From Publishers Weekly
Pushing the boundaries of narrative and form, two-time PEN/Faulkner Award–winner Wideman (
Hoop Roots, etc.) delivers a sometimes electric and sometimes confounding collection of 10 short stories. In the best of these, such as the heartfelt "Are Dreams Faster Than the Speed of Light," about a dying man, and the racially charged "Fanon," Wideman wields his stream-of-consciousness prose to great effect. Often, however, the clever allusions and deft turns of phrase rise one after the other in an almost Sisyphean struggle toward perfection. For instance, in "What We Cannot Speak About We Must Pass Over in Silence," a full page and a half is devoted to describing a coyote "camouflaged by hovering darkness, by mottled fur, a shadow itself, instantly freezing, sniffing the air" as it roams outside a prison. The language is beautiful, but the detour is so long it stops the story dead. The most frustrating example of this calculated experimentation is "The Silence of Thelonious Monk," which starts with a pistol fight between Verlaine and Rimbaud, shifts into the opening lines of a love story and then heads off into an imagined biography of Monk himself. All of which Wideman pulls off with undeniable virtuosity, but it's precisely this sort of narrative acrobatics that too often robs his stories of their power. The full range of Wideman's talents are on display here, however, and even those stories that don't quite live up to expectations are punctuated by moments of brilliance.
(Feb. 9) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From Booklist
Technical virtuosity, without showiness or gimmickry, is Wideman's hallmark, and obviously one of the factors contributing to his receiving the prestigious Rea Award for outstanding accomplishment in the short story. In his latest challenging collection, which numbers 10 stories, he pushes the form's envelope, not to thin lengths but to increased heights of effectiveness. "Weight," one of the best in the collection, assumes the shape of a segment of autobiography as the first-person narrator pays piquant tribute to the quiet strength of his mother (and hence the title of the collection, which comes from the narrator's comment, "The weights she lifts are burdens--her children's, her neighbors, yours"). In "Who Invented the Jump Short," Wideman plays with time and place in a mesmerizingly inventive narrative about, on a metaphysical level, what is truth, and on a more earthly level, race relations past and present. "Sharing" is told from the perspective of a white woman as she relates her encounter with a black neighbor--a brilliant demonstration of Wideman's versatility in adopting voices. Any reader who believes that short stories are too formulaic and constrictive for authors to truly exert their individuality should be required to experience these.
Brad HooperCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved