Book Review: The Innocent Party by Aimee Parkison
BOA Editions, Ltd., 2012.
Short Story Collection.
Reviewed by Debrah Lechner
The work in this volume by Aimee
Parkison could be classified as imaginative realism, and while one of the
pleasures of her writing is that it transcends categorization, these stories overwhelmingly
do justice to that categorization, perhaps even elevate it.
The piece "Locked Doors" was
satisfying to read, and exemplifies many of the stories in this collection. This
particular story is organized in sections of doors: bedroom doors, car doors,
and breakdown doors and doors of the imagination. This enhances the lyricism
that Parkinson is so adept at utilizing.
At the same time, this story also
incorporates a familiar narrative form, told from the point of view of a boy
whose sister Gale shatters into three, and this story line is irresistible. His
sister’s other two names are Ruby Canyon and Marilynn Glass, and each of them
has just the right mix of reality and unreality to make their characters
unforgettable.
But perhaps the piece most brilliant
is a mere two pages long, "Murder on the Pasture." I must have read this
two dozen times, so that the spine of the book, though not yet broken at that
place, is inclined to open at page fifty-five.
This piece appears to be set in the
Oklahoma dust bowl, and be a monologue by the ghost of a 17-year-old girl, but
oh, that description is quite inadequate and almost irrelevant: though I spent
a couple read-throughs attempting to determine just who was talking to me
(because the narrator addresses the
reader) by the third time through it was obvious that who I was listening to
was mostly up to me.
It was not an entirely new
experience to become part of a writer’s process of creation as a reader, but
this was one of the few times I felt it was entirely successful.
"Murder on the Pasture" quietly
bypasses the very significant perils of reminding the reader that they
themselves exist by simply beginning with a short description of the pasture,
and then laying down the rules:
“Touch
the door to my old house and you’re in this, too.”
And you know you want to touch that door, open it, so you’re
in this. The turmoil you’re going to experience begins immediately with the
next short, arresting sentence:
“Red
paint peels like skin.”
Hallelujah. When five words can have
that kind of effect on me, it renews my faith in writing.
Parkinson’s prose flows with a
subtle, musical rhythm that only prose can achieve, and then rarely. It is such a gift, and she never
uses it more powerfully than in "Murder on the Pasture." Every sentence, every sentence, is exquisite.
Aimee Parkinson has received a
Christopher Isher Fellowship, a Kurt Vonnegut Fiction Prize, other awards, and
has been published in numerous journals. She can also write. Boy, can she
write.
I am inclined, for the first time,
to quote a blurb on the back of the book:.
“These stories are like running a finger around a seemingly
smooth edge of glass―you don’t know you’ve been cut until you bleed.”
―Cris Mazza
I wish I had said that.
Do yourself a favor and read this
book.