The Last Lovely City - Alice Adams

The last time we had the chance to spend some time with Alice Adams was a couple years ago when we were introduced to her as the editor for BASS 1991.  

I mentioned that she first appeared in The BASS in 1976 so I missed her by a couple of years as this project started with the 1978 collection. She is featured again with two stories after the guest editor spot in the BASS ’92 and ’96.

Adams appears first in the 1992 collection simply because of her last name. It seems that the editor and guest editor of these volumes have consistently agreed that the easiest way to order the stories is alphabetical by the authors last name - with the exception of BASS 1992 guest edited by John Gardner.

The Last Lovely City takes place along Stinson Beach California. With the incredible technology afforded to us in these times, I was able to visit the same beach town Alice did and decided to make as the setting for her story.

This story first appeared in The New Yorker in the March 11, 1991 issue. The U.S. had just finished active hostilities during Operation Desert Storm.

Personally, I felt that this story gave the anthology a bit of a rough takeoff. It's a story that still has the feel of the mid-1980s. I had to push myself through that time barrier to find a message that resonated with me - understanding that as with all of these stories, there is a very good chance that I would not find one.

And then, a simple paragraph tucked in towards the end made the connection.

"...the doctor finds that those giants from his dark and tangled past have quite suddenly receded: Delores and Tolliver have shrunk down to human size, the size of people accidentally encountered at a party. Such meeting can happen to anyone, easily, especially at a certain age."

I have reached the age - and have been the age to have the above happen on more than one occasion. The encounters cause quick butterflies to rise in your heart, quickening its beat and upon reflection hours later, perhaps at home after the meting, laying in bed reflecting, you realize how silly your mind was, building these people up from your past into "giants".

Time, once again has taught you a valuable lesson - a lesson that you will forget probably forget and replay several times more throughout your life.

Intermission

I'm pretty sure the algorithms synced across a few platforms to bring In the Land of Men to my attention - and just like that, I downloaded it last night, and I'm primed to start reading tonight. 

I'm excited about this book mainly because I think it'll offer some additional insight to the lit scene of the 90's. We've just breached the 90s in this BASS exploration project and BASS 1992 is the first time we encounter David Foster Wallace - a major part of Miller's book. Additionally, according to my spreadsheet, during her time at Esquire, Miller edited four authors that landed in The Best American Short Stories. 

I'll be sure to circle back around in a few days with my thoughts. 

The Best American Short Stories 1992 - Introduction

Start the clock. 

I'm notorious for taking years to read these anthologies. We are 15 books in to this series starting with 1978 back in 2008. 

Back when I started this project, I worked at a newspaper in Virginia. Two weeks ago, I voluntarily left the newspaper (my second home for 19 years). It was a difficult decision, but a move that was necessary. I'm sure in the years and posts to come, I will dive deeper into everything surrounding my departure. These stories have a way of prying out details over time - this is the purpose of this project - it's a bit of therapy. 

I've written several times about the various stages of my life and here we are at another. It'll be very interesting to see what develops.

So, here we are, finally reading the BASS 1992. I loved the 90s and the editor of this volume, in his introduction, touches on one of the reasons why I found that decade so special.

Robert Stone made his first appearance in The Best American Series back in 1998 which I read in 2012. I found his introduction to this volume a little rough - of course perhaps I am out of practice (reading that is). The following passage did catch me though.

"In their variety, these stories reflect what is probably the most significant development in late-twentieth-century American fiction, the renewal and revitalization of the realist mode, which has been taken up by a new generation of writers. This represents less a "triumph" of realism than the obviation of old arguments about the relationship between life and language. As of 1992, American writers seem ready to accept traditional forms without self-consciousness in dealing with the complexity of the world around them."

This final paragraph from the introduction nails it perfectly for me. It's why I found love for the short story in the early 90s.

During my time at Norwich University, I worked as a work study student in the library. I was assigned to the periodicals department where I received incoming magazines and journals. I cataloged the new arrivals and at times, when needed, I assisted in the weeding of older journals from the shelves. Because Norwich was associated with Vermont College at this time, we received copies of important literary journals. When I found a few minutes of down-time between my duties, I would flip through these journals, journals with odd sounding names, Black Warrior Review, Ploughshares, The Southern Review, Missouri Review, Paris Review and the Virginia Quarterly Review just to name a few. I can't readily recall what story or what journal pulled me in, but I was hooked. It was in these journals that the stories I am now reading in the BASS are resurfacing. No doubt, I will run across one or several that seem all too familiar...the years softening my recollection of having actually reading it so many years ago.

Now, the publications and number of stories featured in BASS 1992.

Ploughshares - 1

Story - 3

New England Review - 1

The Atlantic Monthly - 1

Harper's Magazine - 1

The Southern Review - 1

Fiction International - 1

Black Warrior Review - 1

American Short Fiction - 1

The New Yorker - 9

So, as you can see, and it shouldn't come as a  surprise, stories from The New Yorker heavily outweigh the others.

Stone has this to say about the stories from that publication.

"The large number of New Yorker inclusions I think results from the fact that while The New Yorker is still able to attract first-rate submissions, the days are past when there was such a thing as a "New Yorker story." 

Well, lets see about that. I'm very excited to start this new journey - both in my life and with this volume. 

