Reviewed by Ben Wood
A private detective who looks eight or nine and drinks from a sippie cup. A preschool-aged prodigy who can play Beethoven’s Hammerklavier and Bach’s Minuet in A. A fortune cookie company employee whose melancholic fortunes include “A dark shadow moves with you” and “The time for romance has passed.” In her debut collection, Somewhere a Long and Happy Life Probably Awaits You, Jill Sexsmith writes offbeat and funny characters who do weird and sometimes outrageous things. But they exist for more than a cheap laugh (though there are plenty of jokes). Although the characters seem more like caricatures at first, intentionally exaggerated and entirely fictional, Sexsmith is able to reveal through her stories that what actually makes them interesting is their relatable humanity—their pain, their problems, their attempts to improve their lives. The things that make them like everybody else.
The collection’s opening story establishes many of its themes—an engaging mix of humour, quirk, melancholy and, sometimes, downright sadness. Elizabeth is the neighbourhood busybody, the one neighbours watch through the parted curtains of their living room windows. But when it’s revealed that Elizabeth is terminally ill, her quirks, such as her efforts to protect a diseased elm tree from its certain end or her despondent fortunes (like the one that provides the title of the collection) no longer seem only funny. They are, in an odd sort of way, hopeful, even if they are ultimately futile.
In another story—“Downward Slump in the Prodigy Market”—a father invests all his hope and money (prodigy school is expensive, after all) into his child’s future success as a concert pianist. He insures her hands and has her wear falconer’s gloves while not playing the piano. Tulip, the prodigy, appears unfazed by the pressure her parents place on her. But when she loses her big break, she cannot bear to be the reason for her family’s impending misfortune and takes matters into her own hands.
Sexsmith’s style is constant throughout each story. While this gives the collection a cohesive feeling, it also offers little in the way of variety. “The End of the World (Now Postponed),” a story about one man’s monotonous daily rhythm (and aliens), is rather thin and unfulfilled when compared to stronger stories, such as “This Is An Epic Love Story,” which won the Writers’ Union of Canada’s short prose prize in 2014.
Elsewhere, Sexsmith demonstrates her versatility and skill. “The Problem with Babies,” for instance, delivers a mix of touching sincerity and humour while also providing an exemplary case of second person narrative. Sentences are often short and direct, and display Sexsmith’s masterful skill in conveying her characters’ intimate thoughts using few words. In “You Cry Ugly,” a grandmother takes in her rebellious granddaughter, seeking to provide her with the care and discipline denied her by the child’s irresponsible mother. She reflects on parenting: “When a woman has two children she thinks she will love them equally. She prepares for her heart to split. Over time she learns a heart does not divide fifty-fifty.” In “Airplanes Couldn’t Be Happier in Turbulence,” an unhappy wife trying to convince her dismissive husband of the poor treatment of carriage horses explains to him, “A lot of things don’t look like they’re suffering.”
Sexsmith’s collection will bring to mind the tragicomedy of a George Saunders story or the quirk of Miranda July. The story “Hybrid Vigour,” about a failing journalism student who hires a detective to help her find her father, also brings to mind the Jonathan Ames story “Bored to Death” (which later became the premise of an HBO show of the same name), about a man who moonlights as an unlicensed private detective. Like many of Sexsmith’s characters, the narrator of Ames’ story is hoping to solve his 0wn problems by problem-solving for others.
The aforementioned unhappy wife in “Airplanes Couldn’t Be Happier in Turbulence” seeks to free a carriage horse, perhaps to find the strength to free herself from her marriage. The granddaughter in “You Cry Ugly” helps her prudish and widowed grandmother date online rather than dealing with the reason why she’s living with her grandmother in the first place. Elizabeth, in the opening story, tries to save the life of a tree, perhaps hoping it’ll also save her own.
“Hybrid Vigour” provides another small insight into Sexsmith’s stories. After a fruitless search for her father, the narrator worries, “What if, after all these years, I’ve given him a fabulous life as a magician, a mountain climber, a trapeze artist, and he turns out to be ordinary?” She doesn’t have to continue for the reader to know what she’s left unsaid—just like me.
For all their unique talents, terminal illnesses or family drama, each of the characters in Sexsmith’s stories is just that: ordinary, if slightly odd and damaged. Ordinary, and more likely to be attracted to other people’s problems than their own. Ordinary, and finding it hard to change. Ordinary. But who isn’t like this, really?
