Love Begins in Winter: Five Stories

I don't read a lot of short stories. I tend to have a fondness for huge tomes that I strengthen my arms with by dragging them around with me wherever I go (they're too hard to read in bed, though - a problem). I like short stories, but sometimes they just end too fast and I want more. There are exceptions to this - I love Hemingway's spare stories and now I'm adding Simon Van Booy to this list.

At their core, these stories are about loneliness, the yearning for connection, the difficulty of making it and keeping it. In many ways these are people who can't quite remove themselves from the center of their own universe, can't quite let go and allow themselves to see what the world has on offer. Loneliness and longing define them and when show more they find a connection it is one of life's minor miracles for them.

All of this could be sentimental and sappy, but in Van Booy's hands it is not. Although at times it feels like he's trying just a little too hard, those moments are far overshadowed by his beautiful use of language. Most of all this reminds me of my Mississippi grandmother, Jesse Scarbrough.

My grandfather died relatively young and grandmother continued living her life alone - teaching and, after she retired, traveling all over. She used to always say that she "didn't need an old man to take care of." And then on one of her trips she met her second husband, Vernon. They were both in their seventies and had known each other in college - grandmother and grandaddy double dated with Vernon and his wife. Long story short they fell in love and had about fifteen glorious years together before Vernon died.

They were both amazing people - kind, loving, and giving. I can remember always thinking of them at times in my life when I was alone and lonely and felt like that would never change. I'd think, "Remember grandmother - it ain't over 'til its over." They taught me a lot about being open to love and connectedness and living in the joy of that. It's a lovely memory and was quite happy to read stories that evoked that for me. Thank you, Mr. Van Booy. show less

Five stories of varying setting and length, united by poetic writing about characters experiencing loss or gaps in their lives and for whom seemingly chance encounters prove significant and lead to love, of various kinds.
“Love between strangers takes only a few seconds and can last a whole life..”
They are profound and melancholic, but uplifting too.

Love Begins in Winter, 5*

“I wait in the shadows. My cello is already on stage… The strings vibrate when the bow is near, as though anticipating their lover.”

Bruno and Hannah live separate, solitary lives. Their pasts are shadowed by a dramatic childhood bereavement.
“Grief is a country where it rains and rains but nothing grows. The dead live somewhere else.”

He carries pebbles show more in his pockets and she has acorns in hers. They’re not visitation stones (I don’t think he’s Jewish), but they have similar import, and acorns always remind me of the proverb, “Great oaks from little acorns grow”.

Image: Acorn and pebbles (Source)

“It was inevitable that we meet. Like rivers, we have been flowing on a course for one another.”
It’s not fate, nor is it an accident, but “coincidences mean you’re on the right path”.
They have always been together, always loved each other, long before they knew the other existed. Words and explanations are superfluous. This idea is the central vein of all five stories.

“Music is what language once aspired to be. Music allows us to face God on our own terms because it reaches beyond life.”
Grief never disappears, but it can coexist with joy:
“The shadows remained. Gifts from the fallen, not lessening our happiness but guiding it, deepening it, and filling us with the passion we would need to sustain our love in the coming days. A gentle reminder that what we have is already lost.”

This story is in the same key as Nicole Krausse’s The History of Love: this a chamber piece and hers a symphony.
“Music is only a mystery to people who want it explained. Music and love are the same.”
Both stories have the inevitability of fate that isn’t fate and the circularity of time, but also the name Bruno, associating a brother with birds/Bird, and the significance of pebbles. See my review HERE.

Image: The hands of a cellist. Detail from Sir James Hope Grant by Sir Francis Grant (Source)

Tiger, Tiger, 2*

A toddler is humiliated for biting a boy she loves, so blood and love - and shame - are associated in her mind. As an adult, she tries to exorcise some ghosts by editing the journals of a family friend who was a paediatrician who wrote “The Silence After Childhood”, including the ideas:
“It is true the people we meet shape us. But the people we don’t meet shape us also, often more because we have imagined them so vividly… Every adult yearns for some stranger, but it is really childhood we miss. We are yearning for that which has been stolen from us by what we have become.”

