Lori Hahnel was a founding member
of The Virgins, Calgary's first all-female rock band. She drew on this
experience for her first novel, Love Minus Zero, published in
2008. The music scene also finds its way into "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere,"
a short story in her new collection.
Perhaps more subtly, familiarity
with song-writing seems to inform the structure of these stories. Many
of them are examples of a certain shtick Hahnel has developed: breaking
a story into short first-person narratives and offering the same narrator
in alternating time frames, like verse and chorus.
The story "The Least She Could
Do" alternates Molly's voice with her mother's, like a duet, with the
mother telling us things Molly doesn't know.
In "Art Is Long," Julia addresses
her narrative specifically to an old lover, as in a ballad. "Now we
were on a date at a disco," she says, "you buying me Zombies while music
throbbed and pounded, your long legs tangling with mine under the table
(we didn't dance). I noticed the gold flecks in your irises." (28)
Like the words of a song you
can't get out of your head, that image recurs in Hahnel's story "Valediction,"
told in the third person about Elizabeth and John: " . . . the first
time she caught herself mesmerized by the gold flecks in his irises,
it was too late." (178)
Also popping up in more than
one story is a fascination with old movies; one of these, "Leading Men,"
originally appeared in the Autumn 2007 issue of Prairie Fire. "We Had
Faces Then" features a female librarian who becomes pregnant by a rapist--this
is nicely tied to her musings about classical Hollywood actresses who
couldn't get pregnant or had abortions.
That story is one of the two
strongest in this collection of twenty-one. The other is "Across the
Universe," which follows Maggie on a December 2005 bus trip to New York
City for a celebration that will commemorate John Lennon's death twenty-five
years earlier. Maggie has taken just enough time off from her record-store
job in Calgary. "This time tomorrow," she says, "I'll be in Central
Park with all the other freaks and losers and weirdos, and we'll all
sing 'Give Peace a Chance' or 'Imagine,' sway back and forth holding
candles, tears streaming down our faces." (95) But a fierce blizzard
forces the bus to stay in Thunder Bay.
Some of the stories seem too
short for their weighty subjects, like the suicides in "Rain in December"
and "Beware of God." Some read as if they are summaries of melodramatic
novels. "The Selfish Professor" is more like a dark joke than a story.
In "Poor Little Rich Girl," Hahnel indulges her liking of old movie
stars by recreating bits of Mary Pickford's journals, but interweaving
those with a brief story of one of Pickford's maids doesn't quite work.
At least two stories are hilarious.
In "You Tore Me Down," would-be writer Fiona bases a story on a break-up
she's had, and the "Editorial Collective" she sends it to turns out
to be David, the guy who broke up with her. In "Fiction Romance," Leah,
who loves Neil but can't seem to attract his attention, spends long
hours on the phone with Alice fantasizing about love-making with him.
The lovely irony: he can't reach her because her phone's always busy.
Lori Hahnel's Nothing Sacred
offers a wide variety of topics and people, and, shtick or not, each
is appealing in its delivery--something like a good song.