The second five stories in Best
British Short Stories 2016 seem to depend on an intertextual literary context,
using works of literature or criticism to provide a framework for the stories
or exploring stories in which characters live in a literary work or a literary world.
Ian Parkinson, "A Belgian
Story"
What do you do when you are lonely?
You write a story. What do you do
when you are alone in Belgium? Well, you write a Belgian story, of course. And
in this story, Belgium is a depressing place infested with a plague of rats
with no Pied Piper to lure them away.
The narrator, who suffers from depression, meets a man who identifies
himself as an English writer. The man has bought a pellet gun for the rats in
his apartment and invites the narrator to join him in a little competition over
who can kill the most rats.
At first the writer says what they are doing is like a scene in Graham
Green's novel Heart of the Matter, in
which two men pass the time by killing cockroaches for drinks. Then he says it is like Albert Camus's The Plague, in which rats spread a plague in an Algerian
city.
When the writer returns to England, the narrator can find no evidence
on the Internet of an English writer with the man's name, and he begins to
wonder if he had invented him. He tells
his readers that they should not treat the rats in the story as being "in
any way symbolic," for that has not been his intention. Indeed, as the
conclusion suggests, he seems to have had no intention, although this does not
mean the story has no meaning.
When he is told by immigration officers that they have lost his papers
and that he will have to do them all over again to be able to leave Belgium, he
buys paper for the dozens of letters he knows he will have to write, and the
story ends this way: "And so started this Belgian story, on nothing more
than a whim, beginning on the night I met the English novelist in an empty bar…
and leading I don't know where." Thus, the story ends the way all stories
end—with the beginning of the story—a story that seeks to make a story out of a
basic situation of infestation and a basic sense of isolation.
DJ Taylor, "Some Versions
of Pastoral"
This is a story about trying to live in a literary world--with
contextual references to Marlowe's poem, "The Passionate Shepherd to His
Love," and William Empson's critical study, Some Versions of Pastoral, which expands the definition of the
form.
The plot of the story, which is less important
than the literary context the story creates, involves a couple's visit to an
elderly couple named the Underwoods. We know we have entered a literary world,
albeit a juvenile one, in the first paragraph when the narrator says to negotiate
the Underwoods' garden is to "pass through the pages of a children's
picture book where all the animals had grown to fantastic sizes and nuance was
forever kept at bay."
When the visiting husband goes with Mrs.
Underwood into the kitchen for tea, "the thought of being in a Beatrix
Potter story where Johnny Town Mouse might soon appear at the window with his
tail twirled over his top-coated arm was rather too strong for comfort."
When he sees an empty bird cage with gilded bars and open door, he thinks there
is something horribly symbolic about it. When Mrs. Underwood takes the tea
things back in the kitchen, she makes curiously jerky movements "like some
marionette whose strings were twisted from on high."
The central symbolic event in the story is a dual
or mirror event, for just as the husband breaks a china cup in the kitchen—a
cup Mrs. Underwood has said is Lytton Strachey's cup—Mr. Underwood and the wife
break another tea cup out in the garden.
On the ride home, the wife tells her husband
that Mr. Underwood had asked her if she
would come and live with him and be his love and that she pushed him away,
causing the tea cup to shatter. When the wife tells her husband that someone
once told her that Mrs. Underwood had once had an affair with the poet Philip
Larkin, the husband imagines the old woman sitting in a restaurant with
Larkin—a scene that he thinks "had a tuppence-colored air of
unreality."
The husband thinks that somewhere in the world
there "lurked an art which you could set against the armies of commerce
and bureaucracy to lay them waste," but it was not to be found in the
Underwoods' garden. And so they go back
home to a world where "nobody, whether in jest or earnest, asked anyone to
live with them and be their love." A melancholy acceptance of reality.
Come live with
me and be my love,
And we will all
the pleasures prove,
That Valleys,
groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steep
mountain yields.
Colette Sensier, "Mrs.
Świȩtokrzyskie's Castle"
This is a story about living in an alternate reality that becomes more
real than the ordinary physical world.
It is less about an old woman getting cheated into spending all her
money on a computer game than it is about what it means to live in an alternate
world.
This is a plot-based story, which accounts for it being one of the
longer stories in the collection. The
length is inevitable since the story is actually two parallel stories—the
so-called "real life" story of Mrs. Świȩtokrzyskie, the man she is
involved with, and her two adult children, and the fantasy story she lives
within the computer game—a world that, because it is an objectification of her
dreams, is more "real" (whatever that means) than the world of
everyday reality, in which—like all of us—she is dying.
Neil Campbell, "A Leg to
Stand On"
At some point in a collection of British short stories you might expect
a story about how creative writing programs in academic departments are
bollocks. This is that story. The segue is a dialogue about football
players who get injured in play and then write books about the experience. The
phrase of the title suggests a situation in which the argument presented has no
real support. Two British football players who get an injured leg—Paul Lake and
Colin Bell— literally end up with not a leg to stand on.
Some of the rather predictable observations of the writers in the story
are: "It seems the work can't just stand for itself any more. You have to be able to explain it."
"That's why academics can't write fiction. They analyse it too much; they
can't free themselves up or let themselves go." "We know that a lot of creative writing
in academia is bollocks."
The story is a sort of dialogue
between two points of view about writing—neither of which seem to have a leg to
stand on. Anyone in any graduate program in literature or creative writing in
the U.S. or England knows about the tacit, sometimes open, conflict between the
two programs.
Alex Preston, "Wyndham Le
Strange Buys the School"
This is a lyrical story of four veterans of WWI, damaged by the war, who
come together at the school they once attended.
It is the lyricism of the story that makes it work. The key phrase repeated throughout is
"as if," for the men live in an "as if" world of fictional
reality at the school.
The narrator says he feels life seeping back into his bones at the
school, that life is slowly, hesitantly, crawling out from under the rock of
the war. "It is as if we have entered some sacred grove whose nepenthe an
air has overthrown all the ills of the young century, and we are back were we
began."
The narrator finds a copy of Chekhov's stories and reads them aloud.
"The stories unknit something in us, and in the depths of them we find
parts of ourselves that we feared lost forever." When he reads "The
Lady with the Little Dog" to the men, they seem to be rendered almost invisible
by the brightness of the light, as if they are made of air or the light.
One by one, the men begin to awaken from some terrible dream to "feel
the firmness of the living world," and one by one they begin to
leave. When only the narrator is left,
he realizes that he needed this retreat even more than the others--"a
haunt away from a world that carries on as if the war never happened."
Of these five stories, this is my favorite. But then how could a lover
of the short story like me resist a lyrical story that uses stories to mend the
lives of broken men—especially the stories of Chekhov?
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