Fiction, Short Stories, 2020
I read Daddy almost entirely outside, with a crisp Diet Coke under the spring sun that turned increasingly strong as the stories progressed. By the time I reached "Marion"—the emotional and stylistic climax of the collection—I had to reposition myself so I didn't burn the back of my legs. The grass seemed happy—for the first time in months—and the weeds rooted between the blades offered dozens of tiny white flowers with lilac stems. I would doze off with them whispering in my ear and wake up thinking of the Cline's characters.
Daddy is a short story collection, so I can't paint a narrative arc like I otherwise would have. But if you're already a fan of Cline, know that these stories should be savoured like little treats. They explore a cast of characters around America, from ageing men to teenage girls, and seem entirely devoted to stretching the tenuous thread that keeps social interactions civil. In every story, tension builds, and the next page could offer either a catastrophic interaction or a full stop. But because this is Emma Cline, it's almost always a full stop.
My favourite in the collection, "Marion", centres around a preteen girl who befriends a thirteen-year-old. They wear bright bikinis and sunbathe on a family weed farm, hoping that someone is watching them. Marion develops a crush on an older guy they vaguely know, and then the power dynamics of girls who have just found their teenage power ensue. Without spoiling anything, stay tuned for blood, polaroids, and the undignified end of summer. None of these topics are new, but Cline writes almost clinically, so the question of judgment or emotion is off the table. Anything you feel for the characters—and you will feel a great deal—is entirely a reflection of your own emotion, like bright sunshine reflecting off a white page.
Song - Ribs
Film - Priscilla
I love the way you write!!!
Delightful, as always.