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Nightwork

von Christine Schutt

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832326,217 (4.04)1
In this, her first collection of stories, Christine Schutt gives exquisite and provocative form to feelings and memories. Nightwork is a masterful dreamwork, revealing our lives with the startling clarity we long for. A young woman remembers, after a forbidden embrace, the exact quality of her father's skin, "pitted and stubbled under all that color." A girl recalls the strange kingdom that was her grandfather's estate, a place she came to inhabit only through betrayal. Romantic linkings are often unexpected: mother-son, father-daughter, mother-lover-daughter. In "What Have You Been Doing?" a mother teaches her son how to kiss. In "Dead Men," a woman finds herself unable to be touched by her new lover without experiencing intensely erotic recollections of the lover who is gone. The stories are sensually detailed and sometimes shocking. Hands, feet, breasts ... bodies are known, as they are known, mostly in bed. "Before the dead man, she had slept by herself with her hands to herself like a poultice." Here is an Everywoman, voiced from familiar enclosures: a house in the country, an apartment in town. The muted landscapes, too, are an Everyplace made of "wind and slashes of high blue sky in the heads of furious trees." Schutt's fearlessness, her passionate honesty, is the source for the language of these splendid stories -- night worlds, which may disturb our composure but enable us to dream while awake.… (mehr)
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In the story of our lives, nothing much happens but that we drive past the same town sometimes and remember.
Schutt���s prose shines here, and it���s something I tried to examine at some length in my review of her most recent novel Prosperous Friends, so I���ll point you there; in sum, though, Schutt���s use of poetic rhythm, discordant clauses, and lush, often archaic textures to sentences are the true focal point of her prose���the narrative is simply a boon.

In her collection Nightwork, Schutt���s stories center almost exclusively on the erotic lives of women and children, and also the ways in which violence, economics, and internalized gender expectations are interwoven in one���s relationships, be they with lovers or with siblings. ������Schutt���s prose is unflinching, and her subject matter is often oppressive: here we have, among other subjects, a woman being intimate with her father in the opening (and strongest) story in the collection; ���sisters��� fleeing from a seemingly misogynistic cult; a woman who plays at kissing with her son so that he will learn the art; daughters facing their mother���s mortality as they sift through all of the objects she has collected; and a lament for a teacher with whom one narrator has had an affair throughout both of their adult lives, a moving and disturbing story whose title is taken from Emily Dickinson���s poem ���Because I Could Not Stop for Death.���

A master craftsman and an impeccable, wholly original prose stylist, Schutt���s work demands to be read carefully for the luminous ways in which it renders textually the psychological and perverse cadences she tackles thematically.

4.5 stars ( )
  proustitute | Apr 2, 2023 |
"the dark sacs of his sex" just say balls! ( )
  uncleflannery | May 16, 2020 |
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In this, her first collection of stories, Christine Schutt gives exquisite and provocative form to feelings and memories. Nightwork is a masterful dreamwork, revealing our lives with the startling clarity we long for. A young woman remembers, after a forbidden embrace, the exact quality of her father's skin, "pitted and stubbled under all that color." A girl recalls the strange kingdom that was her grandfather's estate, a place she came to inhabit only through betrayal. Romantic linkings are often unexpected: mother-son, father-daughter, mother-lover-daughter. In "What Have You Been Doing?" a mother teaches her son how to kiss. In "Dead Men," a woman finds herself unable to be touched by her new lover without experiencing intensely erotic recollections of the lover who is gone. The stories are sensually detailed and sometimes shocking. Hands, feet, breasts ... bodies are known, as they are known, mostly in bed. "Before the dead man, she had slept by herself with her hands to herself like a poultice." Here is an Everywoman, voiced from familiar enclosures: a house in the country, an apartment in town. The muted landscapes, too, are an Everyplace made of "wind and slashes of high blue sky in the heads of furious trees." Schutt's fearlessness, her passionate honesty, is the source for the language of these splendid stories -- night worlds, which may disturb our composure but enable us to dream while awake.

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