In her third collection of short stories, Elaine McCluskey, an award-winning author from Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, throws us headfirst into the lives of ordinary characters in a most extraordinary way. She dares us to care. McCluskey introduces us to her characters’ working class lives, then proceeds to divulge their foibles, fears, hopes, and addictions. She holds their shattered dreams and suffering before us as unapologetically as a political placard.
Her characters include portrait photographers who eat with gluttonous abandon, writing instructors who drink excessively, and abuse victims who gamble obsessively. Many of them are trying to fill a void or soothe a past hurt through exorbitant consumption. They are people living with missed Olympic glory, and people who’ve been falsely accused of heinous crimes. In turn they overreact, suffer from social anxiety disorder, and are collectively worn out by life.
Her writing style is direct, often from the very first line. In “Giddy Up” she starts by telling us “Someone killed Billy Slaunwhite.” In another story, “Doctor Zira,” she reports “My boss was an ugly woman named Zira.”
McCluskey writes with the same level of frankness as her characters, who speak without flourish or sentimentality. In “Something Pretty, Something Nice,” Dara, the manager of a sex shop called Toys Eros, explains “If you don’t have problems, if you don’t have issues, you just aren’t thinking hard enough. You are one of those idiots who goes through life oblivious to the fact that most things are fucked.”
Most of the twenty-one stories in this book conclude without resolution. The characters we have come to care about have moments of happiness, but we’re reminded that it is fleeting, for lives such as theirs cannot be resolved neatly. In “Siegfried” an unhappy, middle aged man named Steven (whose only comfort is food) encounters a teenaged customer who wants to have his portrait taken with his pet rabbit. The moment is unexpected and sweet, and causes Steven to recall the optimism and fun of his youth, before he proceeds to play with the rabbit. Despite this, we know from all the days that preceded this one that he will go home to a negative wife, receive a call from a demanding mother, remain overweight, and be compelled to return to a job he dislikes. It is a truth McCluskey shares openly: life is hard, unfair, and problematic, yet it is not without moments of happiness and levity.
Intent on proving this point, McCluskey infuses her stories with humour that is frequently dark and sometimes light.
In “Pollock Press Wants Your Stories,” an editor named Karen Oxford puts out a call for manuscripts. In turn she receives book proposals from various members of a writers’ group who overestimate their abilities. The editor is presented with submissions that get progressively worse, and each time she responds with tact. Her restraint and continued professionalism is funny. I wanted to share a laugh with her, and hear what she really thought of the submissions.
In “I Saw a Pirate Last Night,” we meet a twenty-something named Daphne who suffers from a broken heart at the hands of a bartender named Dwayne.
McCluskey gives voice to her pain yet allows her character to keep her attitude, sense of fun, self-awareness, and empathy. Daphne, who does not speak with an accent, creates one as an act of defiance, a kind of amusing subversion to perceived injustices. In one scene she returns a dirty look from a cashier by saying “Eeef you smile at the sailors, zey vil be nice to you, especially on Friday night.” In another, she receives a stapled twenty dollar bill, and wants to say “I hef pacemaker that cannot be near metals. Your monies could ke-ill me.”
McCluskey’s concerns are in the tradition of Raymond Carver, the famed American writer who also wrote about the working class in a way that was sympathetic and assured. She too creates characters that keep treading water in hopes of staying alive. McCluskey also pulls this off with clear, economical language that seems authentic to the lives it describes, though we never lose sight of the fact that this is a Canadian book.
McCluskey’s characters live in places like Halifax, Yarmouth, and Parrsboro. They remember watching “The Friendly Giant” and “Chez Hélène” on CBC television and going to the Bill Lynch fair when it came to town. They eat in buffet restaurants that play music by Michael Bublé, and talk to other diners about Sidney Crosby. They fall in love with French women who were members of Canada’s synchronized swim team who also swear in French.
The book design is worth mentioning as it perfectly encapsulates the contents. The title is printed in neon pink and enclosed with two hearts. It is angled slightly upwards on a black and white background, which evokes a directness and risk that is impossible not to notice. We see a woman looking through a window appearing deep in thought. She looks up at the universe as if to say “What’s next? What more do you want from me?” She is serious and stalwart.
Elaine McCluskey has done a fine job in crafting stories about flawed people who are worthy of our admiration for their ability to persevere. She has delivered the goods truthfully without sentiment, in an original and funny way. I dare you not to care.
