John Gould (2) (1959–)

In his third collection of very short fiction, Giller Prize finalist (in 2003 for Kilter) John Gould turns his laser focus on death in its infinite variety. A whole book about death might seem intimidating, or, to some, simply depressing. But by approaching the subject from every conceivable angle and constructing his stories using a profusion of refreshing and startling perspectives, Gould keeps his reader guessing and slightly off balance throughout the volume. After a while, seduced by these moving, ironic, insightful, and cleverly subversive snapshot dramas, it’s easy to forget that you’re reading about death and dying at all. Indeed, in much the same way that the nature of the eventual demise that awaits all of us is impossible to predict, we never know quite what to expect from Gould’s stories. In “Sunday Morning” Theresa sends a birthday greeting on Facebook to her friend Simon only to discover by scrolling through posts further down on his page that he’s been dead for two years. In “Dreams of Love,” two sisters console each other in the wake of their brother’s death by invoking his mischievous spirit in the office of the funeral director. In “Stage,” a gay man mourning his husband’s death ruminates on the stages of grief, though he’s been assured by his psychologist that such stages don’t actually exist and that everyone grieves in their own way. And in “Skeletal,” a couple is bemused when their school-age daughter decides to do her science project on the “five stages of decomposition.” It is true that the shadow of death—what death means, the physical mechanism by which death occurs, what comes after—hovers over every page. But just as you can’t have order without chaos, or light without darkness, it turns out that you can’t contemplate death for very long without also giving some consideration to life. As strange as it might seem, The End of Me is a lively, humane, uplifting book, filled with compassion and written with deep affection for its characters. It’s a book that rewards repeated readings: you will find yourself dipping back in, trying to decide which of these 56 artfully crafted vignettes is your favourite. And, finally, it poses something of a conundrum: how is it possible for a book about death to have so much to say about being alive?… (mehr)

Let's start with a synopsis. Matt travels from Vancouver, where his marriage is quickly dying because his wife is cheating on him with the coffee shop girl, to Toronto, where his best friend has contracted AIDS and has decided to allow the disease to run its course uninhibited. Matt goes to save his friend, to convince him that life is worth living, that what he's doing isn't virtuous, as Zane seems to be claiming it is, and, if it is, well, virtue is vice.

By the way, Matt is a film critic. No, wait. a film kritik.

I picked up this book because of the author. I read Kilter: 55 Fictions by John Gould in university, in a contemporary Canadian literature course taught by my favourite professor. I enjoyed it well enough, enough that when I found this book at the library, I was a little excited to give his full length fiction a try.

It was well-written, and there are parts of this book that will stay with me. But this book was a slog. I wasn't excited to pull it out of my bag each morning and each afternoon on the subway. When I reached the middle of the book I was already writing a trashing review in my head. But, as I came out on the other side, at the last page, I discovered an appreciation for it, discovered, in fact, that I almost liked the affect it left behind.

Here was the problem: I didn't like Matt. Matt was pretentious. Matt was the kreative kritik, so above his own role, so entitled, that he didn't even identify himself as a critic. And, since I was being shown the world through Matt's eyes, everything in the book was covered in this slimy layer of pretension. His childhood, his relationships, his messed up marriage, his one-night stands, all of it, Gould seemed to be holding up in a way designed to deliberately push, to shock, maybe, as if to hold up this character as the epitome of art, as if to say, "This is the lifestyle of an artist."

Oh, artifice. I wonder if that's exactly what Gould was doing, building purposeful layers of artifice over Matt's character in order to pull them away. I didn't see it though: Matt never completely loses his pretentious character. But as the novel draws to a close, Gould seems to work in a few truly honest moments with Matt. Through other characters, Gould adds some new layers to Matt's character, layers that go beyond 'The Artist' and dig deeper into 'The Human, The Man, The Friend, The Son, The Lover'.

Is this book worth the read? Yes. It's set in Toronto, which I love, and the writing is strong. And, it covers all sorts of issues and themes - AIDS, homosexuality, infertility, morality, fidelity, home and coming home. But, be prepared to struggle with an unlikable character and some assumptions about what it means to be immersed in creativity. It's a book to be read carefully, critically, watching for nuance and artifice. It's not, maybe, a book to consume, but rather a book to pull you in to deeper engagement with words, life, death, and virtue.

(This book review also appeared on my blog on April 23, 2013.)… (mehr)

While I originally picked up this collection as just another short story collection, I was blown away by Gould's ability to convey powerful, micro stories that connect with the reader. I say micro stories because these are short, short stories. The majority of the stories are only 3 - 4 pages in length, with some a mere two pages long. His ability to capture the essence of the story so succinctly, and to provide each story with a unique voice made this collection a real treat for me to read. The topics are varied. One of my favorite stories is the suicide note the husband would have left for his wife if he had written one. Another is the conversation of a married couple in bed with the underlying meaning behind each sentence added for hilarious context. The characters of Gould's writing are people you might encounter on the street, at the check-out aisle or sitting in a doctor's office waiting room. Ordinary people having ordinary conversations and ordinary experiences. Under Gould's skillful prose, these ordinary lives become quite exceptional.

Overall, a fantastic collection of short stories that I highly recommend.… (mehr)