Women and Ghosts

 I'm that sucker the read EVERY book assigned for a class. To the point that it became a running gag throughout the first twenty something years of my life. 

My mother even said "Why bother reading all of the book? Everyone just reads the Cliffs Notes. Or watches the movies?!" And this, was and is still, quite true but I felt honor bound to always read these books. 

Only exceptions were The Count of Monte Cristo in the 10th grade. I took my mother's advice and read the Cliffs Note and then promptly bombed the test. A test the teacher delayed because everyone complained about needing more time to read it. Serves me right. I sat behind my long running crush Irma Arzola and spent too much time day dreaming. Whenever we had gym as our special (10th grade was the last year with pre-assigned specials. 11th and 12th were for AP classes) she wore her gym outfit all day and it was all short shorts and a t-shirt a bit too tight as to see the outline of her bra. 

The other exception was in college, junior year, when I took a classes called Revolutions, Rebellions and Revolts. Beyond the metal sounding name it was taught by a mustachioed Polish-American named Zenon Wasyliw that headed the history department.  Less real politik than history we just learned about the details behind Che Guevara, Mao, the overthrow of the Shah. And we learned about SOuth Africa and had to read Mandela's autobiography which was huge. Two telephone books huge. Guy had plenty to say even though he was in jail for so long! And I made it until maybe 3/4ths of it before I gave up. We had maybe a week of discussion about this. In May. For a twice a week Tuesday-Thursday class. Fuck it. Until Zenon called on me because "We know you read the book!" Luckily, I bull shitted my way through the answer, which, no one could call me out on because...only I read the book!

That all said...I can't remember much of these books. Blame age. Blame the authors. Blame video games, work, kids, tiki drinks, or my allergies, but instead it series of flashes. I read them and spent money on them, but few stick.

Those that did are predominatly short story collections. CivilWarLand in Bad Decline by George Saunders. This is how you lose her by Junot Diaz. How to Breather Underwater by Julie Orringer. 

And Women and Ghosts by Alison Lurie which I thought was out of print but I'm basing that on how big a pain it was to get 15 years ago. But there it was on bookshop.org with other listing for late 80s early 90s brat pack literati. Jay McInerney and Bret Easton Ellis before they became dicks. That is my jam! 

These stories pop for their flow and lovely details without going overboard. All these stories center around people who are quite well off but are never un sympathetic even when receiving comeuppance. These are ghost stories after all. 

Like any anthology, the stories do vary in quality. "Counting Sheep" feels like one of the magical reasons type short stories I tried in the past. What sounds quite profound (he never wants to leave so he becomes a sheep!) is just goofy. This isn't a myth and its quite literal.

"The Highboy" is the story I remember and how it didn't become a goofy tv movie must be because Laurie had scruples. She only recently passed away in December 2020 so why not cash in for your kids or grandkids. Raul Julia in Street Fighter style! In it a malevolent piece of furniture looms literally in the living room and it makes you feel and think on how we anthromprmize things. Feel scorned and owned by what surrounds us.

"Ilse's House" and "Fat People" are also bangers. I know if I were a woman I would likely appreciate these better but if you want to read to learn about others then this is good one, my brothers.  Reading this gave me an early lesson that how I thought writing a female character worked was inherently wrong. Plenty of bad writing stopped right there.