The title story first appeared in One Story and then in the Best American Short Stories of 2006. It’s good. Read it.
My favorite story in the collection, however, is “So They Do Not Hear Us.” This story narrates the tale of an old woman who makes her living diving into the sea for whatever sea-life she can retrieve. She befriends a young Japanese boy who has lost an arm in an accident. Ahrim, the woman, lost her husband during the Japanese war, and she has lived many years waiting for him. Sinaru, the boy, lives with his parents who seem to be constantly arguing. His lost arm and the circumstances surrounding it appear to be the source of their arguing. These things form a quiet background to the story, giving the story life and depth. Yoon tells the story with a derth of words. He does not insult the reader. In this passage, Ahrim meets the boy at her home after school. His classmates have been bullying him and Ahrim bristles at this like a bitch with pups.
There he was. She saw the boy through her window, crossing the street, and she thought that what seemed inherent in some was caution. She herself took it from her life in the sea, which moved and pressed against its environment in a perpetual act of provocation. She opened the door before the boy could knock and so upon first sight saw his hand in a fist, raised, his knuckles pointing at her. He wore a different shirt, cleaner, fresh. Cinched at the waist this time was a long thread of twine. A stick was tucked inside it., the end of which he had sharpened to a point. His bruises were healing. The skin of the young does so, much faster than the old.
Two days ago, three boys had wanted to see his stump.
The first punch was to the side of Sinaru’s head. When his body bent, they kicked his shins and hit him on the shoulders, and then ripped the sleeves of his shirt. ‘The Jap has a second dick,’ they said….
She knelt beside her door and examined his legs. The bruises were the color of a mussel’s shell, the color of the outer rim of stars.
“I made this,” Sinaru said, tapping his sword. He looked down at her. He was filled with pride.
“Let’s have a look.”
She stood and he presented the sword to her. It was a branch of forsythia, its gold flowers gone. At the sharp end its flesh was revealed, nearly white against the bark. He would have used a kitchen knife, perhaps, something a bit dull. She could tell from the uneveness of his cuts.
“I would like something for this,” the boy said, raising the stump where his arm once existed. “I’d place it there and then I would be a knight and I could cut paths anywhere.” He made swooshing noises.
“You’d rescue the princess,” Ahrim said.
“Yes, I would.”
“And would you rescue me?”
The boy considered her question. “You’re too old to be a princess.”
“True.”
“But maybe I would.”
“Here,” Ahrim said, lowering the bowl. “Eat.”
With her chopsticks she picked a few strips of the seaweed salad, twisted them, and fed the boy while they were standing at her door. She asked whether anyone had bothered him at school today. He shrugged while chewing.
This passage illustrates all that is great in this story and all that is grand in Yoon’s writing. The brutality of the world. We sense the violence behind this scene. The violence of the bullies, yes, but the violence of the world that would take her husband so young, like the sea in its “perpetual act of provocation.” But the interaction between Ahrim and Sinaru is what is truly touching. Here is a boy being a boy. After being beaten up he has fashioned a sword, and he is proud of it. He dreams of vanquishing his foes. He dreams of glory. She needs to feed him. Subtle and beautiful.
In an interview over at the Rumpus, Yoon describes his motivation for writing:
Writing fiction is kind of a love letter to all the books that have stayed with me and all the readers that share in that feeling I have when I finish a book: I look up and I feel like my surroundings have shifted in some way and I have no idea what has just happened. Your sense of the world has changed, and it is wonderful. And that fuels my obsessive desire to enter fictional worlds, learn about and experience various cultures and history through the imagination.
You feel this yearning in Yoon’s fiction.
Once again, I’ve fallen behind in writing thoughts on the books I’m reading. Some other books I have read of late:
- Everything here is the best thing ever, Justin Taylor
- 66 Stories, Donald Barthelme
- High Lonesome, Barry Hannah
- Last Days of the Dog-Men, Brad Watson
- How to Read an Un-written language, Philip Graham
- Liars and Saints, Maile Meloy
- Erasure, Percevil Everet
- The Lonely Polygamist, Brady Udall
- Elizabeth Costello, J.M. Coetzee
- Waiting for the Barbarians, J.M. Coetzee
If any of these strike your fancy, send me a note, and I’ll post a review.
