ritics talk a lot about "voice" in poetry, not so much in fiction. I’ve been wondering why after reading Brock Clarke’s Prairie Schooner Prize winning collection of short stories, Carrying the Torch (Bison, 2005). Did I say reading? I should have said eating.

It’s all about Clarke’s voice, which is wry, reflective (but not too), keen and loaded with yearning and regret. I’d say a male voice, though Clarke’s female narrators are persuasive.  It’s a voice that speaks clearly over all the other distractions (children asking please make dinner, we’re hungry, for instance). And if the voice wants to take me to suburban life in South Carolina, or a lake house in Connecticut, I didn’t know I wanted to go there until just now, but certainly I do.

Continue reading “Carrying the Torch”

his short story I published with Whetstone Literary Journal some years ago will soon be a short feature film from westbound films.  My old homie Isaac Lane is the director and it promises to be very serious indy hit.  If you dig the story, check out westbound films and the movie poster and more info at: www.westboundfilms.com

Continue reading “Out of the Blue (Film and Story)”

went to Seward, “Nebraska’s 4th of July City,” to celebrate our nation’s independence.  The downtown area, reminiscent of any Main Street, America, was decked out in patriotic digs and covered with vendors of all types. I went there for the parade.  I fought friendly crowds (Seward swells on Independence Day; Americans come from all over to celebrate in a small town way) and made my way to reserved seats on the parade route.  The main reason I was there was Ted Kooser — the famed poet was the Grand Marshal of the parade!  And how great is that?  A poet … Continue reading Kooser Sighting

lick HERE to read a wonderful article about Prairie Books & Gifts in Hastings, Nebraska.  If you have a favorite bookstore in mind, drop us a line and we may discuss it on our blog. Click HERE to see a neat piece on Nebraska writers in Salon.com.  Meghan Daum mentions the University of Nebraska Press’ writers Ladette Randolph, Timothy Schaffert, and Willa Cather.  Really, it makes one want to visit this prairie state if they aren’t already here. –DeEee for the University of Nebraska Press Continue reading Indie Booksellers, Nebraska Writers

magine you had a genetic disease that every time you touched someone
with your bare skin you would cause some sort of harmful effect.  Some
make people go blind.  Others deaf.  Some lose sense of direction.
Others are paralyzed.  And the duration is different for each person.
You might go blind for 15 minutes if one of these people touches you.  Or
it might be the rest of your life.  That there are people out there
like this is the premise of Deprivers.  It seems like a neat concept.  Unfortunately, it isn’t well executed.

Continue reading “Deprivers by Steven-Elliot Altman”

The Rainforest by Alicia Steimberg, translated by Andrea G. Labinger “In a novel as fragmented and verdant as memory itself, Argentine author Steimberg (Call Me Magdalena) creates a troubled Argentine writer, a widow in her late 50s who seeks comfort and recovery at a convalescent spa in the lush Brazilian rain forest. In scraps of tortured writing, dreams and unbidden recollections, Cecilia examines her relationships with three men: her deceased second husband, Dardo; Federico, the violent drug-addicted son she has cut out of her life; and Steve, a biologist from Los Angeles with whom she falls in love. . . … Continue reading

THE LIVES "History is a grave and noble pageant," Landor said. His family life at Gherardesca proved impossible.In 1844 his daughter gave him Pomero, a dog. The pictures blacken in their frames, the tassels on the bedspreadFall. "He laughs like an ogre," Mrs. Browning said,Who did not relish him the way her husband did. Stuffed animals and birds, antiques of plaster gaveA tone to Boston.  Santayana, who had stomach troubleAs a youth, once shook the hand Of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  Professor NortonLingered on.  "No comfort, not a breath of love,"Wrote Nietzsche, going mad.  Booth Tarkington loved art. "Well, history is … Continue reading Weldon Kees

arvin V. Arnett’s memoir, Pieces from Life’s Crazy Quilt, is built of small pieces—vignettes from her childhood in 1930s Detroit. Yes, Marvin is a girl. She is also African American in a city where Negroes are relegated to the poor side of town and second class status. And she is a bright little pitcher with big ears, who can’t resist the human dramas playing out around her. The cast of characters include her magnificent parents, William and Grace, her older brother, and sister (who dies suddenly when Marvin is five), the congregation of the Church of the True Believers, her Aunt Bessie and Uncle Smitty, good Mrs. Eubanks who adores Franklin Roosevelt, and the small community of neighbors on her street.

Arnett makes me feel nostalgic for a world I’ve never known. It couldn’t be more different from my childhood growing up white in the desert of the atomic west in the 60s and 70s—and yet I recognize that precious sense of belonging. After adopting her life for several summer evenings in a row, I miss Marvin’s difficult, sometimes harrowing, but abundantly loving and decent childhood. Most of all I miss the decency.

Continue reading “More Decency, Please”