Thisbe Nissen

Thisbe Nissen's short story collection captures snippets of love. Each story is wildly different in tone, age of the characters, geographical location, and chronological era. It amazes me that Nissen is able to write with such authenticity from such divergent points of view. Almost every story points out some aspect of the human experience that I had not heretofore considered, or had maybe thought unique to myself. Nissen explores all types of love, as well, not just romantic. There is the show more young man taking a road trip with his younger, special-needs brother; there are the parents struggling to deal with their daughter's anorexia; there is the young lady who cannot help but adopt one more cat. Each tale is poignant and descriptive without being flowery or trying to hard to be poetic. (That's a big problem I have with capital-L Literature, I feel like its trying too hard; forcing similes and metaphors in an attempt to be inventive and artsy.)
Each story ended a little too soon, for my taste, but I was prepared for that having read other reviews, so it wasn't as jarring or crazy-making as I might have found it had I just jumped in. Fortunately, though, a couple of the stories contained in this book have been merged and extended into a later book Nissen has written by the name of The Good People of New York. I do wish she'd do more of this. I'd particularly like to read extended versions of the title story "Out of the Girls Room and Into the Night" and "The Girl at Chichen Itza."
Overall, a quite satisfying story collection. Recommended for those who enjoy Literature without being snooty, and those who can deal with a lack of closure. show less

In the opening pages of Our Lady of the Prairie the author throws a whole lot at you – and it escalates from there. Phillipa Maakestad is due to drift into contented late-middle age. She has a career as a professor teaching musical theatre, a stable marriage and her daughter has found equilibrium – and a fiancé – after years of psychiatric problems. Then Phillipa starts an affair, leaves her husband and throws everything into disarray.

What follows is a romp through Midwestern life show more against the backdrop of the Bush/Kerry election. We see the effect on Phillipa’s husband, of course, and her evolving relationship with her daughter, Ginny, as well as getting a sense of the wider community – as she leaves her middle-class enclave and hangs out in bars and motels. In true musical theatre fashion, there are dramatic set pieces and reversals (invariably when she meets up with her lover, Lucius, you know they are not going to enjoy the uninterrupted intimacy they crave).

I liked the humour and the quirky characters, the odd vignettes (there’s a whole chapter where the narrator imagines/dreams a backstory for her difficult and enigmatic mother-in-law in Vichy France, which also happens to be Lucius’ area of academic expertise) and the willingness to answer questions you never dared to ask. (How do you cope if you have a heavy period while swathed in layers of white tulle on your wedding day? Read on and find out.)

But beneath the frenetic pace, there is a shrewd restraint. There are elements of the story that are left open, leaving the characters room to grow, and the reader space to reflect. Is Phillipa’s affair a reaction to her sudden liberation from caring for a seriously ill daughter, is it a perimenopause-induced rush of hypersexuality, or is it true love?

There is a sense of almost tipping into chaos in this book which mirrors Phillipa’s life, but the author does a great job of keeping the plates spinning while you hold your breath. This is an energetic, earthy, audacious novel asking us about the relationship between happiness, stability, and taking risks to pursue the life you want.
*
I received a copy of Our Lady of the Prairie from the publisher via Netgalley.
This review first appeared on my blog katevane.com/blog show less

A really enjoyable read, with great insight into what it's like to grow up in New York (I think), as well as an accurate portrayal of a mother-daughter relationship, and of friendships and other relationships as well. The author does a skillful job of covering a lot of ground, time-wise, and the characters seem authentic at every age: Miranda at twelve is different from Miranda at 15 and from Miranda at 18. Though we stay with Miranda and Roz throughout the story, other characters (with the show more exception of Edwin and Ben) come and go, and they're rendered in such a real way that we miss them and want them to come back. show less

Like William Adama, I am not a loaner of books. A giver of books, surely, but a loaner, no. When I hand over a book, I assume it’s gone forever, and if I really like it, I pick up a new copy for myself. This quirk is based on my own foibles: I am terrible when it comes to returning phone calls, emails, and good books.

Luckily for me, my friend Amy is a much more generous soul. When she came to visit me in the hospital (and when a friend sees you looking that bad and still gives you a hug, show more she’s a keeper), she brought her favorite book, Thisbe Nissen’s collection of stories Out of the Girls’ Room and Into the Night, to keep me company. [Amy and my neighbors Katie and Elena also performed many miraculous acts of cooking and kindness over those ten days, for which I am eternally and profoundly grateful.]

It’s simply wonderful. Every story is engaging, every character wholly realized. One story might make me laugh, and another might make me feel like my stomach had fallen to my feet. These are tales of the perilous nights and days of youth, ranging from cold midwest college towns to the Nevada desert and Manhattan’s apartment landscapes. And I’d almost forgotten the pleasure of reading short stories; like biting into a perfectly ripe pear, with the accompanying satisfaction of finishing the whole thing in one sitting.

That said, I can’t wait to read Ms. Nissen’s novels. Thanks Amy! show less