Jim Shepard by Amy Hempel

Part of the Editor's Choice series.

BOMB 56 Summer 1996

New York Live Arts presents

Marjani Forte
Nov 15-19

Jim Shepard

Jim Shepard.

Jim Shepard’s first collection of short stories reads like a prize anthology, such is the range and success of Batting Against Castro (Knopf). The author of four acclaimed novels, Shepard evokes the voices of American baseball players in pre-revolutionary Cuba, a couple motoring across the South after a nuclear attack, a girl spending the night with a classmate who is “poor like in the movies,” and the German director Murnau during the filming of his Nosferatu.

Shepard’s writing is lean, assured, never canned; it is sometimes cinematic (he teaches film as well as literature at Williams College) and often astringently funny—the girl en route to her poor friend’s home thinks, “What was I scared of? There weren’t going to be enough cable channels?” He reconstructs the ordinary and offers the surreal as a given: “Ida” is a play-by-play of a Vikings-Steelers game in which one of the Vikings team members is the narrator’s mother. The excruciating terms of surrender at an animal shelter are as shrewdly defined as the behavior of a boy with emotional problems. He finds highly original ways into two of the most moving stories, about brothers, one of whom is doomed to jail and institutions.

“You never know what you can do until you try,” a man tells a skeptical woman in “Piano Starts Here.” “Then you do,” she says. “That’s the problem.” Or, as with these stories, the triumph.

—Amy Hempel

The Zero Meter Diving Team by Jim Shepard
Gloss by Leah Dworkin
Leah Dworkin Gloss Banner

I say something about the time and he replies, “I cannot sleep in this lifeless room, I can’t, I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make me.”

Baby, They Call It Vermilion by Annie Dewitt
Annie Dewitt Banner

The first thing my Godsent said when I came through the door was, “I think I have this damn thing on backwards.”

Supermán by Achy Obejas
Obejas Bomb 141

They say that, for the longest time, Enrique didn’t know he was a superman. What he understood was that men liked his dick.

Originally published in

BOMB 56, Summer 1996
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