Scan barcode
A review by kawai
Lost in the City by Edward P. Jones
2.0
I was strangely unmoved by this collection, despite the fact that it covers one of the most underrepresented groups in literature: namely, the African-American population of Washington, DC. As a current resident of that city, it's a rare experience to be able to read about a world that used to exist, which I tread on now in an admittedly (and sadly) post-gentrified time.
And while it made the stories more visceral and real to have them set right outside my door (or in other neighborhoods I used to haunt), there wasn't much else here I found particularly compelling. Jones' stories tended towards the modern, realist, minimalist style of much of contemporary literature: The sort of work we see from Alice Munro and other New Yorker regulars. Fans of that work will find value of something here; I have to admit, however, it's not my cup of tea.
Jones is a highly decorated and well-respected author, so I can only assume it's a mark against my personal taste that the collection didn't resonate with me. When a collection delves directly into the everyday world, eschews heightened tension, and prefers straightforward prose, I tend to lose interest. If not high stakes, then give me lyrical, inventive prose; if not that, give me some lesser mix of the two. But to leave them both to the side in favor of something quiet, slow, and minimal, and I honestly fail to be enchanted.
And while it made the stories more visceral and real to have them set right outside my door (or in other neighborhoods I used to haunt), there wasn't much else here I found particularly compelling. Jones' stories tended towards the modern, realist, minimalist style of much of contemporary literature: The sort of work we see from Alice Munro and other New Yorker regulars. Fans of that work will find value of something here; I have to admit, however, it's not my cup of tea.
Jones is a highly decorated and well-respected author, so I can only assume it's a mark against my personal taste that the collection didn't resonate with me. When a collection delves directly into the everyday world, eschews heightened tension, and prefers straightforward prose, I tend to lose interest. If not high stakes, then give me lyrical, inventive prose; if not that, give me some lesser mix of the two. But to leave them both to the side in favor of something quiet, slow, and minimal, and I honestly fail to be enchanted.