Ether: Seven Stories and a Novella

By Evgenia Citkowitz
Farrar, Straus and Giroux

While opening Evgenia Citkowitz’ collection of short stories, the spine creaked in an eerie way far too appropriate for the haunting words among the pages between. In Ether, a collection of seven stories and a novella, Citkowitz captures our attention with seemingly stark characters whose depth is revealed in the strange ways they relate to the world.

Tables, nannies, and even pet hamsters become the vehicles through which characters experience stark realizations about their lives and their positions within them. Citkowitz’ efforts to draw out nuances are visible, but often the nuances struggle to have impact. Entering into a short story with little ground available to paint such rich snapshots of a life often leaves the reader feeling rushed, or worse, at the end of the tale, empty.

The subjects her characters examine—an overwhelming loneliness and sense of questioning—are ones that we may easily identify with as readers, but the stories leave answers either unreachable, or sadly negative. Leaving a family, resolving to accept unwanted circumstances, or worse, having a realization that things are unhappy and unsatisfied, but having nowhere to turn is what the author makes her characters face. The circumstances are realistic—many of us, just like her characters, finally find the answer to our questions. But in this volume, often the answer is most unsatisfactory, and these outcomes leave the reader wounded.

The writing in Citkowitz’ debut book is layered and complex. Readers enter each story seemingly mid scene and are left with a feeling of catching up. Multiple characters and voices layer into the work immediately and though the action may not be fast paced, the reader must stutter step to get on board with the character and identify the lead immediately. This unique exercise does draw a reader in quickly and makes our feelings for them more elaborate; you read shoulder-to-shoulder with the character’s past and present and with their quests for identity or direction; this is a powerful strategy on the author’s part.

Ether isn’t light reading, but is an exercise in elaborate storytelling over a theme. At times, it works too hard and it can often be uninspiring, but the stories’ unique haunting qualities do set them apart.

Review by Dr. Julie E. Ferris

Absinthe Junk - Living Ghosts

Slotted Spoon Records

Attention all ye steampunk aficionados, Absinthe Junk accomplishes what their name implies—they’re a fitting band for your gears, gadgets, corsets, and metal-worked jewelry! Their press album, Living Ghosts presents an adequate sampling of their haunting metal sound.

A time-tested combination of steely guitars and an ethereal lead female voice place the band solidly within a genre recognized by metal, rockers, and goth fans alike. The difference, however, is that Blair, the lead singer, dabbles in more than a soft-to-screaming vocal. She has a well-supported range and doesn’t mimic an Evanescence sound. Listeners should appreciate this unique take on the genre and this original entry into the field.

Though the band claims many exotic textures layered within their sound, it is worth noting that the primary layer is metal guitar. Keyboard echoes are the next most recognizable supporting sound, but few tunes deviate as readily from a more traditional metal sound as the band purports. To their credit, the band has a few riffs and turns of musical phrase that remind a listener of Abney Park—a more recognized sound in the steampunk/goth genre. Building on the successful sound of this band isn’t mimicry as much as a gesture that places Absinthe Junk solidly in this genre.

The most commercial song on the album is “Dragonflies in Hurricanes” and it’s also the most off-genre. Displaying a haunting country sound, the Nashville-based band weaves a tale of the end of life, a love, a relationship—or all of it—with a more complete sound than the other songs. Blair’s lead vocals are eerily reminiscent of Natalie Merchant and the band’s support rounds out the song in a very recognizable way. Notably, the song feels very different than the rest of the album—which is quite good in its own right—but it is quite powerful.

Review by Dr. Julie E. Ferris

Sarah McLachlan - Laws Of Illusion

Arista



July 22, 1997 in Mansfield, Massachusetts (at what was then known as Great Woods), I had the pleasure of seeing an amazing group of women perform. Over the whir of blenders and drenched in Frappuccino, I got to hear bits and pieces of the likes of Tracy Chapman, Suzanne Vega, and Sarah McLachlan. But, of course, I was already a fan. I was lucky enough to have been at that first Lilith Fair tour and now, thirteen years later, I hope to be going again. Only this time I won't be wearing a green Starbucks apron.

It's been a while since Sarah McLachlan has released an album and Laws Of Illusion is worth the seven-year wait. Even Mr. Z (who makes fun of me for listening to what he deems "women's music") is a fan and we've been arguing about who gets to take the CD in the car to listen to. This is one of those albums that never makes you hit the "Skip" button on your CD player. Each and every track is wonderful. However, I particularly love "Loving You Is Easy," and can see that it's destined to be one of those classic Sarah McLachlan tunes that will stand the test of time.

