The short stories in Eley Williams' debut collection may not have any concrete connection to each other, but many of them depict brief moments of emotional drama. However, instead of burrowing into the characters' feelings or reasons for these instances of lovers breaking up and other life changes, the stories are filled with seemingly trivial, distracted trails of thought that we follow through until the apparent crisis has passed. This technique might feel hollow if it weren't for the skilful way the author shows how our encounters with others (especially in highly dramatic moments) are often consumed with a fragmentation of different thoughts. It points to the gaps between language and meaning, emotion and its expression, experience and memory. While this left me wondering about many of the details behind these stories, I was nevertheless very moved by the sensation of these private moments of contemplation which are often punctuated with a playful curiosity and humour.
There's an affectionally-portrayed introversion to these tales. We follow narrators who recite the lyrics to a song from the musical Oliver! or recount how starlings were brought to America by a man honouring Shakespeare. There's an accumulation of odd tidbits and facts which clutter an inward looking mind. This sensibility is enhanced by the way the narrators have more evident connections with animals or insects rather than humans. There's a hedgehog paddling in a swimming pool, a landmine seeking rat with great comic timing and a spider who constructs elaborate tricks. These are beings whose interior realities are ultimately unknowable and so they are in a way safe as confidants. But there are also beautiful moments of romantic tension where a narrator is mesmerised by the colour of a boy's eyes who he hides in a closet with or a narrator who panics over whether to kiss their same-sex partner in a gallery.
Naturally, I felt the strongest bond with stories where there was a clear tension and something precious was at stake (even if I wasn't certain about the dramatic architecture surrounding this moment.) Several stories express an intense longing for a lover or friend without describing the particular circumstances. 'Concision' is a heartbreaking tale where an abruptly ended phone conversation results in the narrator staring contemplatively at the numerous black holes in the landline receiver. 'Spins' recounts a narrator's fumbling attempts to furtively dispose of a lover's silk pyjamas in a bin that's a sufficient distance from their home. 'Platform' describes a photo taken during a lover's departure at a train station and how the toupee of a man in the background flew off his head at that exact second. There are volumes of unspoken emotion invisibly built into the background of these tales.
Not every story is built around an untold crisis. There are tales that compellingly focus more on an obscure job like recording sounds to go with an art exhibit's audio guide or a chef who specialises in cooking birds in alcohol or a story about the construction and meaning of rosettes in politics. Some stories pushed too far into obscurity so I was left feeling puzzled rather than moved by the unknown details surrounding them. But, on the whole, the stories in this collection are so innovative and enjoyable. Their sense of humour and wordplay alongside an affection for second person narrators felt reminiscent of Ali Smith to me and that's always a good thing. There's something so unique about Williams' slant on the world that I'm very much looking forward to reading her novel.
