Fall Plunders + Small Wonders

Frozen Persimmons + Three Novellas

READ

Weird Fucks by Lynne Tillman
So Late in the Day by Claire Keegan
Cheri by Jo Ann Beard

Novellas: Are they having a moment? I feel like over the past few years they’ve been getting their due (or maybe I’m just paying attention more than I have in years prior). Regardless, I stan. I’m not a short story lover, but when I’m eager to read yet not feeling ready to dive into a full-fledged novel, I reach for a novella: What an art! I imagine it’s much like writing a short film: You have to whittle down everything – characters, storylines – to its essence. The result is like a finely honed knife. This week I’m recommending three novellas – all obviously written by women, all completely different in tone and spirit, all equally brilliant. If you’re feeling short on time, attention span or just need an escape, read on.

Weird Fucks by Lynne Tillman, pub. 1981
Buy: The Circle Bookshop or a used copy (it’s pretty tough to find this one outside of the UK, annoyingly)

I’d heard whispers about Weird Fucks for months, so when I stumbled upon it at The Broadway Bookshop in London, I couldn’t ignore the signs any longer! What a wild ride. Lynne Tillman is an icon: an essayist, cultural critic and author of multiple books over the years (she’s 76), she reminds me a bit of Vivian Gornick in her brashness and fierce femininity. Each chapter of this novella is a tale of … how to say it … a weird fuck the narrator (presumably Tillman in her younger years) experiences. From New York to Greece to London in the ‘60s and ‘70s, Tillman sweeps you through sexual, romantic and aromantic romps that are in turn dark, droll and piercing. Her prose is curt, direct and lacking emotion on its surface; she mentions a rape almost as an aside. Read further, though, and you begin to warm to her style and parse her sentences for feeling. Roiling emotions and power dynamics are at play. She’s in control, then not; in her sexual power, then demeaned. Clearly, she’s in her twenties. This one goes down easy but you’ll keep analyzing long after you’ve finished reading.

Cheri by Jo Ann Beard, pub. 2021
Buy: Used at World of Books (this one is also hard to find new in the US! Apologies!)

Immediately upon finishing Cheri, I texted my (amazingly talented) friend Stephanie Danler (yes, that one) a photo of the cover: “Literally cannot move after reading this. Have you read?” To which she responded: “No! But everyone loves Jo Ann!” I’m now a proud member of the ‘I love Jo Ann club,’ and you will be, too, after reading this mystical, surreal look into a dying woman’s last months. I wasn’t lying when I texted Stephanie; my body felt limp, my heart wrung out, after the last page – a combination of catharsis and a deep, wrenching grief. Cheri is the imagined story of a real woman Beard loosely knew who was diagnosed with breast cancer at a perilously young age. Divorced with two young daughters, Cheri faces surgery, chemo, fleeting recovery, another diagnosis and then a series of slow losses that end with her own life. Beard brilliantly inhabits Cheri’s character, building a rich inner world via a patchwork of mingled memories that span from Cheri’s childhood. The story is told in the third person but you spend a bulk of the novella inside Cheri’s head, observing as her thoughts dart from anguish to anger, brightness to defeat. You watch, helpless, as the sickness takes over; she no longer has any choice but to die. Unbelievably, Beard writes us through her death, and I found myself holding my breath long after I’d closed the book, as if I’d died, too. I cried for her, and for her daughters, and for anyone facing a prognosis that’s impossible to escape. Then I ordered everything else Jo Ann has ever written. 

So Late in the Day by Claire Keegan, pub. 2023
Buy: Pre-order at Bookshop.org (note: This version has two other novellas within; my copy seems only to be available in the UK, sadly. It’s worth grabbing a copy with the additional stories, though; I’m going to, too!)

We know Claire Keegan, we love Claire Keegan. Every single bookstore I stumbled into on my London trip showcased this tiny novella – a lithe 47-pager whose length belies its depth. It’s a love story gone wrong, about a man forced to take a hard look in the mirror at who he is and where he came from. In quick succession, that man, Cathal, meets and proposes to a woman named Sabine, then mistreats her, observes the relationship crumbling but doesn’t know how to stop it, and winds up back in the same lonely place he began: hurt yet defensive, coming close to looking inward yet too hardened by his socialized masculinity to relent. Keegan is unbelievably adept at writing men. She introduces Cathal by taking us through his day-to-day: his bus ride to work, conversations with his boss, a sad meal of cobbled together leftovers. Then she weaves in tiny, vignette-like interactions between the lovers that immediately draw into focus the nature of Sabine and Cathal, what pulls them together and sets them apart. As in Small Things Like These (and Foster, another must-read Keegan masterpiece), much lies beneath the surface; darkness bubbles up in fits and spurts and we begin to understand the lengths to which our histories have a tight grip on our nature and the choices we make in the present. 

EAT

Short and sweet, much like a novella: Procure a Hachiya persimmon — one that is so soft you feel you might burst it just by holding it. Freeze it for 24 hours, then defrost it for 2 hours on your countertop. While your persimmon defrosts, whip some heavy whipping cream with vanilla bean and crushed cardamom (alternately, you can serve with creme fraiche). Using a paring knife, slice off the top of the persimmon. Dollop an unhealthy amount of whipping cream onto a plate and plop the persimmon atop. Spoon out the innards (don’t eat the skin; it’s tannic and dry!), mix with the whipping cream and enjoy.