Customer Reviews

The Fires

5 star:		(5)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

The Fires by Alan Cheuse of NPR Radio fame is an intense reading experience comprised of two novellas in which people set fire to something precious. The stories have elements in common- love and memories, misery and grief, loss and transformation- but the characters are very different.

These stories are extremely well crafted and excellently told. I would love to hear them in Cheuse's smooth radio voice. They are compelling, tragic, yet funny at times. I enjoyed the symbolism of fire and words like sacrifice, destruction, purification kept coming to mind while I was reading.

Our small book club found an enormous amount to talk about in these two tight little novellas. Alan Cheuse is brilliant at using the eyes of his characters to see the world and their voices to give life to their stories. They were two odd and uncomfortable journeys : A middle-aged American woman winds up at a mourner at a Hindu cremation ceremony in Uzbekhistan; An electrical engineer helps his daughter grieve for her mother, a jazz singer who died of a heroin over-dose. We were left feeling the psychic jet lag, spiritual hangovers and savoring the impossibly rich aftertastes of these roundabouts. I'd read more of his work without hesitation.

At the first book reading of the Fires, Cheuse said in response to a member of the audience that he always wanted to try his hand at writing a novella, and these two stories provided him with the right material. And lucky for us to witness the unfolding of human drama at the breadth and depth of a masterpiece in such short spaces. A little grayer and more relaxed than the days of the Grandmothers' Club, and The Bohemians, his envy-invoking prose (if you fancy yourself a writer) and absorbing details of foreign travel (if you're not) can't help but draw you in headfirst. Interior monologues are especially a joy to read, and there are a few of those sprinkled throughout.

For those who are looking for life lessons, especially those looking for the right words to cope with the death of a beloved I recommend a second reading of the first story, The Fires. And maybe a second reading of the second novella, The Exorcism, to those who feel unable to hold on to the strands of their lives slipping through their fingers. Cheuse is a trustworthy companion and an endless source of inspiration.

The Fires is a collection of two novellas, each concerning love and loss. In the first story, "The Fires", Gina Morgan travels to a former Soviet republic to retrieve the body of her husband who has been killed. In the second, "Exorcism", an unnamed narrator must deal with his own grief, and that of his daughter, after the death of his ex-wife.

The two novellas were strikingly different - the first was pure intensity from the opening sentence; the second used humor throughout the story to lighten the mood. Both dealt with the death of a spouse, but in the first the couple was still very much in love, and in the second they had moved past each other. But the novellas were linked with one common factor - fire, which played a role in each story.

Cheuse has a talent for engaging the reader immediately in the narrative. Neither of these stories is long - around 60 pages each - but he packs an immense amount of emotion into those few pages. Even though he is writing about grief, both stories leave the reader with a feeling of hope when the last page has turned. I have enjoyed Cheuse on NPR for some time, and now look forward to reading more of his work in print as well.

Cheuse's decision to write two novellas is a bold choice, considering novellas aren't very popular these days, but those he includes in The Fires couldn't be rendered in any other way. They are huge and sweeping interior dramas, which presents a problem: there's not enough physical action in either story to warrant a novel, but the emotions Cheuse grapples with in novellas "The Fires" and "The Exorcism" are so complex and subtle that there's no way he could mine them to any great depth in a short story.

Cheuse writes with incredible veracity when portraying Gina Morgan, the protagonist of the first novella, and all of the author's meticulous research is on the page, drawing the reader in by conveying Gina's interior battles when she learns her husband's dead. It's a measure of the magic great writers work when we read their prose and think, "Only someone who's been through a similar catastrophe could get it so right on the page." I'm not sure if Cheuse has been through the kind of emotional lashing Gina Morgan experiences, but it doesn't really matter, because we believe her agony. Cheuse vaults off into existential orbit with some passages of lyrical prose that bring us into rhythm with Gina's metamorphosis.

The second of the two novellas, "The Exorcism", is a somewhat more up-beat story that starts, albeit, on the down-beat of the narrator's ex-wife dying of a drug overdose and his daughter setting a piano on fire. The narrator drives to pick up his daughter from the college from which she's been suspended, and on the ensuing drive home down I-95, as she sleeps, the narrator copes by way of retrospection about a marriage and a fatherhood spun achingly awry.

The narrator's voice, while communicating fatigue and despair, is at times surprisingly funny and always wise. Elemental fire pervades the two novellas, becoming a force in the face of which the characters must either change or be consumed.

The more I think about them, these novellas strike me to be a marvelous sort of literary ying and yang especially in the carefully drawn fugues of madness that beset the characters on both foreign and domestic soil. In The Fires Cheuse captures the feverish momentum of a solitary traveler in strange, far-flung location; in The Exorcism it's more the dislocation of family members who are dealing with the aftermath of an accidental death. Indeed, both stories seem to be hinged on the deaths of characters who hold in thrall all the people around them. And again, the blend of exotic and domestic: the appropriate fire in the Hindu temple; the inappropriate fire on a college campus. And the subtly drawn culture clash in both, the misunderstandings and mishaps due to an inability to communicate.