Enfield & Wizenty | 200 pages | $19.95 | paper | ISBN # 978-1926531991
‘Hello, Sweetheart’ by Elaine McCluskey
Book Reviews
In her third collection of short stories, Elaine McCluskey, an award-winning author from Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, throws us headfirst into the lives of ordinary characters in a most extraordinary way. She dares us to care. McCluskey introduces us to her characters’ working class lives, then proceeds to divulge their foibles, fears, hopes, and addictions. She holds their shattered dreams and suffering before us as unapologetically as a political placard.
Her characters include portrait photographers who eat with gluttonous abandon, writing instructors who drink excessively, and abuse victims who gamble obsessively. Many of them are trying to fill a void or soothe a past hurt through exorbitant consumption. They are people living with missed Olympic glory, and people who’ve been falsely accused of heinous crimes. In turn they overreact, suffer from social anxiety disorder, and are collectively worn out by life.
Her writing style is direct, often from the very first line. In “Giddy Up” she starts by telling us “Someone killed Billy Slaunwhite.” In another story, “Doctor Zira,” she reports “My boss was an ugly woman named Zira.”
McCluskey writes with the same level of frankness as her characters, who speak without flourish or sentimentality. In “Something Pretty, Something Nice,” Dara, the manager of a sex shop called Toys Eros, explains “If you don’t have problems, if you don’t have issues, you just aren’t thinking hard enough. You are one of those idiots who goes through life oblivious to the fact that most things are fucked.”
Most of the twenty-one stories in this book conclude without resolution. The characters we have come to care about have moments of happiness, but we’re reminded that it is fleeting, for lives such as theirs cannot be resolved neatly. In “Siegfried” an unhappy, middle aged man named Steven (whose only comfort is food) encounters a teenaged customer who wants to have his portrait taken with his pet rabbit. The moment is unexpected and sweet, and causes Steven to recall the optimism and fun of his youth, before he proceeds to play with the rabbit. Despite this, we know from all the days that preceded this one that he will go home to a negative wife, receive a call from a demanding mother, remain overweight, and be compelled to return to a job he dislikes. It is a truth McCluskey shares openly: life is hard, unfair, and problematic, yet it is not without moments of happiness and levity.
Intent on proving this point, McCluskey infuses her stories with humour that is frequently dark and sometimes light.
In “Pollock Press Wants Your Stories,” an editor named Karen Oxford puts out a call for manuscripts. In turn she receives book proposals from various members of a writers’ group who overestimate their abilities. The editor is presented with submissions that get progressively worse, and each time she responds with tact. Her restraint and continued professionalism is funny. I wanted to share a laugh with her, and hear what she really thought of the submissions.
In “I Saw a Pirate Last Night,” we meet a twenty-something named Daphne who suffers from a broken heart at the hands of a bartender named Dwayne.
McCluskey gives voice to her pain yet allows her character to keep her attitude, sense of fun, self-awareness, and empathy. Daphne, who does not speak with an accent, creates one as an act of defiance, a kind of amusing subversion to perceived injustices. In one scene she returns a dirty look from a cashier by saying “Eeef you smile at the sailors, zey vil be nice to you, especially on Friday night.” In another, she receives a stapled twenty dollar bill, and wants to say “I hef pacemaker that cannot be near metals. Your monies could ke-ill me.”
McCluskey’s concerns are in the tradition of Raymond Carver, the famed American writer who also wrote about the working class in a way that was sympathetic and assured. She too creates characters that keep treading water in hopes of staying alive. McCluskey also pulls this off with clear, economical language that seems authentic to the lives it describes, though we never lose sight of the fact that this is a Canadian book.
McCluskey’s characters live in places like Halifax, Yarmouth, and Parrsboro. They remember watching “The Friendly Giant” and “Chez Hélène” on CBC television and going to the Bill Lynch fair when it came to town. They eat in buffet restaurants that play music by Michael Bublé, and talk to other diners about Sidney Crosby. They fall in love with French women who were members of Canada’s synchronized swim team who also swear in French.
The book design is worth mentioning as it perfectly encapsulates the contents. The title is printed in neon pink and enclosed with two hearts. It is angled slightly upwards on a black and white background, which evokes a directness and risk that is impossible not to notice. We see a woman looking through a window appearing deep in thought. She looks up at the universe as if to say “What’s next? What more do you want from me?” She is serious and stalwart.
Elaine McCluskey has done a fine job in crafting stories about flawed people who are worthy of our admiration for their ability to persevere. She has delivered the goods truthfully without sentiment, in an original and funny way. I dare you not to care.
Enfield & Wizenty | 200 pages | $19.95 | paper | ISBN # 978-1926531991