious boat builder, sailor, gardener, potter, weaver, violinist, bookbinder, printer, papermaker, photographer, artist, skier, naturalist, bird-watcher, fisherman, editor, and teacher. Because he knows and has done so much, his writing covers these and other activities in informed, specific, realistic, and convincing ways, and his style is textured, detailed, and poetic.”