The 2006 Best American Short Stories
Jordan Hartt
War—or to be more precise, the distant specter of war—haunts
the stories contained in the 2006 Best American Short Stories anthology,
selected by Ann Patchett. And to this reader, the collection is notable
not for its own rather pedestrian literary merits, but for what the
stories collectively say about the American century, and how we come
to terms
with it.
When you pick up the orange-covered 2006 BASS—when will these anthologies
splurge for more interesting covers: the collection since its inception
in 1915 has looked as though some of the best creative work being done
in North America simply gets photocopied and stapled by graduate students—do
what I didn’t do: skip the introduction.
Well, read Katrina Kenison’s introduction, only because there is a nice
moment where a friend shows up at the secluded Kenison cottage with the Hemingway
story “Big Two-Hearted River” and reads it to the family. It’s
a quiet essay on the joys of reading. Disrupted by the chaotic desperation
of Ann Patchett’s introduction.
Patchett is a fine, if tepid, novelist, but in eight excrutiating pages
of introduction she mentions the actual stories in the collection
only once,
and then in the very last paragraph: Paul Yoon’s opening story, and why she
chose it to lead off the collection. (Because the order of the stories in the
collection appear in reverse alphabetical order!) Before that she complains,
1 about the lack of readership for the short story in general, 2 ruminates
on how she first started to read short stories, and, 3 ruminates on how she
got started as a young writer. Reading her introduction is like getting stuck
listening to a maiden aunt at a family reunion—trapped under a parasol
and the sticky scent of too-strong perfume—when what you really want
to do is swim in the lake.
Usually I enjoy the introductions. They set up the stories that are
included, and discuss the selection process. But this year, I turned
to the first story,
Yoon’s “Once the Shore,” first published in One Story,
almost in relief.
There are very real gems in this collection, but they are few and far
between. Donna Tartt’s “The Ambush,” “So Much for Artemis,” by
Patrick Ryan, “Refresh, Refresh,” by Benjamin Percy, “Cowboy,” by
Thomas McGuane, and “The Casual Car Pool,” by Katherine Bell,
were the highlights of the collection for this reader.
Tartt’s “The Ambush,” brings us back to the era of childhood,
remembered perfectly, as the protagonist plays with a neighborhood child
who is obsessed with the death of his father in Vietnam. Like Charles Baxter,
like
Charles Schulz, Tartt knows the terrain of childhood well. And the end of
the story becomes a commentary on adult life, seens through the lens of the
children.
“So Much for Artemis” is a complex, multilayered story in which this
reader counted no fewer than seven major characters, with their own crises,
conflicts, and resolutions, all seen through the limited third-person point of
view of another
child protagonist. Despite a near Highlights for Children moment near the end,
the story is one of those that makes you feel, for a moment, that you are floating
in another, perfectly drawn, world.
“Refresh, Refresh,” tackles the Iraq war head on, exploring its effect
on those on the homefront. The fathers of two boys are deployed overseas. Fatherless,
the boys fight bullies, go hunting, encounter a sleazy recruiting officer. The
story hangs together somewhat awkwardly, but the sharpness and crispness of Percy’s
prose provide the true pleasures of the story.
“Cowboy,” by Thomas McGuane, may be one of the most honest stories
of the collection. A cowboy works for an old woman and an “old sumbitch” for
decades, only to discover, at the end, that he himself has become an old sumbitch
himself. Dust, the smell of cattle, the taste of sugary pie, and the sense
of a dull ache of loneliness hung with this reader long after the final word
had
been read.
“
The Casual Car Pool,” by Katherine Bell, is one of the true joys of
this collection. A basejumper gets caught up in the Golden Gate Bridge, slowing
the morning rush hour commute. Bell bounces back and forth from character
to
character slowly, exploring their lives, and weaving them all together into
a beautiful, stable, whole.
There were a host of disappointing pieces. Alice Munro’s “A View
from Castle Rock” and Bob Coover’s “Grandmother’s Nose”—two
mediocre stories by two great talents—being notable examples. Patchett
seemed drawn to stories that dealt with war and/or Asia, in whatever form that
took, and served to reinforce the idea that the “Best American” stories
every year are rarely anything more than reflections of a particular editor’s
tastes.
Any of the 120 stories chosen by Katrina Kenison are just as good,
perhaps better than, the ones finally selected. Flipping through the
back, I
was surprised at how many stories I actually preferred to Patchett’s selections. At
a certain level, there is no “best;” only “preferred.”
So what, if anything, does the 2006 collection “mean” for American
literature? First, that American writers, as a group, are slowly coming around
to “the war,” as its known, and are becoming braver, and more
willing to talk about it. The cowardice and fear of being political that
has marked
American fiction since, perhaps, the mid-nineteen-sixties may be beginning
to crumble.
And, finally, the collection serves as a reminder of the outstanding
talent at work today. With 120 strong stories culled out of the thousands
of stories
being published every year, I struggle to think of another time in
which this many good writers were publishing this many good stories.