The Missing Statues, 4*

Tenderly, vividly told, without quite slipping into sentimentality, but it is somewhat predictable. Nevertheless, I liked the contrast between the quiet hope of religion amid classical beauty and the desperate hope in luck amid the glitz of a casino.

A diplomat, sitting on a bench in Rome, starts quietly sobbing:
“An old room in his heart had opened because of something he’d seen.”
A young priest sits near him in comfortable silence, and gradually the diplomat tells him about an impoverished little boy and his mum in Vegas, waiting for the ne'er-do-well new boyfriend to emerge.
“The hollow metal rush of coins played through speakers. Drunk gamblers looked at their hands as ghost coins rushed between their fingers. Their lives would change if only they could hit the jackpot.”
A gondolier from a nearby hotel takes pity on them.

Image: Hooked on slots (Source)

The Coming and Going of Strangers, 4*

The kindness of strangers causes ripples in the Irish sea, on three occasions.
“Walter wheeled his hot, ticking motorbike up and down the muddy lane, breathing with the rhythm of a small, determined engine. Fists of breath hovered and then opened over each taken-step… In the far distance, Sunday parked over the village like an old mute who hid is face in the hanging thick of clouds.”

Walter is a teenage Irish Romany, though his family stopped travelling when his father had an accident and needed a wheelchair. Walter develops a passionate crush on a mysterious girl. He doesn’t even know her name, but he takes a gift to her home and peeks in the window. It’s too innocent to be stalking, but it’s not far off:
“His gaze like a net reached over her.”
She’s holding a half-eaten apple and “the white flesh glistened.”
But it is innocent, pure, unspoken.
Years later, we see a future.
“Every song is a shadow to the memory it follows around.”

The City of Windy Trees, 4*

Protagonists who seem to be on the autistic spectrum have become common, though I’ve read very few of them. It’s probably tricky to write in a way that is sensitive and realistic, without objectifying or mocking them. Van Booy manages it with George Frack, in his thirties, but seeming much older, and still scarred by his warring parents:
“Children at school ripped to pieces by their parents’ lack of love, shells of their former selves - and George burning with shame, wanting only to have his parents by themselves in the park on dull afternoons at the duck pond.”

His last serious relationship was with a stray cat.
“Like an understudy watching from the wings. George lived always on the verge of his greatest performance.”

Everything changes when he gets a letter, with a photo:
“Every photograph is a lie… a splinter from the tree of what happened.”
He’s poleaxed for days, but then takes decisive, daring, and uncharacteristic action. He wonders if he’s becoming the person he always wanted to be.

Image: “Standing Waves” sculpture by Adèle Essle Zeiss and Liva Isakson Lundin that creates music from wind. It’s in the windy city of Stockholm. (Source)

Extras

• Bakeries and baked goods are often mentioned, especially in the first story. One character in a later story is obsessed with loafers (footwear). I feel there must be some deep significance that I missed. The birds that fly across the pages are less enigmatic.

• I read this because of Dolors’ review and her comment that likened this to Billy O'Callaghan’s writing. Van Booy and O'Callaghan have five-starred something by the other.

• The first copy I ordered was covered in a previous reader’s annotations. They might have been interesting, but I didn’t want my reading skewed by someone else’s thoughts, so I sent it back. The subject line of the email confirming the return was suitably poignant and ambiguous:

Image: “Your return of love begins in winter”

• The replacement copy had additional material about the author and how he finds and writes stories. show less

This turned out to be a wonderful collection of uplifting stories about love, forgiveness, romance, family and hope. Each short story contained a character that had either given up hope or was at a crossroads in their life and had to make a decision or take a leap of faith or sometimes just open their eyes to see the love that was all around them and in some cases had been all along. They were all written wonderfully, very literary and lyrical with wonderful twists and turns that were at once completely surprising and then after some thought completely expected.

