New book demonstrates major talent

Bibliophiles have had a grand smorgasbord of homegrown literature lately. Recently, Ă©cole Secondaire Ste. Marguerite d’Youville grad Paul Zits put forth his stellar poetry tome, Massacre Street, and Morinville’s Jessica Kluthe published her much-acclaimed look into personal history with Rosina the Midwife. Both were received with great acclaim and popular opinions.

Weighty stuff, all.

Now, another necessary and important book has just been released and is soon set to land on bookshelves across the province and likely, the country. It’s also another one that could easily land a few awards. Astrid Blodgett’s first book of fiction short stories is a bravado performance coming at the beginning of the writer’s career, rather than at the end. It speaks of more great things to come.

The St. Albert-raised writer is no stranger to publication in literary journals or anthologies. Having a paperback of her own is something much, much different, she says.

“It’s kind of a weird feeling. It’s very exciting and satisfying… but it’s been a bit discombobulating to have them out there in such a public way. This is bigger. It’s thrilling!”

You Haven’t Changed a Bit gets its big launch tomorrow, after a lot of advance notice including a reading with Zits last month at the University of Alberta. This is the book for the serious short fiction fan, or those who are just tired of sledgehammer morality tales and ham-handed whodunit climaxes, or books that are written by unfledged authors who can only crank out the paper-thinnest characters in 400 pages of ponderous prose. In 200 pages or less, Blodgett puts forth a baker’s dozen of stories, each one a revelation of acumen and economy.

That’s the real trick of the short story game, the author says.

“Saying so little… but not too little,” she laughs. “That’s a challenge.”

Economy of words isn’t about using as few words as possible. It’s about leaving some things to the imagination, letting the reader figure things out and fill in the gaps. The world would be a better place if J.K. Rowling or Stephen King understood the concept. Trimming the fat off of their books would have saved many trees and many readers many hours of time.

Writing less doesn’t mean writing thin. It’s about expert prose and exposition.

Blodgett is astute at fleshing out characters and expounding on situations with just the right words or phrases, a very tough skill to acquire. These are plausible people in plausible moments. Everything rings true.

“I think that’s just my style, just to take everyday people and put them in ordinary situations and then just twist things a little bit. Life throws them a curveball. Something happens that they don’t expect or that they can’t cope with.”

There’s the sinister brilliance of tone of Giving Blood, a story that tells the reader so much through its atmosphere, not by actual scrutiny of events. Getting the Cat reveals so much of its protagonist through his voice. Ice Break is heart-stopping with its staccato time shifting and minutiae of a tragedy in progress.

There’s temptation to just let all of the details come out, but writing longer stories or full novels, she says, just isn’t her thing.

“I don’t think that’s in me. I’m drawn to the short story form. It’s a bit annoying in a way because I think it’s really, really hard. Many people have said it’s much easier to write a novel. You can get away with the odd mistake or flaw in a novel. It really stands out in a short story. Sometimes the subject matter requires a certain form.”

Her subject matter is also on the small side: the vague psychic pains of our everyday lives, the tricky rules of social behaviour, the brief moments of interaction that seem to linger on and affect you for the rest of your life.

Sometimes you start to read a story and you wonder, “Well, what’s the point of this? Where’s she going with it?” and then, by the end not so long after you’ve begun, you realize, “My God, this is brilliant!”

Let’s hope Blodgett never changes a bit.