If you're a longtime Sarah McLachlan fan, you probably ran out already and bought Laws Of Illusion. If you're new to her hauntingly beautiful voice, what are you waiting for?

Review by Zippy

Cross-posted at The Review Broads

Arc and Hue

By Tara Betts
Willow Books

It is deeply satisfying to encounter poetry like Tara Betts’. The widely published poet, author, and Rutgers University creative writing professor bears witness to the true grit of life, including poverty and appearance-based assumptions and experiences that categorize one as other, even among an already marginalized population. These experiences, and the enduring human spirit, are what give color and shape to each life, and it is this thematic material that Betts portrays in her debut collection, Arc & Hue.

Rich in vivid images and musicality, this collection is an authentic portal into the very pulse of life. With the use of repetitive forms like sestina and canzone and the smooth lyrical flow of her free verse, Betts’ poems are imbued with hope, strength, and beauty amid trauma, violence, and the isolation of otherness.

From the weight of death and violence to the vibrancy of moments both ordinary and momentous (lynching, hair care, Hurricane Katrina, lovemaking, pestilence in the slums), each poem is consistently resonant and haunting. Betts can be humorous and playful with form, yet still communicate something substantial, as she demonstrates in “A Survey on Enjoying Verse” and “Neruda’s Email to Slam Poets.” The anxiety and desire of an urban pulse throbs in the strong, sensual language of “Block Party Speculation” and the grief of domestic violence and miscarriage are washed with the power of loving someone new when the narrator stands in the shower with both loss and renewal in “When I First Listened to Billie.”

Arc & Hue crossing my path further fuels my hope that one can indeed maintain awareness of and connection to the world beyond ourselves through the work of poets and artists. A visit to the writer’s blog clued me in to her extensive publishing history—from erotica to live theater to an upcoming young adult novel and a second collection of poetry. Betts is also active in literacy and girls’ empowerment projects, and she has performed her work around the world.

Review by Matsya Siosal

The Lotus Eaters

By Tatjana Soli
St. Martin's Press

When I read a book that keeps me enthralled to the final page, that is so absorbing I have to tear myself away from it, I find myself amazed (and envious) that anyone can be so gifted. That’s how I felt after reading The Lotus Eaters.

Having attended my share of writing seminars, I realize you can’t really soar as a writer until you have truly mastered the craft; however, some writers seem to have talent that defies reason. A few paragraphs into this novel, I realized Tatjana Soli's powerful prose would haunt me.

I rarely read war novels, but the plot of this one intrigued me. The main protagonist is Helen Adams, a young American photojournalist covering the Vietnam War, and in Helen, Soli created a character that is complex, courageous, and real—yet flawed at the same time. Both Helen’s father and brother were in the military, and her brother lost his life in a Special Forces operation in Vietnam. Helen always felt excluded by the camaraderie between her father and brother, and she is plagued by the sense of having something to prove. This lingering demon has driven her to being in the midst of this historic point and place in time, and Helen is willing to risk almost anything to get a defining, iconic photo. Many of the characters in this novel are addicted to war, like a drug that must repeatedly enter their bloodstream.

Within hours of arriving in Vietnam, Helen meets Sam, a legendary war photographer, and Linh, a Vietnamese photographer and translator. Sam becomes a mentor and guide to Helen, who quickly learns that women are not welcome in the macho world of war. Linh helps her to navigate the murky landscape of a dangerous country that is shifting on a regular basis. Helen's human interest assignments also shift as her willingness to take risks proves her mettle as a serious photojournalist.

She had proved to herself what she hadn’t known before; that under the right circumstances she could be brave. An unknown gift, strange and random, like the ability to play an instrument or be good at a sport.

Soli's prose is gripping, moving, and unflinchingly places you in the middle of the action. I had to stop reading from time to time because the story affected me in a way that was hard to shake off. Told through the multiple viewpoints of Helen, Sam and Linh, we get a 360-degree view of the nightmare that is war and the bond these individuals developed with each other.

I was deflated and relieved when I turned the final page of The Lotus Eaters. It was unlike any other book I’ve read recently: beautiful and somewhat unsettling. If you want to know how to write a great novel, ask Tatjana Solis.

Review by Gita Tewari