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Summary
Summary
"[A] remarkable collection . . . Bold and addictive, Going Away Shoes is a find." -- People
The foibles of the people in Jill McCorkle's world are so familiar that we want nothing so much as to watch them walk into--and then get out of--life's inevitable traps. Here, in her first collection in eight years, McCorkle collects eleven brand-new stories bristling with her characteristic combination of wit and weight.
In honeymoon shoes, mud-covered hunting boots, or glass slippers, all of the women in these stories march to a place of new awareness, in one way or another, transforming their lives. They make mistakes, but they don't waste time hiding behind them. They move on. They are strong. And they're funny, even when they are sad.
These stories are the work of a great storyteller who knows exactly how--and why--to pair pain with laughter.
Reviews (5)
Publisher's Weekly Review
A lack of narrative distance and interchangeable protagonists sink McCorkle's latest short story collection. The constant barbs aimed at the siblings and the cold-hearted, overmedicated mothers of the parade of ubiquitously decent and forlorn heroines in "Another Dimension," "Going Away Shoes" and "Happy Accidents" reveal little about either the abusers or the so-called victims. Most of McCorkle's analogies and insights into human nature come from television shows and feel one note, such as when a character in "Another Dimension" owns Manolos in order to be like Sarah Jessica Parker. Too many of the protagonists are motivated by identical feelings of self-pitying vindictiveness. There is Ann in "Another Dimension," whose relationship has soured with her abusive and manipulative brother, Jimmy, as well as Debby in "Going Away Shoes," who sacrificed her career to care for a dying mother and spoiled siblings. McCorkle (Creatures of Habit) does manage a few heartfelt descriptions, but the pervasive venom too soon becomes toxic. (Sept.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Kirkus Review
Another fine collection from short-fiction master McCorkle (Creatures of Habit, 2001, etc.), in a very dark mood indeed. The title story sets the tone, limning the constricted life of a woman who stays home with her dying mother while her selfish married sisters patronize her as they always have. Debby was the unusual one who "dated people of different colors" and wore white shoes after Labor Day; now she's trapped by her own niceness and can only dream, "Pack a bag. Pull the plug. Take your turn." Death is a frequent visitor here. The sexy, can't-pin-him-down boyfriend in "Driving to the Moon" lost his parents in a plane crash at 17 and flits in and out of the narrator's life after high school, phoning whenever there's an air disaster. The living cling to the dead in "Another Dimension," the saddest piece. After their mother dies, 11-year-old Jimmy and eight-year-old Ann sabotage their father's happiness with a kind waitress; Jimmy can't tolerate her low-class ways, and Ann goes along, even though she's drawn to the woman's warmth. In the framing narrative, we see the adult siblings unable to sustain loving relationships, while the spurned waitress is a contented grandmother. Only the ultrasarcastic "PS," a woman's post-divorce letter to the marriage counselor who didn't help, provides a welcome dose of McCorkle's tart humor, and it's extra tart here. ("I suspect being bored and having your mind wander during marriage counseling is not a good sign.") "Magic Words" is downright scary, as a woman heading toward a first-time adulterous tryst is stymied by a girl fleeing her gang's spookily angry "leader," who is terrorizing their retired math teacher. The lone tender note is struck in "Intervention," about a woman comforting her alcoholic husband because he forgave her an affair and her own drunkenness. The author's trademark giftsvivid, economical characterizations, distinctive voices, fierce intelligenceare evident on every page. Now let's hope she cheers up a little next time. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
McCorkle's name is synonymous with smart, funny, and perceptive fiction about the disappointments and comforts of ordinary life. In her new set of perfectly crafted, emotionally intricate, and welcoming short stories, McCorkle considers moral quandaries, and how people fumble their way into doing the right thing. The title story, a quietly searing tale of sacrifice and conscience, makes clever use of archetypal figures from Cinderella to Sisyphus as one daughter cares for her gravely ill, unloving mother, while her two hypocritical sisters go about their showy lives. An unsought family burden also shapes Surrender, a beautiful story of a woman mourning her son's unexpected death, and struggling to care for his demonic daughter. In Midnight Clear, McCorkle performs a giddy and affecting variation on holiday redemption, with a septic system repairman playing angel. A crazy quilt serves as a metaphor for making the most of life; a poisonous letter to a marriage counselor codifies good reasons for divorce. McCorkle's sharp humor is matched by moral acuity, and her down-to-earth sensibility is paired with a sense of higher powers.--Seaman, Donna Copyright 2009 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
McCorkle specializes in righteous female rage, and in her new story collection she lets it fly on behalf of unremarkable, put-upon women, the kind who swallow their ambivalence and pride as they hold it together in featureless Southern suburbs. There's Debby of the title story, who plays out "a mythical stereotype" by being unmarried and tending to her dying mother as her vain sisters take advantage of her. There's Hannah of "PS," who writes a long, hilarious letter to the male counselor who charged her "200 bucks a pop" to try to repair her doomed marriage to a husband who "likes talking to men better than he likes dealing with women." Then there's the narrator of "Me and Big Foot," who, tired of friends' attempts to pair her off, creates an imaginary lover ("He is me only big and hairy and forceful in every way"). There's nothing pathetic about this - the fantasy man becomes genuinely satisfying, and the story is oddly touching. If these heroines' humdrum lives don't improve on the surface, they can be imaginatively transformed, as in Debby's decision to become "the cobbler of her own heart." McCorkle is an expert at engineering catharsis through good salty rants, but the best thing about these stories is the sense of romance and wonder in long-overdue journeys of self-discovery. What limits the collection are one-dimensional villains who become mere objects of outrage, not fully considered characters. The moral universe here can be too close to the TV shows McCorkle's women know they shouldn't watch so much, but do anyway.
Library Journal Review
Here is another bright, sassy, funny, and sad collection of stories from North Carolinean McCorkle, the author of three other collections as well as five novels (e.g., The Cheerleader). Like the title story, in which a woman is trapped as caretaker to her critical but now diminished mother while her married sisters just visit, these works delineate the lives of women as they seek out love and meaning, blundering through their own mistakes. Whether struggling with the reality of the men they have chosen or imagining the perfect guy, the women in these stories, whether married, divorced, or single, are real, familiar, and searching. Verdict This collection by a contemporary master of short fiction should be considered by all fiction readers.-Ann H. Fisher, Radford P.L., VA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
