Last week in DC, I sat down in Kramerbooks and read a short story by Carol Anshaw in the the Best American Short Stories 2012. I liked it so much, I immediately bought her novel Carry the One. I wasn’t disappointed. This writing is rich with imagery, the characters are complex, contemporary, and believable, and the moral dilemmas thought-provoking and not easily solved. Here is the opening:
Here’s a scene from later that evening:
As it turns out, nothing gets better from here. But because the writing is so good, I gobbled the book like candy. It didn’t even last the whole pane ride home; I couldn’t ration myself. Now I’ve checked out her earlier novels from the library. What a lucky find.
I always wondered at your self confidence. Now I see it displayed, beginning at an almost larval stage, then right through to the later event of your metamorphosis!
“Hey, hey, what do you say, girl explorers are here to stay” Hey, hey, what should we do? Whatever it takes to see the experiment through!”
(PomPoms fully extended)
I meant to post this at the end of the FLOUR BEETLE piece. That experiment failed.
No problem, Simone–I get it!
This writing grates on my nerves rather than enthralls: butter moon, chicken cordon bleu – I feel like I’ve added a couple of pounds and haven’t even made it through the first paragraph.
Chaque’un à son gout, Jackie!
Seriously, Jackie sorry you don’t like Anshaw’s writing. For me, getting fat on words is so much better than on food itself.