The third collection of stories, I Still Don’t Even Know You, by Peterborough, Ont., writer Michelle Berry is a compelling look at the mysteries of human beings. Berry convincingly and often humorously reveals how difficult – or even impossible – it is to know one another. Facts do not add up to knowledge: They may even get in the way.
Eleven of the 16 stories have been published in some form in literary journals, newspapers or books, and the collection shows Berry’s strengths as a commentator on contemporary life. In the title story, Jack and Rebecca are on a ski vacation for their tenth wedding anniversary. Their marriage is in the doldrums, and the couple are at a turning point. Jack is sick of listening to Rebecca talk – it’s all she does, and he longs for solitude. Jack becomes entranced by the liveliness of two teenage girls: “He knows what they are thinking. That he’s old. That he’s there with his wife who is vomiting up stories about their kids. That he is trying to be young again. He knows they are thinking when they are as old as he is they won’t be skiing. They’ll be in an old age home. That’s what he would have thought when he was their age.” Berry describes the trajectory of the ski trip and the marriage with utter realism. And the outcome is both expected and unexpected. The story is skillfully and sensitively constructed.
I Still Don?t Even Know You, by Michelle Berry, Turnstone Press, 211 pages, $19
Hunting for Something is one of the most hauntingly beautiful stories in the collection. Tom Hunt opens up a religious supply store with the money from his mother’s will. He has spent 20 years as a machine welder, and he now appreciates being his own boss. Tom is a loner. He doesn’t even care if people buy stuff; he’s happy sitting in his store, watching television. He’s utterly disconnected from his fellow human beings.
“Tom accepts people just the way they are, be they pure or evil, be they sprinkled with a bit of zealousness – it’s all the same to him. He has no responsibility to anyone, and doesn’t care to, and so whatever people believe in doesn’t bother him at all.” Berry delicately dissects Tom’s generosity: He doesn’t mind when a nun takes two handfuls of the free candy he provides, and he likes to wrap purchases carefully. A fine detail is that Tom loves snow globes, and when a man comes into the shop one day looking for something, Tom hopes he will shake a snow globe and fall in love with it. But that doesn’t happen, and the man lurks about, making Tom somewhat apprehensive about what he will do. Berry has a gift for conclusions, and Hunting for Something has a splendid ending.
The range of characters in these stories is wide. In Mary-Lou’s Getting Married, the pregnant bride goes into labour while her groom has a fling with a woman in a closet. Mary-Lou’s ex-boyfriend, Percy Q, shows up in a green taffeta dress from a dumpster to protest against the whole thing, and Percy Q’s sister, Emmie, worries about her relationship with a man old enough to be her grandfather. But he’s rich. Emmie thinks, “This is a wedding we’ll all remember.” No kidding.
In Every Summer, In Every Watery Town All Over the World, There is at Least One Drowning, the title lets readers know the plot, but it’s the character development that sticks with us. Berry’s main character is a teenage girl rebelling against her rich parents’ expectations by hanging out with “Leroy, the delinquent stock boy.” We know the ending will be tragic, but it’s the journey that makes it all worthwhile.
In Dogs, a wife and mother tries desperately to find time to write, and the story includes her story about a boy and his dog. In Henderson Has Scored for Canada, a little girl attends a hockey game with her father as her parents’ farm fails along with their marriage. In Convenience, a girl tries to tell her boyfriend a terrible secret.
All the stories in this book have such emotional depth that they can be reread numerous times. Berry makes the strange ordinary and vice versa. Her perception and compassion are immense; flawed characters are treated with respect and an obvious desire for comprehension. I Still Don’t Even Know You combines style and substance for a richly rewarding experience.
Candace Fertile teaches English at Camosun College in Victoria.
