Even if you buy Shibboleth & other stories for the title story alone, you’ll be happy with your purchase. Jo Riccioni’s story eloquently illuminates the sticky cobwebs of past intimacies and how they catch at a young woman’s mind and emotions as she walks into them.
When Riccioni writes of the laughter that ‘hangs amorphous in the great lung of the hall’, I find myself in London at the Tate—except that this time I’m under the skin of Riccioni’s character, who is visiting the gallery with her ex. I’m there on the balcony grappling with the heft of Doris Salcedo’s enormous artwork Shibboleth.
It’s a fracture in the concrete floor—a ‘rupture’ in that ‘civilised space’ (as the character describes it)—that might have been caused by ‘an earthquake on the banks of the Thames’. In the story, of course, the crack is a metaphor for the clefts that can occur in relationships—but the skill of it, indeed the wonder of it, is that, despite its obviousness, the metaphor never feels milked or overcooked.
‘Shibboleth’ won the Margaret River Short Story Competition in 2016—and the anthology contains 24 stories shortlisted for the competition’s prizes. The story’s pitch-perfect opening sentence paves the way for what’s to come: ‘When they reach Millennium Bridge, they linger, adrift as tourists or first daters, negotiating the limbs of the afternoon.’
From there the narrative builds in a series of little aftershocks. The result is a moving vignette of how the past can muddy the present, and one that’s peppered with humour and fabulous dialogue, which means you’ll probably want to read it more than once.
The works in this anthology broach a plethora of themes, including death, deception, predation, dementia and people finding the courage and strength to carry on. While ‘Shibboleth’ was obviously the pick of the crop for me, seven other stories stood out, which I’ll nutshell here.
‘Slacklining’ by Catherine Moffat (NSW)
It’s not just because Catherine Moffat is my writing buddy that I love this story. It’s also the assured way she walks the wire. In this poised and moving suburban tale we encounter a young woman who’s been tipped off balance by a precarious household economy and dodgy waitressing job; a laissez faire partner and the couple’s locust-like friends; and some unexpected and nauseating news.
Here’s a quote:
The line seemed to move like it was alive, something animal. It reminded her of a wild dog with its head down and tail between its legs. Rose couldn’t tell if it meant her harm or not.
‘Fork in the Path’ by Julie Kearney (QLD)
Through the eyes of an accidental witness, Kearney shows us the menace of predatory behaviour and the lengths some people will go to keep their crimes secret. This is a clever piece.
Here’s a quote:
The crack of a twig startles him. He freezes, eyes darting to the spaces between the trees.
It’s beautiful, a young fawn. Half grown, he judges. All smooth pelt and thick-lashed eyes. A perfect study of arrested motion, one foreleg raised, prepared for flight.
‘Thirsty’ by Wes Lee (New Zealand)
Against the backdrop of a crumbling zoo, where stuffed animals now replace some of the dead ones, a dejected man ponders what is real. He also questions his own authenticity, and asks, ‘Is this the life I’ve always wanted?’
Here’s a quote:
He stared at her expressive dark eyes. Her skin, pale in a luminous way. He’d felt his enthusiasm, his over-eagerness and wondered if she saw it. What was it she’d seen, and what was going through her mind? The exaggerated smile on his face, as if he was shining, his whole body shining, ready to lift like a hot-air balloon.
‘Flight’ by Penny Gibson (NSW)
On his deathbed, a man—who was once an energetic explorer of the world and of ideas—is having flashbacks. And they include reliving the death of his daughter and admiring a lover’s breasts. Henry loves his wife but feels the urge to confess … Should he? Does he? This is an insightful and slightly unnerving story.
Here’s a quote:
These days he feels an aching sadness when he thinks of Paula, who has become his nurse and indeed for many years now has seemed more mother than wife. She has become old, she repeats herself like a parrot, she is garrulous. Sometimes he cries for the pity of it.
This is not what he wanted. This whimpering, helpless end is not him.
‘Photographs of the Missing’ by Michelle Wright (VIC)
Time slows down in this haunting story that features a troubled teenage boy who leaves home and wants nothing more to do with his family. His young cousin silently tracks him as she’s feeling her way into the world and its ethical dilemmas by way of her camera. ‘Photographs of the Missing’ also appears in Michelle Wright’s recently released debut collection Fine. The story lingers on some arresting visceral details, which drew me in to take a closer look.
Here’s a quote:
Two days later when I come by the house to see how Jacko’s going, the bugs have moved inside. On the wooden kitchen floor I step on them with my school shoes. Their bodies sound like popcorn when they’re squashed. On the table next to an empty place, bugs feed on crumbs from a chunk of stale bread. The cupboard doors are open and there’s nothing at all inside. I take a photo of the rolled-up edges of the contact paper on the shelves. It looks like tiny scrolls with tiny messages inside, waiting to be read.
‘Nightshift’ by Susan McCreery (NSW)
In this beautifully measured story, a woman wonders why she’s become so desensitised to her partner’s lack of consideration. She also loses a friend who’d had the courage to tell her some home truths. When her father visits it’s a gentle reminder of love’s possibilities. Does she have the strength to make the change that’s needed?
Here’s a quote:
I look at my father. Strange how the tiny muscles in the waking face inform character. In sleep, there’s a falling away, an absence. I imagine him dead. I put my palm to his nose and feel the soft expulsion of air. Maybe I’ll stay here a little longer. It’s the first time I’ve slept away from Steve—when he’s been home, that is.
‘Theo’ by Phil Sparrow (WA) —Sparrow’s story won The South West Prize sponsored by Edith Cowan University (Bunbury)
So a story that starts with a buffet worker letting his crown jewels swing freely in his waiter trousers has got to be funny right? Well no, actually. But it is the light relief we need before we are faced with the tender portrait of ageing and dementia that’s to come.
Here’s a quote:
‘It’s my teeth; when you get old, the space between them lets out the air, the song, it’s no good, you see. When I try to breathe the air gets lost.’
‘What—the air or the song’, I asked.
Theo didn’t reply.
Instead, he tried to whistle, a faint note quavering in the stillness of the ward. He tried to whistle again, but before he could make a noise, he had to stop to draw breath. In a soft shaking voice he spoke, words jumbled and weak, sentences left undone.
A well-shaped collection
In this well-shaped collection, editor Laurie Steed has nestled the diverse work of emerging and established writers comfortably together. He says that the 24 stories chosen for the anthology ‘uniformly took risks, presenting new scenarios, vulnerable protagonists, and a willingness to think outside of the box’. There’s also a thread of darkness running through them—so pace yourself in your reading or you could easily feel overwhelmed.
Margaret River Press is a small press that produces good-looking books and this one showcases a wealth of Australian talent. It should be pondered with relish.
Julie Koh will launch Shibboleth at Gleebooks, Sydney, on August 28, with readings by Jo Riccioni and Catherine Moffat.
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