1 5 4 Y F I C T I O N I N R E V I E W D A V I D G A L E F What’s by turns comic or confusing, real or imaginary, and has Something Not Quite Right? The literary genre known as slipstream , by definition evading easy categorization, hovers between mainstream and speculative fiction. Readers are never exactly sure whether the thing that goes bump in the night is a loose floorboard or a ghost on the loose. Though the term was coined by William Gibson, one of the originators of cyberpunk, perhaps the best-known practitioner of ‘‘maybe’’ is Kelly Link, whose first short story collection, Stranger Things Happen, came out in 2001. It contained such titles as ‘‘Flying Lessons’’ and ‘‘Survivor’s Ball; or, The Donner Party.’’ Are we in some fairy tale past or an uncertain present? Exactly what kind of meal is being served at the hotel? Has a minor character died or merely vanished – and how? Idiosyncratic lists and acontextual observations provide more intrigue without quite answering the questions they raise. Yet the style is authoritative. These are people and situations that Link makes us believe in, as in this G e t i n Tr o u b l e : S t o r i e s , b y K e l l y L i n k ( R a n d o m H o u s e , 3 5 2 p p . , $ 2 5 ) 1 5 5 R introductory bit from ‘‘Travels with the Snow Queen’’: ‘‘You enter the walls of the city early in the evening, when the cobblestones are a mottled pink with reflected light, and cold beneath the slap of your bare, bloody feet. You ask the man who is guarding the gate to recommend a place to stay the night, and even as you are falling into the bed at the inn, the bed, which is piled high with quilts and scented with lavender, perhaps alone, perhaps with another traveler, perhaps with the guardsman who had such brown eyes, and a mustache that curled up on either side of his nose like two waxed black laces, even as this guardsman, whose name you didn’t ask calls out a name in his sleep that is not your name, you are dreaming about the road again.’’ Link followed this up in 2005 with her second collection, Magic for Beginners, which drew praise from writers ranging from Michael Chabon to Daniel Mendelsohn. Link has also come out with Pretty Monsters, a collection marketed for the Young Adult crowd, as well as an edited anthology, Trampoline, which shows Link’s a≈nity for experimental work, not just in form but also in stance. Link possesses the literary equivalent of peripheral vision – like peering into a neighboring, o√-kilter realm. As the French surrealist Paul Éluard is reputed to have remarked, ‘‘There is another world, and it is in this one.’’ Link’s latest collection, Get in Trouble, contains stories with her trademark weirdness, including hints of magic and science fiction, yet these narratives take a few steps away from her earlier work. If they seem a bit less edgy (as in cutting edge and the edge of reality), they’re also more substantial, imbued with definite meaning and morality. Starting o√ the collection is ‘‘The Summer People,’’ in part a tale about elves, maybe, and the tactful handling they require. The teenage protagonist, Fran, acts as caretaker for a clutch of summer houses, but one of those houses has rather special inhabitants . As Ophelia, a schoolmate of Fran’s, finds out when she enters, they hoard items: ‘‘Dolls’ legs and silverware sets and tennis trophies and mason jars and empty matchboxes and false teeth and still chancier things poked out of paper bags and plastic carriers.’’ They make ingenious little objects, including a grotesque jack-in-the-box and a walnut-and-ebony iPhone case. They can be nice or nasty, fairies or fae. Part of Link’s elusivity, if that’s a 1 5 6 G A L E F Y word, is a refusal to clarify. Perhaps the...
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