Hegi examines gender-power struggles
A real-estate agent runs into her first love, who has grown grotesquely fat. A German widow plans her suicide in Mexican waters. An Oregon man, retired and in failing health, gets a peculiar new lease on life with a heart transplant.
At first glance, little seems to connect the stories in "Hotel of the Saints," Ursula Hegi's first short-story collection in a decade.
But dig deeper and you will discover common themes that emerge from Hegi's precisely detailed fixes on such very different lives.
Time and again, she returns to the notion that choices are available across the entire span of one's lifetime. Even if changing one's circumstances is not possible, changing one's attitude about the circumstances is.
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In the title story, a young seminarian takes leave from his studies to help his newly widowed aunt settle her husband's estate. The nephew is stunned to see that instead of grieving, the widow flourishes — after years of being under her spouse's thumb, she is free to live according to her own lights.
Hegi returns to that dynamic — the overbearing husband, the oppressed wife — in other stories.
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The third story that treats this type of relationship is the most disturbing. In "The End of All Sadness," an ex-convict's assertion of power over his new wife quickly escalates into physical abuse. The wife submits, but with a twist — she is able to channel much of this energy into a sexual relationship that is perversely gratifying for them both. Unfortunately, this metamorphosis — from violence to sex — often takes place in front of the woman's 10-year-old daughter.
Half a hemisphere away, and several notches upward in socioeconomic status, another young girl receives similarly warped lessons in love and desire. "A Woman's Perfume," however, does not deal with violence. Instead, it involves an older man's obsession with a pubescent girl, and the appalling collusion to facilitate this alliance by the very parties who should be working to prevent it.
It seems that Hegi has studied the vast and bewildering tableau of gender-power struggles, and focused on aspects around which to build richly nuanced vignettes. And yet, as attentive as she is to the settings, the dialogue, the gestures and posturing — in these stories there is an element of authorial detachment. The characters are specimens — they are not empathized with, but scrutinized.
That is not true of all the stories in this collection. "Stolen Chocolates" has a winning kind of charm à la John Waters. For "A Town Like Ours," which is a tale about strained filial ties, Hegi embroiders an old-fashioned and sensible happy ending that will resonate for many.
And then there is the final story, "Lower Crossing." When it comes to tearjerkers, there is (to this reviewer) a particularly loathsome subgenre that traffics in the death of beloved pets. Many writers seem to feel compelled to write such a story, and this is Hegi's bid.
She sets the story in her former hometown of Spokane, and populates it with likable characters and a wonderful dog. She serves up interesting ruminations on life and death, and weaves in lively asides on a variety of other subjects. But the end comes, as it always does, and the pet gets put down, as it always does, and this reviewer snuffles, as she always does — all the while feeling that this seems to be a rather calculated way to wrench readers' hearts.
There is some undeniably well-crafted work here, but also some weak links. That's why this reviewer has reservations about Hegi's "Hotel."