RHRC: You mentioned Bill Kittredge's advice to “Move to where your best friend is and write your damn book.” What advice do you give to aspiring writers? Is there anything you wish you had known, or done differently?
A: I think you have to love the writing, and have faith that someday there will be an agent and an editor who get what you're trying to do, and who want to work with you. But it always comes back to the blank page, to a new morning in front of the computer screen. After a series of jobs that were somewhat related to publishing, I finally started working at jobs that didn't use the same part of my brain as my writing. I knew it might take years to get published (and it did take years … ten years), so I wanted to enjoy myself in the meantime. I set up an office in my house, splurged on beautiful journals and a big bulletin board for mapping out story lines and tacking up stories from the New York Times that captured my interest. I tell students to take themselves, and their writing, seriously. I also read for hours every day. After years of trying to write for my professors or for my fellow students, I now aim to write a book that I want to read.
RHRC: How does your reading life affect your writing life?
A: The other morning I woke up at about three a.m. I lay awake in the dark and wondered what the point of all my reading was. In the time I've spent lying around with books, I could have become a pediatrician—or a rocket scientist. And it's not that I like to talk about what I've read: For the most part, my reading is completely selfish. I leave books half unread, and I was kicked out of my book club for never getting around to that month's pick. I don't keep up my virtual bookshelf, and I lost the little leather notebook that I bought to jot down what I'd read.
It's solitary, it's compulsive, it's expensive, and I tend to read a short story or novel and imagine that the fictional problems are my own, living half in Andre Dubus's character's sadness and half in my own life. But I can't stop. There are times that I think my reading and writing life are truer than my real life, the one I have to brush my teeth for.
Sometimes it's hard to look closely at the fragile beauty that surrounds me. I'm scared that looking too closely will mess everything up. So I read, to re-wire my brain, to expand my sense of what is possible. So that morning, at three a.m., I picked up a short-story collection and began to read. I was hoping to find solace, to find inspiration, to find my way back to sleep.
RHRC: How do you think writing—and reading—short stories is different from writing or reading a novel?
A: I guess if novels are like a long car ride, one in which you might see many glorious sights but might also run out of gas and be stuck in some strange town, short stories are like one perfect evening. There doesn't have to be a moment wasted: The moon is out, the wine is chilling, and the steaks are on the grill. A story can do anything—a gunshot can pop, a memory from long ago can alter a kiss, a cow can have a point of view. Of course, any of these events can occur in a novel, but they happen with baggage. If your main character gets shot, you have to write her through her ambulance ride and convalescence. Writing a short story, I feel freer. As a reader, a story's joys are manifold. I can read one before bed and still have time to mull it over before morning. When I begin reading a story, I never know if it will contain a lifetime (as many of Alice Munro's and Jhumpa Lahiri's stories do) or one defining moment.
I think there is a kind of magic in the books that come to a reader. A few years ago, when I was experimenting with what a short story could do, I happened to open the New Yorker and find “A Primer for the Punctuation of Heart Disease” by Jonathan Safran Foer. When I was learning to be sincere, I was humbled by Lorrie Moore's “People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk” and Jhumpa Lahiri's “A Temporary Matter.” Helen Simpson inspired me to write about parenthood. And last week, a friend handed me Ben Fountain's Brief Encounters with Che Guevara, which is, in a word, stunning, and has inspired me to try to write about my time in Africa.
RHRC: What are you working on now?
A: I'm working on a new novel. I'm still getting to know all the characters. There are two sisters with secrets from each other, there's a new mother drinking whiskey with an elderly woman. There's a murder, and a neighborhood trying to make sense of tragedy. I've been inspired by the recent work of Francine Prose, Ann Patchett, Jonathan Franzen, Roxanna Robinson, Wally Lamb, Stewart O'Nan, and Kate Atkinson.
Q: Would you share some of your favorite short story collections with us?
A: I would love to. Here are some of my favorites, in the order that I happened to read them.
The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald (I especially love “The Ice Palace.”)
The Watch by Rick Bass
Where I'm Calling From by Raymond Carver
The Collected Stories of Grace Paley
The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel (I never stop thinking about the friendship in “The Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried.”)
Rock Springs by Richard Ford
Our Story Begins by Tobias Wolff (My favorite stories are “Say Yes” and “Deep Kiss.”)
