A review by margaret_adams
Thunderstruck & Other Stories by Elizabeth McCracken

So many great lines, so many great paragraphs. Three of these stories, somehow, came out of the ashes of a failed novel, though you'd never know it if the author hadn't revealed this in an interview at the back of the book. This collection was the winner of the 2015 Story Prize and long-listed for the National Book Award. This was my first time reading Elizabeth McCracken's work.

Favorites:
The House of Two Three-Legged Dogs
The Lost & Found Department of Greater Boston

Quotes:
"We were two cripplingly shy, witheringly judgemental people who fell in love in private, away from the voncersation and caution of other people, and then we left town before anyone could warn us."

"Listen: don't tell me otherwise. It was not nice love, it was not good love, but you cannot tell me that it wasn't love. Love is not oxygen, though many songwriters will tell you that it is; it is not a chemical substance that is either definitively present or absent; it cannot be reduced to its parts. It is not like a flower, or an animal, or anything that you will ever be able to recognize when you see it. Love is food. That's all. Neither better nor worse. Sometimes very good. Sometimes terrible. But to say--as people will--that wasn't love. As though that makes you feel better! Well, it might not have been nourishing, but it sustained me for a while."

"The finger-biter's feelings for her ex-husband were a bonsai tree--they may have started in something real, but she'd tended them so closely and for so long they were now purely decorative."

"Missing: former self. Distinguishing marks: expectations of fame, ability to demand love. Last seen wearing: hopeful expression, uncomfortable shoes."

"He tried to send her a message on brain waves. Whatever you were thinking of: think of me. Another thing technology had ruined, the ability to dial a number, let it ring, hang up. How often had he done that, only wanting to change what a girl was thinking, without her knowing he was the one who'd done it."

"Well, after all: he’d had the width of three arrondissements to walk, getting ready to see Helen. As a child he’d been fascinated by the bends—what scuba drivers got when they came to the surface the ocean too fast to acclimate their lungs to ordinary pressure. You had to be taken from place to place with care. Laura had gone from apartment to taxicab to hospital too quickly. Of course she couldn’t breathe."