Three Essay Collections To Savor

The personal essay had become a neglected literary form until small magazines began reviving it in the 1970s. Like short stories, essays are often brief and intense. The focus is close, the impact strong.

But publishers didn't like to print essay or short-story collections, claiming such books didn't sell.

As an essay editor and short-story writer, I'm delighted those publishers were wrong. Short fiction has had a renaissance, and three wonderful new books of personal essays should help continue the current revival of this long-overlooked nonfiction genre.

Passionate curiosity underlies these spirited new inquiries by Barbara Kingsolver, Sue Hubbell and Robert Leo Heilman. Their varied backgrounds and inquisitive natures result in news from around the world, whether it's about pies, politics, prejudice or protecting the environment.

The 25 pieces in Kingsolver's "High Tide in Tucson: Essays from Now or Never" (HarperCollins, $22) reflect the same warm-hearted intelligence in her popular novels.

There's fluff: "Life Without Go-Go Boots" looks at fashion, which "has the shelf-life of potato salad," while "The Household Zen" tackles housework, a k a "the semiannual dust-bison roundup." There's fun: "Confessions of a Reluctant Rock Goddess" tells of jitters and joys playing keyboard in an all-author band, while "Postcards from the Imaginary Mom" reveals the trials and tribulations of an author tour.

But there are many thoughtful attempts to work out more serious matters, too. "Jabberwocky" finds no justification for the Gulf War, nor does "In the Belly of the Beast" detect sanity in atomic bombs. Whether cultural, personal or theoretical, Kingsolver's nonfiction is a delight.

"Far-Flung" wisdom

Sue Hubbell, formerly a regular with The New Yorker, often filed essays for that magazine's "Our Far-Flung Correspondents" department. Thirteen pieces from the 1980s and early '90s form "Far-Flung Hubbell: Essays from the American Road" (Random House, $21). An elegant writer and earthy woman - Hubbell is a commercial beekeeper and loves long drives and truck stops - her interests here include Hopping John, the New Year's good-luck dish of black-eyed peas and rice; Elvis sightings in Michigan; and the smart folks behind the dumb tabloids.

In "The Great American Pie Expedition," Hubbell offers three rules: 1) "Pie is good in 85 percent of the eating establishments that are between two other buildings;" 2) "Good pie may often be near the places where meadowlarks sing;" and 3) "Never eat pie within one mile of an interstate highway." A naturalist, Hubbell displays a scientist's eye for detail with a comedian's turn of phrase.

Humble observations

Robert Leo Heilman's "Overstory: Zero - Real Life in Timber Country" (Sasquatch Books, $21.95) sends word from Myrtle Creek, Ore. A high-school dropout (he later earned a GED), Heilman held more than 30 blue-collar jobs until a back injury settled him into a writer's more sedentary life. Many subjects catch his eye: Little League baseball, salmon, geese, rototilling, house painting, teen suicide.

The title essay looks at the mind- and body-numbing jobs of logging and reforestation. In timber talk, "The top layer is called the overstory. . . . Clearcuts are designated by the phrase `Overstory: Zero.' "

In "Monday Morning" and "Getting By," unemployment becomes personal, making self-reliance essential. "Counting Heads" tells of census-taking in 1990, while other essays walk the difficult line between conservation and business and development.

Heilman takes on big questions in humble prose. His lengthy essays are more satisfying than his two-page snapshots, but as with Kingsolver and Hubbell, he tests assumptions, giving readers the opportunity to question and deliberate - to "essay" their own trials - as well.

Irene Wanner is features editor of The Seattle Review.