The best fiction to me always manages to present an image that burns an indelible hole in my memory. It disturbs me because it inexplicably suggests volumes, not only about the world the author has created but also perfectly conveys the writing's complex emotional terrain. This actually happens twice in these novellas. The first time it happens is when Paul's automobile has broken down and he sees the woman dragging a bundle on a triangular cart that turns out to be a loony child with a pointed cap. The second time it happens is when Swanson and Ceely are driving back to D.C. and they suddenly see a pack of dogs skittering in between the cars. These are both stunning descriptions; and their éclat makes both these fictions remarkably luminous.

Absolutely top notch work (not like you'd expect anything different from Alan, really). This is a perfect way to pass a weekend with a book. Gripping but... funny! Wow.

I purchased a copy of The Fires after hearing an interview with the author on NPR, where he is a regular reviewer. I don't buy a lot of books (having bought too many in my earlier life, I now rely on the library and book exchanges with friends). I am disappointed really. In The Fires, I did not find his protagonist at all sympathetic. There is something stilted about the presentation of character. The writer kept imposing himself between the character and reader, and she just did not feel real. Sorry.

The Exorcism, too, disappointed. Mr. Cheuse takes too many shortcuts by way of stream-of-consciousness imagined conversations that never actually took place. I would tell my students to do the work; let the characters have the conversations. There were two passages that were very alive for me, though. The scene where the pack of dogs run loose on I95 was extremely brief but gripping, as I could imagine it happening and would not believe they could disappear with no ill-effects. But as Mr. Cheuse explained in his NPR interview, it is an event he took from real life. That may be why it rings so true. I was also taken by the scene of the "healing" toward the end of the piece. Erna seemed unlikely, a healer who smokes....but plausible I guess. It is the sheer hope that we can be cleansed of a lifetime of hurt and damage that is appealing, and the scene came off as plausible. The rest of the novella is filled with extraneous detail and explanation that does NOT really enlighten. I suppose he can't help trashing the "trash fiction" by Clancy, etc., but he exposed himself as a literary critic and jumped out at the reader. A brief mention of Tom Swanson's listening to those poor choices of books on tape would have held up. He overdid and lost me right there. I stayed with the rest of the novella because it was a Saturday night, I was on my comfortable reading couch, in front of a fire with a brandy, blanket, and no other books handy enough to reach without having to undo my nest. See? Aren't you bored with my details? That's how this novella hit me.

I suspect the other readers here on Amazon who gave it five stars are famiy, friend or colleague.

In Alan Cheuse's "The Fires," as in O'nan's "Last Night at the Lobster" a skilled writer reminds us why the novella can be such a satisfying read. Taking two stories that, in the hands of a lesser craftsman would have surely sprawled into a long, pedestrian novel, Cheuse instead edits to the bone, distilling the emotions of his characters, in a pair of riveting narratives. While each story is quite different, though they are linked by the key title image of fire, both prove worthwhile.

First we have the title story, "The Fires," about a wife learning of her husband's unexpected death in central Asia and traveling to arrange for his cremation, a challenge in a predominantly Muslim nation. Cheuse shows the full range of his skills with this story, moving from raw emotion to bewilderment to humor, all the while keeping his reader at once captivated and off balance, the same condition as his protagonist. The prose here comes taut and occasionally brutal, such as in the author's description of the wife receiving the phone call early in the story informing her of her husband's death.

"And then it came to her, and as if this Kirov, or some other man, an intruder bent on wounding her, pounding away at her, raping her, killing her, had smashed in the door and pushed her down beneath it, she felt all the air leaver her lungs and she staggered back onto the bed, feeling the dampness between her legs, the legacy of comedy, but the comedy had ended."

Yet at the same time, Cheuse shows his protagonist profound sympathy, even in the face of such grievous loss.

The second story, while perhaps not as tight as the first, is likewise powerful. Moving from the third person narrative of "The Fires" in "The Exorcism" we are presented with a troubled man, a veteran of several marriages, who must retrieve his troubled daughter from her college after the girl sets fire to a piano. Here Cheuse attempts one of a writer's greatest challenges, trying to narrate in the voice of a non-literate character self described as "not a poet." On occasion the narrative, however, does rise to near poetry, Cheuse's voice slipping through his narrator's lips. Yet despite this, slight drawback, "The Exorcism" simmers with a dark, Chekov-like humor, as the protagonist in picking up his daughter begins to retrieve parts of himself too long lost.

Readers searching for satisfaction will not leave either of these fine novellas disappointed, indeed, you may find yourself unable to put them down.