This Month In Books, October 2009: When Amy Hempel’s “The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel” Met Michael Hurley’s “Parsnip Snips” LP

Michael Hurley – Light Green Fellow

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I’m beginning to wonder whether the artistic media my escapism hopscotches upon from one month to the next mimics the seasons. The nature of the content I engage per medium certainly adheres to this trajectory, so it would stand to reason the part of me that chooses literature over film in fall, or music over art in spring, too, would assent to these quarterly inclinations.

I spent the better part of October with my nose dripping into book after book. (Perhaps October is the time when one craves endless streams of letter-sized visual stimuli?) Above is a picture of this month’s lot; you can find the more compelling pieces at the top of the pile and the most odious at the very bottom. Please note, I have chosen not to include comics and graphic novels as part of this series; a separate column shall be dedicated exclusively to this end.

And now, The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel and Michael Hurley’s haunting Parsnip Snips LP.

Michael Hurley – New Tea

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Years ago, during an interview where The Atlantic Monthly inquired about her writing process, Amy Hempel responded with the following statement:

“It [represents] the way I read. I’m not first and foremost interested in story and the what-happens, but I’m interested in who’s telling it and how they’re telling it and the effects of whatever happened on the characters and the people.

While, generally speaking, it’s rare for me to agree with those who subscribe to the philosophy that a work’s greatness often relies more heavily on the medium its inscribed than the content itself, I cannot help but make exception when it comes to this particular collection of short stories. (And, believe me, the content is nothing short of stunning.) Hempel’s insistence on emphasizing delivery above carefully structured plot development is one of the primary reasons her works are regarded as such jarring, heartbreaking masterpieces.

The last page of Hempel’s famed “In The Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Burried” remorsefully reads:

I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands.

In the course of the experiment, that chimp had a baby. Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign to her newborn.

Baby, drink milk.

Baby, play ball.

And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby, come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.

The best way for a writer to become more than a writer, to yield words that are more than words, is to embrace storytelling, to utilize the act of writing in an increasingly creative fashion — never as obligatory tool of the trade, but rather as an omnipresent, gainfully employed silent character.

And no short story author, really, no one accomplishes this feat with as much precision as Amy Hempel.

Which leads me, now, to Michael Hurley, the man whose recently reissued Parsnip Snips LP provided the aural backdrop during my time spent gulping down Hempel’s works.

So, how shall I put this?

I walk the track, the stars refuse to shine,
And it seemed like every minute, I was gonna lose my mind.
-Michael Hurley, “New Tea”

I like to think no state of peace, or war, or lending, no cavalry decree could gloom a man so as to produce a solemner gesture than Michael Hurley’s “New Tea.”

Hurley’s Parsnip Snips found me upon streets lined auburn, sidewalks spiced with unswept death and the sad sigh of fallen things, though I imagine the wispy draft of Hurley’s melancholic timbre enough to spirit any living person away.

The first page of Hempel’s “Tumble Home” closes with the devastating line, “How can I possibly put an end to this when it feels so good to pull sounds out of my body and show them to you?”

Which seems as concise a way as any for me to say that I desperately hope you get your hands on a copy of either Hempel’s or Hurley’s brilliant creations. Please.

[Buy "The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel", Michael Hurley's Parsnip Snips LP]