Patasola Press, 2011
173 pages
Rae Bryant’s first collection, The Indefinite State of Imaginary Morals, is so good it makes me angry. Firstly, because I’d never checked out any of her stuff before digitally stumbling upon this book. And more importantly, because her mastery of short stories and flash fiction makes my own half-baked efforts look like the work of a lazy neophyte who’s got years of training before he can hope to come close to crafting something even resembling Morals. Enough about me. Fractured human relationships lie at the core of most of the stories. A brief oil change from a technician named Jesus (pronounced Jeezus) puts a vicious dent into an already deep rift between a gracelessly aging husband and wife, a naïve country girl is almost seduced by her creepy cousin, dysfunctional anguish creeps into much of what artists perceive: “never leave an artist alone gazing into the face of death. The artist will likely fall in love.” Though the stories vary greatly in length (six words to several pages), and Bryant experiments with an impressive variety of narrative techniques, each possesses a pitch-perfect and gut-jabbing emotional weight, frank and disturbing, yet necessary eroticism, and a rousing postfeminist badassitude. The prose’s genius lies in the effortless way it condenses a fury of psychological heft – shockingly cold sexuality, a simultaneous need and revulsion for physical contact, a desire to emasculate and to remain subservient, a fierce confidence in identity – all in the course of a few carefully crafted phrases:
“Clothed, sitting, shoes back on, I turn to him before leaving. ‘Is this who I am? Plastic, smooth and pretty?’ And as I say it, my shame is there, but so is a wish for these shallow things. To be what is expected of me might make the days easier.”
Sandwiched between the stories are nine artworks by 19th-century erotic symbolist Gustav Klimt onto which Bryant has scribbled an array of sometimes caustic, sometimes dark and sardonically humorous musings. Though I didn’t find “Klimt Redux: A Study in Desecration” as enthralling as the fiction, I do think it provides a worthwhile visual component to themes rehashed throughout the book, and Bryant does a great job subverting what Klimt’s work represents to her – “Woman as appropriated through the eyes of a man’s brush” – and absorbing it into her wryly empowering ethos. This is certainly one of the best story collections I’ve read this year, and an equally impressive full-length debut from Bryant and the folks at Patasola Press. Check it out!
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