My favorite story in the collection would have to be the title piece "Love Begins in Winter". It was about two people who had each experienced a great loss in their life and who show more had only been existing in the years since as they dealt with the blow of it. Only to find at the end of it that they were still alive, that there were others that understood them and that life still went on and they could go on with it.

The one I didn't like, and the story that caused this book to lose a star, was the story "Tiger, Tiger". Mainly about a woman who loved a man but found they wanted to be together but remain unmarried for a variety of reasons culminated in his parent's failed marriage. The story talks about the work of a doctor who shared his experiences treating children who wanted to share their love with their parents in various forms of play. It also talks about how she plays by biting a boy she likes as a child so hard he bleeds and closes with her doing the same to her lover and causing him subsequently to drive off the road and into a ditch. I didn't understand that one at all.

The rest of the stories were wonderful to read about and talked about the pain and pleasure of love of all sorts, familial, romantic and friendship. It talks about the pain of loss and unfaithfulness, about forgiveness and healing, and about making all sorts of relationships work across all sorts of different family combinations and situations in life. Life is messy, and this book doesn't attempt to pretty it up and tie it with a nice little bow. It shows it for what it is and makes the love to be found there beautiful because of it. show less

In this superb collection of five stories, Simon Van Booy gives his readers a perpetually moving and emotionally complex ride as he examines several individuals and the relationships that change their lives. First we meet a famous cello player whose loneliness and singularity is abandoned one fleeting moment after a chance meeting with a beautiful and contemplative woman in the titular story, Love Begins in Winter. Next we fall into the midst of a relationship between a young couple who are decidedly against marriage after dually witnessing the death throes of an emotionally starved relationship in the story Tiger, Tiger. Later we travel to Las Vegas where a young boy and his mother are exposed to the tender ministrations of a stranger show more when they are abandoned for a night of ill-fated gambling in The Missing Statues. Next we’re taken into the fevered heart of a young male gypsy living in rural Ireland as he tries to arrange a chance meeting with the woman of his dreams in the tale The Coming and Going of Strangers. The set concludes with The City of Windy Trees, in which a man named George Frack gets some unexpected and life-changing news with the arrival of a mysterious letter. With Van Booy’s subtle wit and grace, his stories come alive to touch readers in the unexpected soft places of their hearts, proving that the offerings in this collection can be at once provocative and moving.

Every year I make a resolution to read more short story collections, and every year I fail miserably. Though my intentions are noble, I always seem to shy away from picking up these types of books off my shelf. Part of the reason I feel so reluctant to dip into short stories is the very nature of their construction. At times, they are just too short for me to really get a feel for the characters and situations that they attempt to house. Last year, I had an unexpected and delighted reaction to Deborah Willis’ short story collection Vanishing, and since reading it, I’ve been more open to the possibility of involving myself in more short story collections. I figure if Willis’ can be that good, there have to be others that I would appreciate as well. Well, I have to admit that I found another star in Simon Van Booy, and now I think I’m back on the short story wagon!

Van Booy has a way with the short story, let me tell you. Each offering in this collection is stylistically distinct, with some stories being verbally sparse and enigmatic, and others leaving little emotion to the imagination. The titular story, Love Begins in Winter, had a very French feel to it and was quietly understated while still maintaining a stunning impact. I liked the way all Van Booy’s words and scenes evoked a place and time that was to me unfamiliar, but was the perfect home for his characters. Each story highlighted a longing and desire of a different kind, and though most of the tales had a touch of melancholy about them, they weren’t overwhelmingly sad. All the stories ended on a note of hope, even the strange Tiger, Tiger, which had a twist that I could scarcely believe. And now that I think to categorize it, each of these stories had a subtle twist to them, giving them a little more pizazz and sparkle than your ordinary short story.

