The BOOKPRESS | September 1998 |
Drive
Dive Dance & Fight
For years now, expatriate American
writer Thomas E. Kennedy has been publishing short fiction in literary
journals across the United States and Europe. Drive, Dive, Dance, &
Fight is his second short story collection in a body of work that includes
stylish speculative fiction, critical studies of Andre Dubus and Robert
Coover, and The American Short Story Today. He has also edited collections
of Danish fiction and new Irish writing while serving as overseas editor
for the esteemed Cimarron Review. In spite of these accomplishments,
Kennedy's work is not as well known as it should be.
An alternative title for this, his
most recent book, might be Men on the Verge of a Mid-life Crisis.
Many of these stories are about men who find themselves in wrecked or fading
relationships, wondering about the choices they have made earlier in life.
The title character in "Bonner's
Women," the lead-off story, "has just entered what he thinks of as late
youth." His early youth is behind him, memorialized in knickknacks in his
childhood home. His mother, however, has forgotten everything, including
the death of her favorite son, Martin.
The ghost of another Irish expatriate
writer haunts this story. The weight of accumulated memories and the Christmas
holidays bring to mind "The Dead.'' At the end of the story, Bonner sits
by the window watching the snow fall while his wife sleeps, just as Gabriel
does in Joyce's masterpiece.
Kennedy's characters often pay homage
to their heroes, literary and otherwise. Or at least they try.
In "Kansas City,'' Johnny Fry flies
into San Francisco from Copenhagen on a mission: "To buy a book of poems
by Ferlinghetti. To meet Ferlinghetti. Ask him questions about all those
years ago when Fry lived his life by the creed of poets. See if Ferlinghetti's
thoughts of a gone time could help him understand what had happened to
his own life."
Fry, a product of the idealistic
anything-goes sixties, has found himself in middle-age, living in a gray
area. His marriage has failed. As an expatriate in Denmark, he is between
countries, between relationships. He ultimately succeeds in meeting his
idol, but the encounter, as all such encounters inevitably are, proves
disappointing.
B, the low level Ministry of Foreign
Affairs official in "The Severed Garden," has no chance of meeting his
hero, Jim Morrison, because he's already dead. Still, B continues to look
to Morrison (J in this story) for spiritual guidance. According to B, Morrison
"seized his youth, went down in flame, knew or sensed in advance the consequences
of survival." For B, those consequences are alienation from a family that
he doesn't understand and disillusionment with so-called civilization and
the rules of diplomacy: "The political dreamers of the sixties did not
know what they were talking about. Only people like J knew - personal liberation,
transcendence of perception, the augmentation of the instant, now.
Mao was a fraud." Like Johnny Fry, B has a mission to connect, somehow,
with his idol, but a cold stone bust of J does not yield the answers he'd
hoped for.
Kennedy presents us with people struggling
to make sense of their lives and, sometimes, the lives of others. In "The
Burning Room,'' a counselor attempts to win the trust of a torture victim
and to understand his dilemma: In explaining his preoccupation with another
man's life, he says, "Humankind is a mystery; even if a man spends his
entire life trying to solve that mystery and fails, he will not have wasted
his time."
These could be the words of the writer,
as he explores the life of a divorced pathologist in "A Clean Knife" or
that of a woman suffering from a bizarre fear in "Dust.'' There are no
clear-cut answers, no easy ways out, but there is often beauty and sometimes
triumph.
The title story is about Twomey,
a man down on his luck, who seeks to overcome his fears. He makes a list
of the things he'd always wanted to accomplish drive, dive, dance, and
fight, and sets out to achieve his goals. Funny, sad, scary, and deeply
moving, this is also a story of hope.
Thomas E. Kennedy knows about a lot
of things - martinis, Danish witches, death rot, dust - and it is these
details that make his stories so vivid and, at times, delightfully quirky.
He is well aware of the absurdities of modern American life, his perspective
enhanced, perhaps, by his distance as an expatriate. He is also deeply
sensitive to the struggles of ordinary lives.
The final story, "Landing Zone X-ray,"
concerns a middle-aged man remembering the arrest of his friend who had
been A.W.O.L. and hiding out in his apartment during the war in Vietnam.
Although the war was a turbulent time in this man's life and in the history
of the United States, he feels no regret: "This is my story, the story
of my time.. . All the dead men and all the women will turn their hollow
gazes toward us then, and I do not think we will wish that we had done
more or less or something else." Here is a man at peace, no longer searching
tor answers, but accepting of his life. These eight stories resound with
hard-earned wisdom and deserve to be widely read. Far away in Denmark,
Kennedy has been producing some of the best American fiction of our age.
Suzanne Kamata lives in
Japan, where she edits and publishes the English-language literary magazine
Yomimono. She also recently edited the anthology The Broken
Bridge: Fiction from Expatriates in Literary Japan.
Thomas E. Kennedy.
BkMk Press, 1997.
152 pages, paper, $14.95.
Return to Front Page |