I
sometimes think of Andy Duncan and Ted Chiang as two peas in a pod.
Anti-prolific, each seems to take immense pride and joy in the act of
writing a story. They take their sweet time developing an idea and
polishing and polishing until it shines. It’s thus no surprise
they produce only one or two short fiction gems per year. Perhaps
knowing a decade would be needed, neither has produced a novel to
date, meaning we readers get to experience the fruits of their
approach more frequently. Six years since Duncan’s last
collection (natch), 2018’s An Agent of Utopia remains
strong proof quality over quantity is the preferred road in the glut
of contemporary publishing.
The
subtitle New & Selected Stories, An Agent of Utopia
aims to be a retrospective scattered with uncollected material.
Bringing back into print several of Duncan’s best stories from
previous collections (something badly needed considering they are out
of print), it likewise brings together a handful which were published
since. Not collecting the handful which were published since,
a few are missing, most notably the collaborative novella with Ellen
Klages “Wakulla Springs”. (I assume this is due to copyright
issues...)
Leading
things off is the title story. Duncan trying on new clothes, the
prose is dense, torqued, and unlike anything we’ve seen from him in
its telling of what happened to Thomas More’s head after it was
separated from his body at Tower Hill in London in 1535. Perhaps
not the most balanced story in the author’s oeuvre (Duncan
typically does a better job threading theme end to end in his
stories), the story nevertheless delivers what might be his most
action packed and suspenseful—007 in 16th century London on a very
macabre mission. Switching gears, “Joe Diabo’s Farewell” tells
of a Native American construction worker in NYC in the 1930s. Life
precariously balanced on the narrow steel beams high above Broadway,
when tragedy strikes the main character decides to have… an
atypical night on the town. Packed to the brim with color and
character (as seemingly all Duncan’s stories are), this is a piece
of post-Depression fiction that exists at a cultural crossroads we
think little about anymore, but does so in vibrant, human fashion.
A
Robert Johnson, crossroads story with an agenda, “Beluthahatchie”
tells of a vice-ridden blues musician from the early 20th century who
meets an untimely end and finds himself on the train to hell. Meeting
the devil and learning about his new living conditions (conditions
immediately recognizable), it’s a flip on a stereotype that will
have the reader thinking. Written in fabulous prose, Duncan draws
the reader in with rich character and dialogue, and leaves them
pondering over the substance after the last word. Capturing high
school nostalgia and cars in a way entirely different yet not unlike
Jack Cady’s “The Night We Buried Road Dog”, “A Map to the
Home to the Stars” takes two high school friends, their love of
girls, the dog days of summer, and spins them into one of those
poignant stories about the passage of time that touches something
deep inside but you don’t know exactly why. Great stuff.
Stories
produced for editor Jonathan Strahan’s (now defunct) Eclipse series
of anthologies, in “Unique Chicken Goes in Reverse” Father
Leggett is called to the house of the O’Connors, and there meets
their strange daughter Mary and an even stranger chicken she has
named Jesus. Uncertainty and doubt creeping into Legget’s
faith in the aftermath of this encounter, the religious undertones of
this subtle, wonderfully balanced story run deep. In “Slow
as a Bullet” Duncan tells a tall tale—or perhaps rather a
slow tale. A simple premise for a simple story, on a whim
Cliffert bets his buddies that he can outrun a bullet. Dripping
with Southern flavor, this one-off in the hands of any other writer
would have perhaps been a dud, but with Duncan’s infusion of
character—in the meta sense—the story leaves an impression.
Another of Duncan’s secret history/missing biography-type stories, “The Pottawatomie Giant” tells the unknown side of life of the early 20th century boxer, Jess Willard. A massive man known for his ability to take a punch, he beat the then consensus champion Jack Johnson to become world champion. As a result, Willard skyrocketed into fame but was never really comfortable with it, as witnessed by his altercation with Harry Houdini. Duncan looking at Willard in old age, it’s an interesting story that twists on itself under Duncan’s wise pen. Another semi-biographical tale, this time of a historical figure few will be aware of, “Zora and the Zombie” looks at real-life anthropologist and writer Zora Neale-Hurston and a trip she takes to Haiti to study the local culture. Voodoo all around, Duncan uses the story to understated effect to balance feminist concerns across traditional and contemporary culture.
“The
Big Rock Candy Mountain” an old hobo legend about a paradise where
hens lay soft boiled eggs, bulldogs have rubber teeth, you never have
to change your socks, and other hobo fantasies, in his version Duncan
turns the dial up to 11 on imagination, and creates a
mini-utopia/dystopia in the process. A curveball for the first
several pages, it takes time for the reader to get their head around
what he’s aiming for. But when you get it, you get it, and the
story takes off. A bit of Florida jailhouse voodoo, “Daddy Mention
and Monday Skull” takes an old man behind bars who wants to sing,
an alligator who lives in a nearby swamp, and spins it into Duncan
magic. Just one more story whose premise you’ll not find anywhere
else…
Taking
Tolkien’s famous hobbits and twisting them into a light though
effective story on racism, in “Senator Bilbo” Duncan uses the
alternate races of Middle Earth to analogous human effect. The
story probably started as a bit of a larff by Duncan, but once the
ball got rolling, really started taking solid shape—and you don’t
need to be a fan of Tolkien to appreciate it. (The last
lines of the story have been done before, but this in no way should
detract from the message.) Closing the collection in fine style by
capturing an amazing character voice, “Close Encounters” takes a
look at UFO sightings through the eyes of a poor elderly man who once
purported to have been abducted by aliens. Twilight Zone with
human integrity, the tale concludes at a beautiful point of equipoise
that likewise closes the collection in fine style.
Though
only a third of the stories are previously uncollected, An
Agent of Utopia nevertheless makes for necessary reading by
Duncan regulars; the newly collected stories only add to the variety
of flavors and spices the author writes with. For those unfamiliar
with Duncan’s work, the collection likewise makes an excellent
entry point given the number and quality of stories which were
selected from Duncan’s backlog to be re-printed. “Zora and the
Zombie”, “Close Encounters”, and “The Map to the Homes of the
Stars” are among the best Duncan has written, let alone compared to
short fiction on the wider market. Combined with the fact older
Duncan collections can be difficult to find, Small Beer’s New &
Selected Stories does its part to perpetuate the art and work of
one the 21st century’s tip-top best writers of short fiction. Keep
on taking your time, Mr. Duncan. The wait is worth it.
Containing
twelve stories, the following are the contents of An Agent of
Utopia:
An
Agent of Utopia
Joe
Diabo's Farewell
Beluthahatchie
The
Map to the Homes of the Stars
The
Pottawatomie Giant
Senator
Bilbo
The
Big Rock Candy Mountain
Daddy
Mention and the Monday Skull
Zora
and the Zombie
Unique
Chicken Goes in Reverse
Slow
as a Bullet
Close
Encounters
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