In my last blog <A list of sorts, and George Saunders> I mentioned Manuel Gonzales’ book of short stories, The Miniature Wife, on my to be read shelf. Well, I’ve been reading it, and liking it, a lot.
When blogging about a short story collection, I like to focus in on one of the stories, peripherally, skirting around it, and maybe give you a sense of his skill and meaning, rather than sum up the stories as a whole. This could be the wrong strategy, but, and if it is, well, sorry folks.
The story I want to give a brief sketch of is the first in the book, Pilot, Copliot, Writer. Think about: you are in a plane; it is hijacked. You and your fellow passengers stay in flight, circling the city of Dallas, for the next twenty years. This is the situation. It is left unexplained how this state has been extended, the logistics of fuel and food economy left to our wonder with hints of ‘perpetual oil’ and vials of clear liquid to be ingested, “two drops, two drops will do,” says the hijacker pilot. The point of these stories is not the science behind such ideas, Gonzales doesn’t waste time with that nonsense, rather the point is to create worlds not so unlike our own, but with these fabulist situations to aerate the philosophic soil and better allow us to explore our motives, our needs, wants, and desires. In short, Gonzales has crafted stories here that test our souls.
Dark and innovative. A total blast to read. This is the first book by Manuel Gonzales and I’m ready for his next.
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