ARP Books | 160 pages | $22.95 | paper | ISBN #978-1894037716
‘Somewhere a Long and Happy Life Probably Awaits You’ by Jill Sexsmith
Book Reviews
A private detective who looks eight or nine and drinks from a sippie cup. A preschool-aged prodigy who can play Beethoven’s Hammerklavier and Bach’s Minuet in A. A fortune cookie company employee whose melancholic fortunes include “A dark shadow moves with you” and “The time for romance has passed.” In her debut collection, Somewhere a Long and Happy Life Probably Awaits You, Jill Sexsmith writes offbeat and funny characters who do weird and sometimes outrageous things. But they exist for more than a cheap laugh (though there are plenty of jokes). Although the characters seem more like caricatures at first, intentionally exaggerated and entirely fictional, Sexsmith is able to reveal through her stories that what actually makes them interesting is their relatable humanity—their pain, their problems, their attempts to improve their lives. The things that make them like everybody else.
The collection’s opening story establishes many of its themes—an engaging mix of humour, quirk, melancholy and, sometimes, downright sadness. Elizabeth is the neighbourhood busybody, the one neighbours watch through the parted curtains of their living room windows. But when it’s revealed that Elizabeth is terminally ill, her quirks, such as her efforts to protect a diseased elm tree from its certain end or her despondent fortunes (like the one that provides the title of the collection) no longer seem only funny. They are, in an odd sort of way, hopeful, even if they are ultimately futile.
In another story—“Downward Slump in the Prodigy Market”—a father invests all his hope and money (prodigy school is expensive, after all) into his child’s future success as a concert pianist. He insures her hands and has her wear falconer’s gloves while not playing the piano. Tulip, the prodigy, appears unfazed by the pressure her parents place on her. But when she loses her big break, she cannot bear to be the reason for her family’s impending misfortune and takes matters into her own hands.
Sexsmith’s style is constant throughout each story. While this gives the collection a cohesive feeling, it also offers little in the way of variety. “The End of the World (Now Postponed),” a story about one man’s monotonous daily rhythm (and aliens), is rather thin and unfulfilled when compared to stronger stories, such as “This Is An Epic Love Story,” which won the Writers’ Union of Canada’s short prose prize in 2014.
Elsewhere, Sexsmith demonstrates her versatility and skill. “The Problem with Babies,” for instance, delivers a mix of touching sincerity and humour while also providing an exemplary case of second person narrative. Sentences are often short and direct, and display Sexsmith’s masterful skill in conveying her characters’ intimate thoughts using few words. In “You Cry Ugly,” a grandmother takes in her rebellious granddaughter, seeking to provide her with the care and discipline denied her by the child’s irresponsible mother. She reflects on parenting: “When a woman has two children she thinks she will love them equally. She prepares for her heart to split. Over time she learns a heart does not divide fifty-fifty.” In “Airplanes Couldn’t Be Happier in Turbulence,” an unhappy wife trying to convince her dismissive husband of the poor treatment of carriage horses explains to him, “A lot of things don’t look like they’re suffering.”
Sexsmith’s collection will bring to mind the tragicomedy of a George Saunders story or the quirk of Miranda July. The story “Hybrid Vigour,” about a failing journalism student who hires a detective to help her find her father, also brings to mind the Jonathan Ames story “Bored to Death” (which later became the premise of an HBO show of the same name), about a man who moonlights as an unlicensed private detective. Like many of Sexsmith’s characters, the narrator of Ames’ story is hoping to solve his 0wn problems by problem-solving for others.
The aforementioned unhappy wife in “Airplanes Couldn’t Be Happier in Turbulence” seeks to free a carriage horse, perhaps to find the strength to free herself from her marriage. The granddaughter in “You Cry Ugly” helps her prudish and widowed grandmother date online rather than dealing with the reason why she’s living with her grandmother in the first place. Elizabeth, in the opening story, tries to save the life of a tree, perhaps hoping it’ll also save her own.
“Hybrid Vigour” provides another small insight into Sexsmith’s stories. After a fruitless search for her father, the narrator worries, “What if, after all these years, I’ve given him a fabulous life as a magician, a mountain climber, a trapeze artist, and he turns out to be ordinary?” She doesn’t have to continue for the reader to know what she’s left unsaid—just like me.
For all their unique talents, terminal illnesses or family drama, each of the characters in Sexsmith’s stories is just that: ordinary, if slightly odd and damaged. Ordinary, and more likely to be attracted to other people’s problems than their own. Ordinary, and finding it hard to change. Ordinary. But who isn’t like this, really?
ARP Books | 160 pages | $22.95 | paper | ISBN #978-1894037716