Iowa Short Fiction Award
1 total work
In Sari Rosenblatt's collection, by turns tender and hilarious, we see fathers who are bullies and nervous watchdogs, haunted by their own pasts and fear of the future they may never see. And who do their daughters become? A substitute teacher who encounters mouthy students who believe she's not real. Another lands a job on her city's arson squad, researching derelict properties their owners might want to burn. A beleaguered mother, humiliated by the PTA's queen bee, finds solace in an ancient piece of caramel candy. 'I keep sucking,' she says, 'until some flavor, no longer caramel, comes out.' In the end, this is what all these finely wrought characters want: to wring sweetness from what's been passed down to them.
Rosenblatt's comic sensibility, so present in these stories, entertains and consoles, while seeming to say to her readers: you might as well laugh.
Rosenblatt's comic sensibility, so present in these stories, entertains and consoles, while seeming to say to her readers: you might as well laugh.