Amazon.com Review
An urban legend making the rounds goes something like this: a guy accepts a drink from a good-looking woman in an airport bar and, three hours later, wakes up in a bathtub full of ice, missing a kidney. This apocryphal tale of involuntary black-market organ donors figures in the title story of Tom Paine's debut collection,
Scar Vegas. But though a purloined kidney provides a twist, Paine has already delivered the knock-out punch much earlier as he catalogs the black comedy of errors dogging the marriage of Janey "Fruit" Loop to semipro football player Breezy Bonaventure. At the center of the nuptial confusion is Johnny Loop, ex-con brother of the bride and the tale's narrator: "We are the Loops. Someone sure as hell is Fruit if you are the Loops." As he negotiates his sister's beer-guzzling fiancé and the fiancé's belligerent teammates, Johnny maintains his sang-froid: "I ain't never surprised. This world ain't never sprung nothing on me. Some people get themselves hit by lightning and other strange things but that ain't me at all." By the time Johnny discovers, in fact, that that
is him, Paine has already led his character and readers on so vividly surreal a tour of the Loser's Las Vegas that the ending seems less a surprise than the only possible conclusion to such an adventure.
But the weirdness and pathos in "Scar Vegas" pales in comparison to what Paine gives us in "General Markman's Last Stand" in which a Marine Corps officer long idolized by his men faces his greatest challenge yet: his retirement party. Suffice it to say there's more to Markman than meets the eye. And in "Will You Say Something, Monsieur Eliot?" the author hits home with an agonizing encounter between a wealthy, shipwrecked American and the boatload of Haitian refugees who rescue him. Each of the 10 stories in this collection is larger than life--not for this writer carefully understated dissections of personal relationships or quiet domestic drama. Instead Paine gives us white slavers, Romanian brothers on a road trip to Reno, Myanmar witch doctors, and delegates to an Anarchist convention. The voices are fresh, the stories unflinchingly true to themselves; Scar Vegas is as compelling as it is edgy. --Sheila Bright
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
From Publishers Weekly
A striking panoply of voices and settings that nevertheless emanate from a singular, daring conscience, this gathering of 10 tales from O. Henry and Pushcart Prize-author Paine reveals an abiding concern for the subjugated spirit's slim hopes for subverting oppressive social or political regimes. In "General Markman's Last Stand," a Marine hero endures the violent reverence of his enlistees as he bravely moves toward certain humiliation on his last day of service. Paine visits disparate lands and contorts countless dialects in his focus on the menace of colonization . One tale, set in a Myanmar tavern, concerns a hotel real estate developer's anecdote about razing a pristine Balinese forest. Another assumes the voice of a 16-year-old Providence, R.I., skateboard punk on his way to the '96 Portland Anarchist Convention ("Nobody is really clear on when the Anarchist Convention is going to start...") with some strained but affecting present-tense colloquy. Paine's rendering of the rhythms of Eastern European speech and political sentiment is particularly poignant and sharp in the excellent "Ceausescu's Cat," where Romanian twin brothersAone a poet, one a thiefAbridle against oppression in their divergent ways. But warning also comes in the form of the comeuppance tale. In "Will You Say Something, Monsieur Eliot?" and the equally savage "A Predictable Nightmare on the Eve of the Stock Market Breaking 6,000," a conquering, strutting executive is forced to face mortal physical danger and personal despair. Paine is concerned with institutional and political arrogance and ignorance, and with the meek, inarticulate travelers shuffling along the peripheries of the callous states erected by the ruling minority. He is everywhere updating the "superfluous man" (part Melville, part Conrad, part Mailer even): misshapen, ungraceful men and women groping for a clue of divinity manifest in the form of even a qualified liberty. In spare, seasoned prose, Paine portrays this invisible, searching majority and honors their often doomed hopes with the dignity they seek. (Jan.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.