The 90s were my decade - I have faith that these stories will hold up.

Onward!

A Conclusion

I can’t count the number of times I’ve started this entry in my head. I finished the last story in this edition quite some time ago so why deviate from my normal behavior of waiting to post an entry?

I made the introductory post for this edition back on February 27, 2017. 

That was 2 years, 11 months and 3 days ago…or 1067 days.

This project suffered neglect due to my inability to remain focused on it and due to the many other wonderful titles, that surfaced and caught my attention. 

These occasional entries are good though to shame me into posting more. 

Maybe. 

So, what can I say about The Best American Short Stories 1991? 

An overview of this volume wouldn’t be fair. I have trouble recalling the good/bad/ugly of these stories. 

So – with that, let’s put this volume behind us. 

After all, I have started a new volume in life (more on that later) so it is only appropriate that I do with this project.

A Sandstone Farmhouse – John Updike

Well hello there Mr. Updike!

Our society has changed quite a bit since we first met back in January 2010.

You were in 1980, and your story was featured in Playboy and I was reading it across time 30 years later.

For many, then and now, your work appearing in that publication would be a natural fit. There were quite a few opinions of your writing back in 1980  and into the 90s (plenty of hate) the early 2000s as well as in 2010 – and now, when you are discussed/studied, their opinions are colored by our societal shifts…as they should be. 

I loved your writing back in 2010, and now almost 10 years later, I still love your writing.

It was this anthology that brought me closer to you. I saw you develop and it allowed me to explore the critical discussion of your work. I learned so much.

And now, you are back in my life.

I rushed to this story, not only because it is the last one in this edition, and I’m so over this particular year, but it had been some time since we last had some time together.

I finished your story well over a month ago and I fell down the rabbit hole of researching you again.

That was a mistake.

I should have left well alone.

I climbed out of the hole, lessons learned, and here we are.

So, this story…

About three years ago, my sister and I cleaned out my mother’s house. We moved her into an apartment. It was the house that I moved into when I was 5 and my sister was 2.

We disturbed dust and pulled pictures off the walls that hadn’t moved in close to 40 years.

Curtains were pulled down and light shined in corners that were dark for a lifetime.

We did the cleaning in the summer and it was hot and sweaty. 

We piled boxes on the curb that were picked through by strangers. What they didn’t scavenge, the city trash collectors picked up with a giant claw truck.

We held an estate sale allowing strangers to tromp through the house and pay cents for what we and she spent good money on years before.

The house was too big for her and physically, she was too small for the house.

I thought a lot about that move and my mother while reading this story.

On occasion, I’ll drive past that house, my mother’s the one I was raised in and the memories come flooding back. 

Playing in the front yard, riding up and down the block on my bike, my skateboard. The early mornings - pushing my bike past the parked cars in the driveway so I could deliver the daily newspaper. 

Sitting on the front porch with friends. 

I look up at the attic window, my room, my refuge from age 13 to 18. 

The days I spent lying on my bed looking down at the street where I now sit in an idling car looking up at the empty windows.

So, Updike’s Sandstone Farmhouse took me back to my house, to those memories of EVERYTHING that happened there. 

Updike does that to me  - and I appreciate and love his writing for this. 

Dog Stories – Francine Prose

“Dog Stories” comes partly out of my continuing interest in the way people tell their stories – in this case, stories about dogs. … People never talk about nothing, not even when they seem to. There are always secret and interesting reasons for the stories they decide to tell and for the moments at which they choose to tell them.” – Francine Prose

I don’t find myself in the position much to be on the receiving end of a good dog story. Most stories that come my way are through work, and I can’t really call those “stories”.

I suppose a reason that I’m not on the receiving end is that I’m rarely in social situations that allow others to tell me stories. I don’t have a large social circle and most stories that come my way are told to me by my children.

The advice that Prose gives above though can be used with those stories because my kids are great at choosing the times to tell me their stories.

Through this BASS reading exercise, I have found a great spark to tell some of my stories. The story randomly finds its way to me across time and provides the spark to ignite the process of thought. Sometimes this process can last days, weeks or months. Sometimes I can relate to a story immediately.

What is unfortunate though is that I find myself falling into the habit of not reading and in turn, not telling my stories.

American, Abroad – Joyce Carol Oates

Sitting on this book again. 

Work and life continue to get in the way. How many times can I use that excuse? I can’t keep using those as excuses. 

I can’t wait to write the wrap-up of this volume to see how long it took me to finish this volume. 

It’s going to be redic.

I finished reading this story over a month ago and I’m finally getting around to writing about it.

When I read that JCO is included in a BASS volume I’m pretty excited to plow through the stories to reach and read it. This story was featured towards the end of the volume and I was similarily excited to read it…but unfortunately, it did not deliver what I expected.

Thinking of my expectations, and all the changes that I have experienced in my life over the lifespan of this project I wonder if my expectations have morphed as well.

Perhaps the “feelings” of expectations the correct atmosphere to be enveloped in before during and after this story because there is quite a bit of “expectation” in this story.

The expectation of physical violence, the expectation of a meeting – or a friendship…

Expectations are a very dangerous thing. 

Set them too high and you’ll find disappointment. Set them too low and perhaps, resentment, anger jealousy.

So…lesson from JCO – check your expectations.