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Where The Dog Star Never
Glows
by Tara Masih
Press 53
2010, Paperback
First collection
awards: Finalist, National Best Book Awards 2010
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Win a copy of this book! See the Competitions page for details.
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"Countless times I stand on
the threshold of her doorway. I can’t move forward or
retreat. I stand, staring at death. I understand
families who pull the plug on their brain-dead relatives. Yet my mother
will rise up again, when her voices grow weaker and her spirit
stronger, and every time I see this perpetual, tortured resurrection, I
move on, with less desire."
Reviewed by Michelle Reale
While written in simple and unadorned prose, the stories in Tara
Masih’s debut collection succeed so well, because the devil is in the
details, and she gets all of them right. The ability to feel
uncomfortable when reading a short story indicates a deep understanding
or revelation of some kind that one can relate to. Masih deposits her
readers in locales that may or may not be familiar ones to us, But what
happens to her characters in these different places are things that
will surely resonate.
In
the title story, we meet Cap, a man born into the brutal coal mining
profession. While he has just barely escaped an almost always fatal
cave-in, walking on his way home, he sees the new symbol of death, a
man-made star:
"Not a star of Bethlehem, guiding everyone to
life, but a death start, hung to announce the untimely passing of one
of his sons. A new symbol of death fast replacing the ambulance cross,
cutting into the new generation." In Asylum,
Bliss, named by her mother "… more from hope than intuitions," tells
the story of growing up with her schizophrenic mother, June. After her
father left, Bliss watched her mother slowly succumb to the ravages of
mental illness, while often lucid enough to work small jobs such as
stapling pinwheels together at home, telling her daughter "I’m making
sure I have burial insurance so you won’t have to worry, Bliss." If the
devil is in the details, this is one story in which Masih gets it right
in nearly every single line. The poignant details of the mother’s best
attempts to do the best she can are absolutely heartbreaking. All the
while, Bliss is vigilant of the symptoms of the illness that might well
have been passed on to her by her mother, lying dormant in her own
brain, waiting to make its debut:
"My own voices are
beginning: Could this be you? Will this be you? Did
Grandmother Mae pass this curse along to June? Did June pass it to
Bliss? Every day I listen for devils, gage my withdrawal from the
outside world. And I begin to live in a tunnel, my future
narrowing to a small, distant point I am afraid to see." Two short pieces, Huldi and Suspended,
respectively, are remarkable for their condensed but intense window
into two vastly different experiences. In the former, a young
Indian bride submits herself to the age old pre-marriage
rituals. While society expects her to keep her eyes downcast and
her manner "fey," she burns with desire of the unknown, awakened by the
motion of her mother’s hands applying the purifying paste all over her
body.
In Suspended a
woman hits an animal, sailing her Pontiac "into the limbs of an
evergreen that roots below the macadam edge." While the woman
must quickly ascertain whether she is dead or not (she decides she
isn’t) she exists for seven days in the limbs of the tree until she is
rescued.
Masih is a master of the small moment, the intricate
detail, the aura of déjà vu, and more than accomplished at writing
stories about one of the greatest human qualities, intimacy, and
how the attempt, more than the failure or success, is really most
important.
Win a copy of this book! See the Competitions page for details.
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Michelle Reale is an academic
librarian on faculty at a university in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
Her work has been published in a variety of venues such
as Eyeshot, Word Riot, Smokelong Quarterly,
Monkeybicycle, Blue Print Review, Dark Sky Magazine,
elimae and many others others. She is the author of
the fiction chapbook Natural
Habitat, recently published by Burning River. Her
fiction/prose poem chapbook, Like Lungfish Getting
Through the Dry Season, will be
forthcoming from Thunderclap Press.
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