Belletrista - Reviews

HOW TO STOP LOVING SOMEONE

by Joan Connor

Reviewed by Kathleen Ambrogi

This book of short stories by award-winning author Joan Connor is a bit like an Oreo cookie: there are many parts to enjoy. If the filling is too sweet, chase it with the plainer, more serious biscuit part. If the chocolate biscuit is too dark, then skim the frosting off with your teeth and savor the satisfaction of something deliciously silly. This book has it all.

Connor is in all ways a wordsmith, and she turns this facility with language to various purposes. Consider this, from the first story—the comic ice-breaker "Men in Brown"—about a reclusive woman in love with the UPS man:

I imagined myself tap-dancing my heart out on Little Jack Horner's plummy pie while reciting sonnets, the couplets rhyming like door chimes, like thee and me. I inked in order forms, one a day, then two, before I knew it, seven or eight a day, and, driving to the post office I startled, did triple and quadruple takes, thinking that I spotted his sporty van jaunting along the road, here, no there, turning the corner in the corner of my eye.

We're carried through on a tide of onomatopoeia, alliteration and more than a few drum beats. I admire Connor's cleverness, but humor is not my thing, so language turned to its service can be wearying. Lucky me, her talents can turn serious, too. In the marvelous "Tide Walk," a woman meditates on language, love and divorce as she walks the beach, observing seagulls as they crack mussels on the rocks:

The mussel centers quiver, a life form as simple as a nerve. They open themselves to a squawk, a beaked jab. Perhaps there's an instant, a shiver, when the mussel shrivels into its shell, but no concealing chamber opens to receive the reflex. How quiet endings are after all the commotion.

Connor's verbal fluency is invariably right on the mark, suited to mood and voice, and a surprisingly broad array of settings. Her Austin, Texas rings as true as her coastal Maine or her Greek island village. And it's hard to imagine a more diverse analysis of love than Connor offers, either. I was delighted by the story of the woman who loses her husband to her own alter ego after she dons a wig, and the moody piece about a man who is overtaken by an attack of lust after running aground on an almost-deserted island. She includes several insightful tales about the difficulties inherent in constructing or deconstructing relationships, including the excellent "How to Stop Loving Someone: A Twelve Step Program," a wry analysis of heartbreak. Most of all, however, I was smitten by the story entitled "Halfbaby," a Faulknerian tale of lonely women, second sight and divided siblings. That one will stay with me a long time.

According to one of Connor's characters, "A story is not a straight line, but a blue and rimless bowl rising to contain the shape that will define it." And a trek through this book will not be a straight line, either. You will have to adjust your pace to accommodate humor, tragedy, mystery, irony and some experimental detours. By the end, however, I predict you will have found at least a few delicious bites to satisfy your hunger for excellent storytelling. I certainly did.

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Reviews
Leapfrog Press, paperback, 9781935248200	HOW TO STOP LOVING SOMEONE by Joan Connor Reviewed by Kathleen Ambrogi This book of short stories by award-winning author Joan Connor is a bit like an Oreo cookie: there are many parts to enjoy. If the filling is too sweet, chase it with the plainer, more serious biscuit part. If the chocolate biscuit is too dark, then skim the frosting off with your teeth and savor the satisfaction of something deliciously silly. This book has it all. Connor is in all ways a wordsmith, and she turns this facility with language to various purposes. Consider this, from the first story—the comic ice-breaker "Men in Brown"—about a reclusive woman in love with the UPS man: I imagined myself tap-dancing my heart out on Little Jack Horner's plummy pie while reciting sonnets, the couplets rhyming like door chimes, like thee and me. I inked in order forms, one a day, then two, before I knew it, seven or eight a day, and, driving to the post office I startled, did triple and quadruple takes, thinking that I spotted his sporty van jaunting along the road, here, no there, turning the corner in the corner of my eye. We're carried through on a tide of onomatopoeia, alliteration and more than a few drum beats. I admire Connor's cleverness, but humor is not my thing, so language turned to its service can be wearying. Lucky me, her talents can turn serious, too. In the marvelous "Tide Walk," a woman meditates on language, love and divorce as she walks the beach, observing seagulls as they crack mussels on the rocks: The mussel centers quiver, a life form as simple as a nerve. They open themselves to a squawk, a beaked jab. Perhaps there's an instant, a shiver, when the mussel shrivels into its shell, but no concealing chamber opens to receive the reflex. How quiet endings are after all the commotion. Connor's verbal fluency is invariably right on the mark, suited to mood and voice, and a surprisingly broad array of settings. Her Austin, Texas rings as true as her coastal Maine or her Greek island village. And it's hard to imagine a more diverse analysis of love than Connor offers, either. I was delighted by the story of the woman who loses her husband to her own alter ego after she dons a wig, and the moody piece about a man who is overtaken by an attack of lust after running aground on an almost-deserted island. She includes several insightful tales about the difficulties inherent in constructing or deconstructing relationships, including the excellent "How to Stop Loving Someone: A Twelve Step Program," a wry analysis of heartbreak. Most of all, however, I was smitten by the story entitled "Halfbaby," a Faulknerian tale of lonely women, second sight and divided siblings. That one will stay with me a long time. According to one of Connor's characters, "A story is not a straight line, but a blue and rimless bowl rising to contain the shape that will define it." And a trek through this book will not be a straight line, either. You will have to adjust your pace to accommodate humor, tragedy, mystery, irony and some experimental detours. By the end, however, I predict you will have found at least a few delicious bites to satisfy your hunger for excellent storytelling. I certainly did.
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