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caroline77 's review for:
How to Breathe Underwater: Stories
by Julie Orringer
***NO SPOILERS***
How to Breathe Underwater or, Feeling Like a Fish Out of Water. That’s what Julie Orringer has done most successfully in this collection of nine pensive short stories that concern girls and young women--captured what it feels like to be out of one’s comfort zone. In one story, a girl feels awkward in an unfamiliar family’s home during an unconventional Thanksgiving. In another, an insecure young woman feels constant discomfort in the presence of her model cousin. In yet another, a school girl is reminded daily of just how much she doesn’t fit in with the mean-girl clique. Orringer cut to the quick well--and therein lies one of the collection’s problems; the stories view the world through too cynical a lens. This author overdid it. The end of one story sums this up. Just when it seems a protagonist’s crush is finally, surely going to bring some light into her life, he doesn’t. Orringer ties it up by stating all will stay the same for this poor miserable main character. On the one hand, this kind of harsh realism is bold and takes courage to depict, but on the other, it’s unsatisfying for the reader. That’s just the fact of the matter, and authors should be aware of it. If they’re to be as strong as they can be, even the saddest stories need at least a tiny flicker of hope.
Orringer has much experience with the short story format; prior to How to Breathe Underwater, she was published in several literary journals, such as Ploughshares, The Paris Review, and The Yale Review, so it’s ironic that one of her bigger problems was that she was too ambitious with each story. She attempted to explore everything from drug abuse to teenage sexual desire to child psychopathy. In the first story alone she tackled three themes that are too emotionally complex to succeed within the confines of the short story format. Disappointingly, nothing in this collection is fully realized, and though her effort to do so is apparent, Orringer didn’t really say anything of tremendous substance about the human condition. These stories are too cursory an examination to hold much, if any, great significance, but she did want very badly for them to be deeply significant.
Orringer needed help wrapping it all up. Many of these stories conclude poorly or lack resolutions. This is not the same as up-to-interpretation endings; these are incomplete, as if she thought a simple period at the end was an acceptable finale. “Care” is a prime example. The format doesn’t quite work in “Note to Sixth Grade Self,” and the point-of-view in “What We Save” is clunky to the point of distraction. This story is one that, like all the others, is narrated by a young female, but “What We Save” needs to be narrated by the mother. Because she wanted it for her collection about girls and young women, though, Orringer forced it.
Rounding out the collection is “Stations of the Cross.” Orringer was enthusiastic about symbolism, and it’s heavy-handed in some stories but is egregiously heavy-handed here. This story also contains a factual error regarding the sacrament of Holy Communion that will be glaring to Catholic readers.
Some of these short stories end worse than others, and it’s odd that Orringer chose “Stations of the Cross,” one of the most disturbing, as the collection’s swan song. It was a bad move. All it does is draw attention to the overall despondency of the collection. If a few tears are shed by the end, it’s not because How to Breathe Underwater stirred the soul but rather, induced depression.
Final verdict: Fans of coming-of-age stories will be attracted to How to Breathe Underwater but should look elsewhere for stories that genuinely satisfy.
How to Breathe Underwater or, Feeling Like a Fish Out of Water. That’s what Julie Orringer has done most successfully in this collection of nine pensive short stories that concern girls and young women--captured what it feels like to be out of one’s comfort zone. In one story, a girl feels awkward in an unfamiliar family’s home during an unconventional Thanksgiving. In another, an insecure young woman feels constant discomfort in the presence of her model cousin. In yet another, a school girl is reminded daily of just how much she doesn’t fit in with the mean-girl clique. Orringer cut to the quick well--and therein lies one of the collection’s problems; the stories view the world through too cynical a lens. This author overdid it. The end of one story sums this up. Just when it seems a protagonist’s crush is finally, surely going to bring some light into her life, he doesn’t. Orringer ties it up by stating all will stay the same for this poor miserable main character. On the one hand, this kind of harsh realism is bold and takes courage to depict, but on the other, it’s unsatisfying for the reader. That’s just the fact of the matter, and authors should be aware of it. If they’re to be as strong as they can be, even the saddest stories need at least a tiny flicker of hope.
Orringer has much experience with the short story format; prior to How to Breathe Underwater, she was published in several literary journals, such as Ploughshares, The Paris Review, and The Yale Review, so it’s ironic that one of her bigger problems was that she was too ambitious with each story. She attempted to explore everything from drug abuse to teenage sexual desire to child psychopathy. In the first story alone she tackled three themes that are too emotionally complex to succeed within the confines of the short story format. Disappointingly, nothing in this collection is fully realized, and though her effort to do so is apparent, Orringer didn’t really say anything of tremendous substance about the human condition. These stories are too cursory an examination to hold much, if any, great significance, but she did want very badly for them to be deeply significant.
Orringer needed help wrapping it all up. Many of these stories conclude poorly or lack resolutions. This is not the same as up-to-interpretation endings; these are incomplete, as if she thought a simple period at the end was an acceptable finale. “Care” is a prime example. The format doesn’t quite work in “Note to Sixth Grade Self,” and the point-of-view in “What We Save” is clunky to the point of distraction. This story is one that, like all the others, is narrated by a young female, but “What We Save” needs to be narrated by the mother. Because she wanted it for her collection about girls and young women, though, Orringer forced it.
Rounding out the collection is “Stations of the Cross.” Orringer was enthusiastic about symbolism, and it’s heavy-handed in some stories but is egregiously heavy-handed here. This story also contains a factual error regarding the sacrament of Holy Communion that will be glaring to Catholic readers.
Some of these short stories end worse than others, and it’s odd that Orringer chose “Stations of the Cross,” one of the most disturbing, as the collection’s swan song. It was a bad move. All it does is draw attention to the overall despondency of the collection. If a few tears are shed by the end, it’s not because How to Breathe Underwater stirred the soul but rather, induced depression.
Final verdict: Fans of coming-of-age stories will be attracted to How to Breathe Underwater but should look elsewhere for stories that genuinely satisfy.