On Reading Etgar Keret

Israeli phenom Etgar Keret writes curious little stories.   Which, if you think about it, is a nice niche.  The output of the diminutive Canadian Alice Munro, who writes curious BIG stories—and that’s all she wrote (as she is retired) (—note to myself on another topic: whoever heard of a retired writer?)—can’t hold a candle to the prolific Keret.  Currently he would have to be more the writer-of-the-moment, and his tastes more comic.  He is known widely in Israel.  He writes stories, graphic novels and television and screenplays as well.  Among other credits, he wrote and directed an underground classic called “Wristcutters, a Love Story” (2006) a Godot-like movie which takes place in a desert Purgatory for those who commit suicide.

But really here, in America, he is not much talked about except among the cognoscenti—though he has made it on radio, of all things, on the “pages” of “This American Life” on more than one occasion.  He does not read his own stuff on the air which is written originally in Hebrew.  He insists that someone else read his work aloud—which translated, requires a knowledge, he says, of idiomatic English.  Slang, in other words.

His stories are oddball and cockamamie, to say the least—to use a couple of outmoded adjectives of the “pre-beat” generation.  But they are ever-entertaining, even if (mostly) not quite memorable—and, to my ear, all of a quality of stand-up comedy mixed with the down-home dry saltiness of Kurt Vonnegut, one of his inspirations.  We have many collections to choose from.  You can sip at his crazy stories at bedtime, propped on pillows, eager for the next silly sentence.  The book at my nightstand now is “The Nimrod Flip Out.”  I can take in one of his stories like I would a soothing cup of chamomile: it is but five minutes, and at the end of it, my cockles are blissfully warmed, my brain ready for beddy-bye.

“Shorts”—as in short films—is another thing he does—and many of.  “Shorts” is a fussy word in modern America, and popular interest underwhelms.  Seems like we have turned our back on our own heritage—short films were a hugely popular entertainment in the first part of the 20th century—just as short stories, popularized in the 19th century, were still happily tucked into most magazines of the early 20th.  Today “the thirst for shorts,” by connoisseurs of such, is limited mostly to festivals, made largely by upstart filmmaker hopefuls trying to get that Sundance Some-Such Award.  The popular taste for shorts still seems unlimited, but mostly when it comes to YouTube and Super Bowl commercials.  C’est la vie.

Perhaps, though, this love of the brief is making a comeback.  It sort of makes sense to me that contemporary screenwriters have become quite the consummate go-to for the young—those who have a hunger for the creative word but little time or patience to devour more than a few pages at a time.  Have smart phones paved the way for Etgar Keret?  Well, let me note—as a kind of highway marker to that (ahem) one-dimensional future destination—herewith, one of the “reviews” cited on the back cover of “Nimrod”:

Agreed.  Sort of.

On Reading Miranda July

Brought to my attention by Kip Lacy, our own master of the contemporary—Miranda July has written fascinating stories, good stories.  She has also done short films, started out as a performance artist (not familiar to me on that score), and has even written and directed a couple of really entertaining low-budget movies popular among the younger crowd.  Of those two films, Connie and I saw “The Future and Me and You and Everyone We Know” (2005)—which has over 80% stars from both reviewers and audience on Rotten Tomatoes—I’ll give it a “Thumbs Out” which means far-out and truckin’ in the right direction.  “The Future” (2011) is another, and problematic for some.  But where her short story voice is awesomely authentic, she has in films (at least to me) acquired that independent filmmaker voice—a kind of disembodied cinematic narrator—underwhelming characters—plot lines that veer dangerously near the cliff—penchant for absurdity, deadpan humor, and non-sequitur-like scenes and sentences.  Does that square with her ability?

Oddly enough, in my opinion, it is the short story that gives her THE SPACE to develop a rapport with her reader and her characters. So to me, her voice is genuine and fun to read.  I told Kip that I had recalled reading a July story, but could not remember it.  What I remembered was her uncommon name.  Having taken on her story collection, however, I have found a friend.  The book is over ten years old, but even ten years ago it lacked the standard-issue youthful melancholia to go with it—a good thing.

For one thing, in her short fiction, July often strikes a chord.

As with Etgar Keret, there is an urgency to the writing that propels the story—in paragraph after paragraph, where sometimes “action” is little more than the narrator’s exploration of an idea.

All the above excerpts are from the collection “No One Belongs Here More Than You” (2005).  July’s first novel, “The First Bad Man” (2015) came out last year to mixed reviews.  Her movie “The Future” (2011) . . . same story.  Of course, “mixed reviews” does, by its very definition, mean GOOD reviews as well as the other unmentionables.  Mustn’t forget that.  Her early short films have kind of aged too but that is expected of early efforts—one of which is “Atlanta” (2007).

Still, as mentioned above, she started out as a performance artist—and so it is, that not-so-unique stage voice of hers, which often feels both commonplace and experimental, still conveys a natural talent for getting clever ideas across.

Have we happened upon a situation here?  An artist who has branched into TOO MANY fields of endeavor?

I certainly hope not.  For my sake.