|
Jun
30
|
Posted by Christopher Waldrop
June 30, 2008 |
|
I’ve been a fan of Steve Almond’s work since I read an excerpt from Candyfreak in Utne Reader. Combining both disturbing confessions about his candy addiction (the first sentence is “The author has eaten a piece of candy every single day of his entire life”, although it’s rarely been just one piece) and serious reporting on the decline of independent candy manufacturers in the United States, it’s gonzo journalism without the drugs and without the acerbic edge. And Almond has returned to the theme of obsession with his latest book (Not That You Asked): Rants, Exploits, and Obsessions, in which he says, “The longer I read and write, the more I come to view obsession as the essential engine of literature.” And yet the theme of obsession colors all of his work, including his wonderfully crystalline short stories. His first collection, My Life In Heavy Metal, was good, but my favorite, a book I’ve reread at least three times, not counting the times I’ve re-read single stories (is this the beginning of an obsession?) is The Evil B.B. Chow. Almond’s characters are, for the most part, sad, ordinary people, but these aren’t banal “slice of life” stories. A widower dealing with his teenage daughter, a woman whose boyfriend won’t touch her anymore, and an academic who obsesses over Michael Jackson’s penis are people who, because they seem so real in Almond’s stories, are more than the caricatures they could be, becoming people we ache to hold, or people we wish could hold us. At the book’s center is Lincoln Arisen, a historical piece about Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. Placing this story in a collection about modern, ordinary people only serves to humanize the historical figures, though, as well as raising the contemporary. Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass were great individuals, but it’s clear that, in Steve Almond’s view, we’re all great. And so are our obsessions.
Comments
