Hope in Belinda Anderson's Fiction

A review of The Bingo Cheaters

by Belinda Anderson. Mountain State Press, 2006, 189 pp. Cat Pleska, Ed.

 

           Consider: Experts on the public’s reading habits indicate that reading is a declining activity in this country. Reasons vary—the internet, lack of education in and promotion for reading, to name a few, but folks who respond to my occasional ponderings as to why they don’t read cite lack of time.

Consider: Publishers think the public won’t buy short stories because everyone prefers novels, so the trade publishers are traditionally hard to convince they should publish short story collections.

I think there’s an obvious answer here to ease the negatives of both considerations: no time to read long novels? Then read short stories. Do you have books tucked around the house partly read? What was the first part about anyway, you might ask when you stumble across a partially read book months after you began it? And how discouraging is that?

Short stories are perfect for today’s harried, word over-loaded society. What’s more satisfying than to begin and end an entertaining—and complete—short story between laundry loads, or for a few minutes to help you wind down after putting the kids to bed?

The finely crafted stories in The Bingo Cheaters, in a fortuitous event, carry another bonus: the stories share characters. It’s like wandering through a novel. Through each story, characters romp in the background, star as the main attraction, or hover in the middle ground. It’s like catching up with family members; you know who they are—you just don’t know what they’ve been up to lately.

Traditionally, short stories are between 5,000 and 8,000 words—another reason to pick up Anderson’s collection. One short story that shares the title of the book, “The Bingo Cheaters,” is a beautifully compact 1,384 words. Brevity is Anderson’s strength. Her crafting of succinct, but satisfyingly complete stories is so superb that none leaves you scratching your head at the conclusion. Yet, no resolution is handled gratuitously.

Perhaps it’s a reflection of Anderson’s journalism training that her style is informed by conciseness of language and crisp character development. Words do double, even triple duty; however, there is no feeling that anything needs to be “unpacked.” All her words are evocative, touching into many worlds of thoughts, ideas, beliefs. Take, for example, this final paragraph from “Twilight Dawn.” The character, Twilight Dawn, has passed on and finds herself in a garden. A little girl appears who turns out to be her mother, who died when Twilight was born.

I picked up her doll, the old-fashioned porcelain kind. The face was colored like mine, the bronze of gingerbread. . . . I felt those little arms wrap shyly around my neck and her warm cheek press against mine. “I been waiting so long to tell you I love you,” she whispered.

The Book of Revelations may say all tears shall be wiped away and there shall be no more crying, but something wet as rain was falling from my face. “I love you,” she whispered again, giving me what I’d wanted all my life, but had never known until she spoke.

And then she picked up her doll with one hand and took my hand by the other. “Let’s go to the fair.”

I stood and let her lead me from the garden. “I reckon I’m finally ready,” I said.

We must be in heaven: tears wiped away from deep grief; going to the fair, a place of fun, delights, and a gathering of people we know and love. Yes, it must be heaven. Twilight is ready, leaving us to believe that though we might stand in the garden there is yet a chance to find the answers to life mysteries.

  Compassion radiates through the stories. In “The Bingo Cheaters,” the Flat Brush Women’s Club is gathering for the monthly bingo game. Irene is vexed by what she thinks is the other women’s penchant for cheating. In this smartly written story, we see all the players through Irene’s eyes and sense her frustration but eventual understanding that the cheating might not be what it seems. The other women’s compassion for Irene’s foibles reminds us that none of us are perfect.

Humor is a hallmark of Anderson’s writing; her wit comes through with simple, seemingly off-hand remarks said about or by her characters. Again, in “The Bingo Cheaters”:  “A West Virginia University extension agent after World War II . . . had attempted to present homemaking as both a science and an art, but the members were suspicious of foreign spices such as ginger.”

Throughout the story, typical of all in her collection, Anderson’s descriptions of characters delight: “The Basham sisters, the club elders . . . thin and hunched by osteoporosis . . . reminded Irene of a pair of ragged old crows.” Later, the women, “crow through their loose dentures” and later still one Basham sister declares, “I have to check the obituaries every morning to see if I’m listed.”

The Bingo Cheaters is Anderson’s second short story collection. This collection, as the first collection, The Well Ain’t Dry Yet, was published by the small, independent Mountain State Press in Charleston, WV. Anderson currently has a third collection she’s polishing. Again, as in The Well and The Bingo Cheaters, the characters in this new collection, Buckle Up, Buttercup, wander in and out of each other’s stories.

Anderson is a native of Appalachia, as I am, and her characters could well be too. They are familiar people, yet it won’t matter one whit where the reader is from when it comes to reading and enjoying these stories: the nature of these characters is everyone we know and some we have wanted to know. Not all stories, of course, are light in tone, nor should they be. Some, like “Solace,” is about young boys sent to a camp after trauma shatters their young lives. Likewise, the little boy in “Match” (who shows up at Camp Solace) is a worry because of his fascination with fire. Though they live in the County of Hope not everything is golden, just as in real life.

And how human and natural is the vanity in us all? Might you recognize yourself in the character of Margaret who, in “Foul the Guesser,” worries about aging? She compounds her problem by making a carnival worker guess her age. His guess is off by ten years—on the plus side. We can bemoan the fact, like the character Margaret, that our vanities sometimes make us gluttons for punishment. We can’t leave well enough alone.

Folks of all ages, women, men, and children, all live and breathe in Anderson’s stories. Their problems, foibles, and triumphs are ours, and we’re in fine company. Perhaps the stories can help us be more forgiving—to ourselves and to others. Each time you pick up The Bingo

Cheaters—to read one story or many at a sitting—Anderson’s universe is one we’ll be glad we visited. You’ll come away thinking that maybe life is nothing to cheat ourselves out of, but like Anderson’s characters, we should sashay right into it, embracing all its troubles and joys, and, if we’re lucky, discover that a little hope will get us through.

Cat

Comments

[Paul Epstein]

I enjoyed the book. Belinda's stories are comfortable and warm like grandma's quilt, but they have the bitter sweet flavor of rhubarb pie.

[Albert]

a-breed-apart