29-30.12: I'm Starved for You and I Dream of Zenia with the Bright Red Teeth, by Margaret Atwood (2012, available in eBook only)

 Anyone who knows me well is aware of the fact that I am a big fan of Margaret Atwood's work. I've read everything she's written, whether poetry, fiction, children's picture books (Princess Prunella and the Purple Peanut is a favorite of mine.) or nonfiction, and I wrote my master's thesis on three of her novels--exploring the way women use power in relationships with each other. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that I'd be willing to shell out $2.99 and $1.99--the cost of these two publications on iBooks--for two short stories. You might not be so eager to do so, but I for one have no regrets.

I'm Starved for You (I'm waffling on the choice of quotation marks or italics here, but I've decided to use italics as this is a single publication, despite its short length.) is what Atwood would refer to as a piece of ustopian speculative fiction. In an America that is spiraling into violence, poverty, and environmental degradation, one corporation finds a solution--and a way to maintain a comfortable profit margin. People are invited to volunteer to serve as inmates at a prison for monthly shifts, alternating with others who share their house when they are incarcerated. In this manner, people trade personal freedom for security and comfort. I'm sure you won't be surprised to find out that it's not quite that simple.

In I Dream of Zenia with the Bright Red Teeth, readers get to revisit characters from The Robber Bride. Roz, Charis, and Tony have weathered the years together and still provide emotional support across their different social circles. In this story, Charis reports on a dream she had, starring their former enemy, now deceased, dressed in a wolf's coat, and Roz and Tony spend time dissecting it and offering Charis advice about her love life and Billy's return to the scene. The story itself is charming, but what I really enjoyed was being reunited with these old friends. Anyone who was a fan of The Robber Bride will enjoy this story, with the only disappointment being that we didn't get more time with Charis, Roz, and Tony.

92.11: Full Dark, No Stars, by Stephen King (2010 hardcover)

I'm not a fan of short-story collections, preferring full-length novels because of their richer character and plot development. There are a few authors, however, for whom I make an exception and check out their shorter fiction, and King is among those. I know there are many people who might not accept King's work as serious "literature" because of his frequent forays into the supernatural, fantasy, and flat-out weird, but I strongly feel that's a narrow view--and one all too commonly held when it comes to authors of SciFi and fantasy. In truth, I feel there are few writers today who have the narrative skill and storytelling power King exhibits again and again, across genre and format.

The four stories in this collection (called "long stories" on the book jacket) aptly demonstrate King's remarkable ability to engage readers and draw them through to the plot's conclusion--despite the fact that the tales told are dark and distasteful. As soon as the premise of each story became clear (murder of a spouse, betrayal of a best friend, rape and revenge, discovery of a spouse's horrible secret), I paused to think about whether I really wanted to continue. However, as any fan of King knows, that opportunity to consider turning back came a little too far down the road: having started the trip under King's skillful direction, I felt compelled to see the journey though. Even knowing there were likely no "happy" endings, and further burdened by the fact that there were no supernatural elements (which would at least allow me the luxury to discount them as improbable), I continued to the destination King set. And, as disturbing as those conclusions were, amongst my feelings of relief upon completing the book, I also experienced a moment of joy: the joy of having a light shone into the darkness to reveal what resides there--without needing to investigate it alone.

8: Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, by David Sedaris (2010 hardcover)

I've read everything David Sedaris has published, look forward to his pieces in The New Yorker, and go to see him every couple years when he performs on campus.  So, I'm a fan.  And, when his recent book came out, I didn't even read a review or glance at the book jacket; I bought it on first sight.  I picked up the book a couple months ago on a rainy afternoon, anticipating settling in with a good friend, and was instead met by a stranger.  Simply put, on first impression this book is nothing like any other Sedaris publication.

I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it that first time.  Indeed, I read the first two anthropomorphic fables in the collection--"The Cat and the Baboon" and "The Migrating Warbler"--smiled a bit, scratched my head, and put the book aside. Another couple books got piled on top of it, giving me something to focus on while the puzzle of the new Sedaris book worked itself out in the back of my mind. Finally, unwilling to betray my fandom, I recently decided it was time to try it again, and this time I was ready. Instead of seeing these stories of animals as something foreign and different, on my second approach I recognized that the ironic magnifying glass which Sedaris trains on his family, friends, and himself, is still focused on the same subject manner in these fables. Indeed, the animal protagonists and antagonists share the same foibles and fears as characters do in the human world.  I wouldn't exactly say that there is a self-evident moral to every story, a la Aesop, but underneath the fur and feathers you'll certainly recognize a few folks that you know.

Maybe it was because I was ready, but the third story of the collection--the "Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk" of the book's title--captured me immediately, providing a tale familiar to anyone who has been in or knows someone who's been in a mixed-species (or race, or religion, or...) relationship. The (expectedly) horrible behavior of the crow in "The Crow and the Lamb," the selfishness of the cow in "The Cow and the Turkey," and the foolishness of one of "The Parenting Storks" will surely remind readers of some members of the human species.  Quite frankly, "Hello Kitty" offers the absolutely best cat-in-prison AA story that I've ever heard.

In the end, I was happy to discover that underneath a new genre--and handsomely illustrated by Ian Falconer, author/illustrator of the wonderful Olivia the Pig children's books--lurks the same Sedaris stories that fans enjoy.  And, I can assure you that I will never look at an Irish Setter the same way again.