Barry Hannah’s High Lonesome by Amy Hempel

Part of the Editor's Choice series.

BOMB 58 Winter 1997
Issue 58 058  Winter 1997
Barry Hannah

Barry Hannah. Photo by Susan Lippman.

In a lecture last year at Bennington College, Barry Hannah offered advice to writing students that was simple and profound: “Be master of such as you have.” The critically acclaimed, award-winning writer from Mississippi is himself master of the hot moment, of linguistic reverb (his term), and of the enviable sentence. From Airships and Ray to Bats Out of Hell, his voice has been a corrective to so much generic-sounding fiction.

Hannah has always been brilliant at depicting people in retreat, not just from the awfulness of their souls, but from the sweetness of them. This time out, in the stories in High Lonesome, Hannah is Grand Marshall at a parade of human ugliness. His characters are “autoannointed third-raters,” or the folks who oppose them: “Beating back nature was the obsession of men in these suburbs, and failing that, arranging it like a combed orphan.” Yet there is a softer spirit present in certain of these stories, though less acute an observer—a reassessment from a new stage of life. “Something tired and battered and loud had just thrown in the towel,” is the thought of a man recently released from “the lifetime monster of lust,” and of drink.

Hannah has said he finds plots “confining”: his free-range excursions are a wry, wise play-by-play of old fools and new fools just hanging around hoping somebody don’t like it. Lowered expectations abound, nowhere more than in marriage, where the feeling of a man for his wife is “an embattled apathy each morning goaded into mere courtesy.” One fellow beats up another “in a dutiful way, just socking him as if stamping the price on groceries.”

Yet these stories are not gloomy thanks to Hannah’s incomparable humor—as wicked as ever, those glorious sentences are teased out of the language the rest of us use, and the underpinning of Christian acceptance for our muted efforts.

High Lonesome was just recently published by Atlantic Monthly Press.

Lydia Peelle by Gillian Welch
Lydia Peelle 01
Ryan Boudinot’s The Littlest Hitler by Nicole Steinberg
Ryan Boudinot

“Then there’s the time I went as Hitler for Halloween,” begins the title story of Ryan Boudinot’s debut collection.

Released from Suffering: Elle Nash Interviewed by Shy Watson
Cover with dark red background with a gun and nineties-style date on a light yellow background

Stories that explore pain, obsession, and desire.

Danielle Evans by Jamel Brinkley
Portrait of author Danielle Evans. The photograph is tinted pink.

In Evans’s first interview before the release of her new and unintentionally prescient collection, The Office of Historical Corrections, she discusses humor, power, and replicas of the Titanic.

Originally published in

BOMB 58, Winter 1997

Featuring interviews with Michael Ondaatje, Billy Bob Thornton, Hilton Als, Oumou Sangare, Emmet Gowin, Donald Antrim, Stuart Hall, Marjetica Portč, Miloš Foreman, and David Rabinowitch.

Read the issue
Issue 58 058  Winter 1997