Mary and O'Neill by Justin Cronin
Selected Stories by Nadine Gordimer
A Distant Episode: The Selected Stories by Paul Bowles
CivilWarLand in Bad Decline by George Saunders (especially “Offloading for Mrs. Schwartz”)
Interesting Women by Andrea Lee (especially “The Birthday Present”)
Dusk and Other Stories by James Salter
Emerald City by Jennifer Egan
Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
A Stranger in this World by Kevin Canty
Birds of America by Lorrie Moore
Drown by Junot Díaz
Jesus' Son by Denis Johnson
How It Was for Me by Andrew Sean Greer (also “The Islanders,” which was published in the New Yorker and is so lovely I have to reread it every few months)
Remote Feed by David Gilbert
Sam the Cat and Other Stories by Matthew Klam
Carried Away: A Selection of Stories by Alice Munro (and later, “Deep Holes”)
We Don't Live Here Anymore by Andre Dubus (I can't stop thinking about “Finding a Girl in America,” the last novella.)
The Bridegroom by Ha Jin (especially “After Cowboy Chicken Came to Town”)
The Collected Stories of Richard Yates (especially “Oh Joseph, I'm So Tired”)
Among the Missing by Dan Chaon
Lucky Girls by Nell Freudenberger
A Relative Stranger by Charles Baxter
Getting a Life by Helen Simpson
Female Trouble by Antonya Nelson (and later, “Shauntrelle,” published in the New Yorker)
Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan
Brief Encounters with Che Guevara by Ben Fountain (especially “Rêve Haitien”)
Reading Group Questions and
Topics for Discussion
Though the book's title may seem romantic, it actually comes from a moment of extreme cynicism—a bartender telling Lola after her ex-boyfriend's wedding that “There are no love stories in this town.” Why do you think Ward chose this as the title for the collection? Did reading these stories make you see love stories in a different light?
If you have read Ward's novels, did you find the tone or perspective of any of these stories familiar? How would you describe Ward's writing style? Her characters?
Fertility and pregnancy play a big role in a number of these stories. How do the women in these stories approach motherhood? Is it different from how their husbands seem to be approaching fatherhood? Do you see these issues representing larger themes about identity, change, or relationships?
The realities of living in a post-9/11 world come up in several stories—in the narrator's obsession with Cipro in “Should I Be Scared,” in Lola's anxiety about living in Saudi Arabia in “Motherhood and Terrorism,” and in Casey's grief in “The Way the Sky Changed.” How much are these stories about a specific moment in history, and how much do t
hey speak to broader emotional issues?
Ward's stories take place in a variety of “towns”— in Texas, New York, Maine, Montana—and in San Francisco. How important is setting to the stories? What do you think they mean, in particular, to Lola, who lives in a number of quite different places?
Like Lola and Emmett, the narrator of “Should I Be Scared?” and her husband have different interests—his in science, hers in the humanities. How does the clash between science and imagination factor into each story? How do you think it shapes each of their relationships?
Lola Wilkerson is at the center of six of the collection's twelve stories. Why do you think Ward devotes so much of her collection to this character? What similarities do you see between the Lola stories and the preceding stories? What is different about these stories?
How do you think Lola's relationship with her father impacts her relationship with Iain, and later with Emmett?
Nan and Sissy are very different characters—and mothers. How do you see their personalities and parenting styles affecting their children? Do you think Lola is more similar to Nan, or is she influenced by both of them?
From the ceramic consultant in “Should I Be Scared?” to Kimberly's fashion design, from the Internet start-up in “Shakespeare.com” to Lola's dramatic career shift, work is a feature of many of these stories. How would you describe the role work plays in the female characters' lives? Is it different for the men?
From snappy comebacks to a strong sense of the absurd, humor appears in many of Ward's stories. How would you describe the way humor fits into her sensibility as a writer? What were some of your favorite funny lines or moments?
Do you have a favorite story in the collection? Which story did you find the saddest? The most surprising?
AMANDA EYRE WARD is a graduate of Williams College and the University of Montana. She is the author of the novels Sleep Toward Heaven, How to Be Lost, and Forgive Me. Amanda's short fiction has been published in Tin House, Zoetrope, Story Quarterly, and the New Delta Review. Amanda lives with her family in Austin, Texas.
ABOUT THE TYPE
This book was set in Granjon, a modern recutting of a typeface produced under the direction of George W. Jones, who based Granjon's design upon the letterforms of Claude Garamond (1480—1561). The name was given to the typeface as a tribute to the typographic designer Robert Granjon.
Love Stories in This Town is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2009 by Amanda Eyre Ward Reading group guide copyright © 2009 by Random House, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
RANDOM HOUSE READER'S CIRCLE & Design is a registered trademark of
Random House, Inc.
Stories from this collection have appeared, in slightly different form,
in the following publications:
“Should I Be Scared?” in Pindeldyboz; “Butte as in Beautiful” in the New Delta
Review; “The Stars Are Bright in Texas” in Zoetrope: All Story; “Shakespeare.com” in
StoryQuarterly; “The Way the Sky Changed” in Tin House and The Best of Tin House;
“Miss Montana's Wedding Day” in the Austin Chronicle; and “Motherhood and
Terrorism” in Politically Inspired.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51491-2
www.randomhousereaderscircle.com
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