My favorite story in this collection was definitely The City of Windy Trees. Because of its intense subject matter and the elegant way it was handled, I found my eyes welling up at its climax. It was a touching and bittersweet story, with gentle and eccentric characters who found themselves in a very odd position. I marveled at the way Van Booy created this piece, gently stacking layer upon layer of meaning into a structure of heartbreak and redemption that made its way unerringly towards my heart. Though the other stories were excellent as well, Trees evoked emotions in me that felt carefully orchestrated and complex. And that’s one of the beautiful things about Van Booy’s writing. Though it’s not maudlin or depressing, it creates a host of strong emotions in the reader by gently drawing on emotions that all of us can understand and relate to. It’s rare for me to feel so enamored of a short story collection, but by the end of the book, I felt very close to the characters I was reading about, and though we hadn’t spent a lot of page space together, I contemplated them for hours after I closed the book.

One of the reasons Van Booy is so successful in these stories is because he’s not afraid to show his characters in various stages of emotional undress. Their sadness and their joy is palpable and clear, and in many cases, it’s the source of the complexity that I spoke of earlier. Things don’t always go as planned for these characters, and because of that, their natural and organic reactions to their circumstances become focal points. Any author can create a man in love, but few can make his reader ache for the man as he watches his beloved through a thick pane of glass in the window. Another thing I liked was Van Booy’s decision to take some of his stories in unexpected directions. I felt that this gave a lot of depth and relevance to the stories themselves, and created layers of meaning that would otherwise have been neglected. It seemed to be done very casually, but the effect was one that deeply rooted me into the tales themselves.

If you are a reluctant reader of short stories, I would definitely recommend Love Begins in Winter to you. Far from being pointless and dry, these stories call up great stores of emotion and pin them securely against the framework of interesting and compelling narratives that you are unlikely to find parallelled anywhere else. I’m a new fan of Van Booy’s writing, and because of his clever extrapolation of events and emotions, I’ll be looking forward to reading more from this talented young author. A great collection that might just revitalize your interest in the short story. Highly recommended. show less

And then suddenly an arm of sunlight reached through a high window and opened its hand upon her face. I saw her eyes as clearly as if we had been pressed against one another in a very small space. - from Love Begins in Winter, page 41 -

Simon Van Booy’s five story collection, Love Begins in Winter, explores the lives of ordinary men and women who stumble upon love in all its many forms. From the lonely and grieving cellist who literally bumps into the woman who becomes his lover, to the young gypsy boy who lingers outside the home of two girls who have lost their parents … Van Booy’s characters take the reader on a journey of the heart. Threaded through these simple stories are the themes of self identity, grief, longing, and show more renewal.

Van Booy is a poet and a journalist who has lived in London, Wales, Greece, Paris and New York City – and these experiences are apparent in his writing. Lyrical and stylistic, Van Booy’s prose is a bit like listening to a complicated musical performance – at once beautiful and elusive. He sets his characters in places like Montreal in the winter, and in St. Peter’s square in Rome, and along the steep cliffs of Ireland – places that invite introspection.

One story in this collection baffled me. Tiger, Tiger is disjointed and confusing, a story about a pediatrician and her boyfriend which draws on childhood memories and behavior. It is the second piece in the collection which, had it not been for the wonderful title story, I might have put the book down. I am glad I did not.

My favorite story in the collection is the title story: Love Begins In Winter. From the first, the reader understands that Bruno Bonnet, a cellist, holds grief in his heart from the loss of his childhood friend. He carries her mitten in his pocket at each of his performances.

If only one of them recognized me, I could slip from the branches of my life, brush time from my clothes, and begin the long journey across the fields to the place where I first disappeared. A boy leaning crookedly on a gate, waiting for his best friend to get up. The back wheel of Anna’s bicycle still spinning. – from Love Begins in Winter, page 4 -

Van Booy captures the loneliness of the protagonist, even when Bruno is in the bustling city of Los Angeles.

