In the hilarious LUCKY JIM, Kingsley Amis comes close to the perfect description of a hangover. "A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse... His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he'd somehow been on a secret cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad."
I reference Amis because Charles Baxter adds meaningfully to the literature of intoxication in two stories in the excellent GRYPHON: NEW AND SELECTED STORIES. In particular, "Winter Journey" shows the sozzled Harrelson, a perpetual Ph.D. student, driving in a night-time snowstorm to pick up his weather-marooned fiancé. "He is seeing two of everything: two sets of streetlights, two streets, two steering wheels, two dashboards. And two red lights, both of which he now runs, unable and unwilling to stop the car before entering the intersection. With scholarly interest he observes that he has missed hitting a blue parked car by perhaps two or three feet. For the first time he understands that it might be a moral offense against God and man to be out driving in a snowstorm, drunk. But it is more of an offense before women to be a nerd, a coward, a man who will not help. He accelerates."
Meanwhile, "The Old Murderer" presents Ellickson, who has been sober for "forty-three and a half days, but he still had the shakes. Just filling the coffeepot required maximum concentration... Everything, even the drinking of tap water, called for discipline and tenacity... All day Ellickson endured. The sun rattled violently in the sky. After the passing hours had presented their trials by fire and ice, he would go to bed feeling that his skin was layered with sandpaper. The post-alcohol world contained no welcoming surfaces... He was in a permanent sulk."
I mention these two terrific stories because Baxter gets pigeonholed as a writer who explores life in the Upper Midwest, where people are decent and contend constantly with boredom. But the stories in this collection really have no such geographic or emotional limitations. Instead, they are rich and diverse and never repeat. Besides "Winter Journey" and "The Old Murder", my favorites include:
o The Next Building I Plan to Bomb: A man faces overwhelming guilt and a sense of insignificance after a reckless and irresponsible liaison at a motel.
o Gryphon: An oddball substitute teacher brings strange but inspiring thoughts to a classroom before she implodes.
o Ghosts: A single mother makes unnerving and risky choices as she tries to cope with her father's illness and the legacy of her own mother.
Still, I do acknowledge that those who grew up in the Upper Midwest (yours truly) may find an extra level of pleasure in some of Baxter's work. In the excellent "Fenstad's Mother", for example, Baxter explores a lyrical connection between abstract academic issues and their ultimate and surprising personalization. At the same time, this story did remind this reader of a forgotten pleasure of Minnesota winters. "Passing a frozen pond in the city park, Fenstad slowed down to watch the skaters, many of whom he knew by name and skating style. From a distance, they were dots of color ready for flight, frictionless. To express grief on skates seemed almost impossible and Fenstad liked that. He parked his car on a residential block and took out his skates..."
A terrific collection and highly recommended.