Stay Up With Me

Aaaah, look at all the lonely people!* Until about halfway through, the more I read, the stronger the earworm... then it pffed. Not the loneliness aspect—to my mind, that's the unifying theme of this collection—but the Eleanor Rigby part. These aren't just quiet invisible lonelinesses: some are loud, even garish; some pleading; or stumbling, or desperately reaching, or poignant, or surreally creepy. Each loneliness here, like each unhappy family, is very much so in its own way.

Hidden Brain recently ran an episode on loneliness but they focused on men; this book is more equal opportunity. Men and women can yearn for connection but be unable to achieve it: sometimes we lack the skills, sometimes we're too self-absorbed, sometimes we don't even have any idea what we're seeking—if we've never known love, how do we know how to find it? The characters here crave connection, or long to be seen, but are not always aware of those needs; they know there's something missing, they perform cargo-cult motions they've seen others execute, and Barbash so gently lets us see the ensuing non-results. None of the stories (ok maybe one) have clean resolutions; this is both irritating and satisfying. It feels genuine.

The stories form what I feel is a clever and almost effective arc; I write “almost” because I couldn't see that arc partway through, and came close to abandoning my reading. That would've been a mistake, and I urge you: once you start, if you like the first two stories, stick with it. You will be rewarded.

* I actually searched the Goodreads reviews for that line and for “Rigby”, thinking it was too obvious, but found no hits, so I claim dibs; that, or lousy search skilz.