Further north, approaching Hollywood – hot dog stands with neon arrows and faded paint; tattooed women with chopped black hair buying lip gloss at Hollywood pharmacies; a homeless man pushes a shopping cart full of shoes but he is barefoot. He keeps looking behind. His stomach hangs out. Sometime in the 1960s he was delivered into the trembling hands of his mother. If only it could happen again. Los Angeles is a place where dreams balance forever on the edge of coming true. A city on a cliff held fast by its own weight. – from Love Begins in Winter, page 50 -

It is only when the cellist meets Hannah, a woman who still mourns the loss of her brother, that he realizes he is no longer alone in the world. Love Begins in Winter is a touching story about the healing power of love.

I also was delighted with The Coming and Going of Strangers which revolves around a love sick gypsy boy named Walter living in Ireland.

Walter wheeled his hot, ticking motorbike up and down the muddy lane, breathing with the rhythm of a small, determined engine. Fists of breath hovered and then opened over each taken-step. He would soon be within sight of his beloved’s house. – from The Coming and Going of Strangers, page 135 -

In this tale about first love, Van Booy provides a wonderful surprise ending that lifts the story a notch above excellent.

In The City of Windy Trees, a character named George Frack receives a letter which completely changes the course of his life. I loved this story about the renewal of the human spirit through our connections with others.

Van Booy captures the essence of what makes us human, and how love can be found in the most unexpected places. Readers who love poetry will enjoy this collection of stories which often feel like long, narrative poems.

Highly recommended. show less

I began to love this book, even though winter is far away... Ironically, Bombay (Mumbai), the city I reside in, doesn't actually have an elaborate winter season. Winter here is similar to European summer. But love somehow manages to visit and leave me from time to time. Let me focus on the object of my literary love at the moment.


Love begins in Winter

In the book ‘Love begins in winter’, the season is a metaphor for the state of mind of its protagonists. Love finds two strangers in the midst of their blues.

Rarely has text induced goose bumps on my rigid skin... 'Love begins in winter' managed to do just that. A short simple story where the moody poetic writing style makes the story special. At the very start of the book, the show more protagonist is playing his cello to the audience. Simon Van Booy elaborates that single line in such a way that the reader can actually feel every emotion the protagonist feels while playing his music. Nothing much happens in the book in terms of a plot and yet so much keeps playing on minds of the characters that it doesn't matter whether there is a plot or not. This is one of the rare love stories that touch the reader with it's raw emotional power without being melodramatic.

Love begins in Winter is one of the five books in this series of stories by Simon Van Booy


Some of the gems from the book:

Grief is a country where it rains and rains but nothing grows.

Music is what language once aspired to be.

The only authentic memories find us—like letters addressed to someone we used to be.

Music, paintings, sculptures, and books of the world are mirrors in which people see versions of themselves.

Music helps us understand where we have come from but, more importantly, what has happened to us. show less

I was introduced to Simon Van Booy’s work through a fellow blogger, and I purchased this collection of stories with high expectations. I also have a copy of Everything Beautiful Began After waiting for me to dive into, and I am certainly looking forward to that even more after this reading!

Simon has an elegantly smooth, lyrical style. The flow of his stories seems to follow the characters’/narrator’s thoughts, and thoughts don’t always run in a chronological or even logical pattern. I can see how some readers will adore this while others may find it a bit disconcerting. There are also some moments where the feel seems to stiffen a bit, perhaps like the author was trying a little too hard or maybe was just a teensy bit too sure show more of himself. Overall, however, I found his work beautiful, pleasing, and sophisticated.

I highlighted several passages in this book, a few of which I am including here. There is no doubt Van Booy certainly has a stunning way with words.

“Music helps us understand where we have come from but, more importantly, what has happened to us...inside each note is the love we are unable to express with words.”

“Greif is a country where it rains and rains but nothing grows. The dead live somewhere else—wearing the clothes we remember them in.”

“Another way to punish myself, to look behind for someone I feel but cannot see.”

“If there is such a thing as marriage, it takes place long before the ceremony: in a car on the way to the airport; or as a gray bedroom fills with dawn, one lover watching the other; or as two strangers stand together in the rain with no bus in sight, arms weighed down with shopping bags. You don’t know then. But later you realize—that was the moment.”

“It ends quickly so that we value it…” show less