SHORT STORIES
EITHNE FARRY
CATAPULT by Emily Fridlund
(W&N £8.99) THERE’S a dangerous glint to the 11 short stories by Bookershortlisted (for her novel History Of Wolves) Fridlund. An uneasy, but exhilarating, expectation of trouble ahead is manifest in her sharp and exquisite prose, which is carefully crafted to do the most damage in the most economical way.
In Here, Still, a wife snips ice from her husband’s moustache so he can talk, a telling detail of the froideur that will overtake their relationship and their optimistic hotel venture in Lake Arcturus Lodge.
In Marco Polo, a couple’s unsoothing sleep patterns make bedtime a resentful battleground, while in Lock Jaw, a besieged man refuses to give up his dangerous dog, even when it’s his son she’s ‘rolling joyously’ on, mangling the skin over his eyes.
MOTHERS by Chris Power
(Faber £10) THE settings of Power’s assured, gravely beautiful stories — a raucous wedding in Mexico, an ancient burial ground in Sweden, the hot beaches of Cephalonia — are places to escape to.
Yet, in every story, escape is impossible and the characters are restrained by the emotional damage they carry.
The three standout stories feature Eva. She has a complicated relationship with her mother and totes her out-of-date travel guide as a protective talisman as she restlessly moves from country to country, attempting to outrun her overwhelming melancholy and mood swings.
In the opening story, Summer 1976, Eva is a child caught in the sweltering heat of Stockholm and the lies she told about a childhood friend.
In Innsbruck, haunted and heart-sore, she thinks about slitting her wrists and, in the final story, enigmatic Eva, now a mother, is still lost to herself and her family.
TRAJECTORY by Richard Russo
(Allen & Unwin £17.99) THE four terrific stories in Trajectory tackle themes that are instantly familiar: midlife malaise, unfulfilled hopes, the melancholy realisation that marriages are unpredictable and children often troublesome — but Russo’s seemingly effortless prose transforms them into something freshly seen.
The book opens with Horseman, where a buttoned-up professor is pitched into unexpected emotional turmoil when she discovers one of her students has cheated, and ends with Milton And Marcus, a deliciously sharp account of a faltering novelist attempting to restart his screenwriting career.
The characters in the middle two tales are just as wounded, punctured by self-doubt and remorse as they attempt to deal with a serious health scare (Intervention), while poignantly admitting that ‘it’s probably a mistake to seek clarity when what’s vague are your own moral failings’ (Voice).