The Civilized Tribes: New and Selected Stories by Jerry Bumpus
The University of Akron Press, 1995
277 pages; cloth, $24.95; paper, $14.95Reviewed by June Owens
Winner of Chaffin/Kash Award, the Colquitt and McIntire Prizes, for Poetry
In these hi-tech, eat-on-the-run, scratch-and-peck days, people short on time prefer short stories. The Civilized Tribes: New and Selected Stories, by Jerry Bumpus not only responds to the demands of a highly-mobile, short story-reading public, but does so with flair and with an awareness of the human predicament.
Today, many of our fiction writers are writing efficiently, but with a sort of ground-out-of-a-pasta-machine precision. Often it seems that beautiful writing is embarrassing, that even with all the prescribed ingredients, the bread of good writing doesn't rise. Why? Because the yeast, or soul, has been left out of the process. Bumpus, however, possesses such yeast, such a soul. He knows how to write economically, truthfully, touchingly. It all comes out in a beautifully proportioned loaf full of good narrative.
Born in 1937, Bumpus has been around, publishing four other short story collections and two novels. During the 60s, he was called "the king of the underground writers," but he is now more broadly acclaimed as a literary innovator.
The eleven entries in this handsomely-produced volume have been published elsewhere at least once in such journals as Cream City Review, Kansas Quarterly and Northwest Review, and in four anthologies. These stories are worth reprinting as they are grand and deserve to be collected under one title.
The title story, The Civilized Tribes, tells of a grisly accident and its aftermath. A loading dock worker is accidentally impaled on the blade of a forklift. Vietnam flashbacks, instinctive reactions are worked into the piece as well as scenes of power and exploitation and of show-biz TV news. Mrs. Bell and Her Dog seems to be about an old woman and a large, mean dog. Instead the story is about loneliness, cruelty, smells, houses, hatred, windows, chains and terror. The Worms Are Singing is rich with powerfully-drawn characters who are filtered through its protagonist, Helen Sarshins. This engrossing tale is about a small town, youthful dreams, Sunday afternoons, paralyzed lives, three reasons people marry, faraway looks and dark secrets. We learn the poignant meaning of "Fill up the caring Haska." We learn what lies beneath our surfaces.
If we look for truth in contemporary literature and at the same time look at Bumpus' work, the final paragraph of the last story, On the Emperor's Birthday, gives us what we seek: "Why would I lie to you," he said, already turning away, "of all persons."
We are convinced that Bumpus means us.
All contents copyright © 1996, The Blue Moon Review, All Rights Reserved.