Rain Check by Levi Andrew Noe

I have an urge the few times that Kim and I step away from The Top Ten: Writers Pick Their Favorite Books in order to review something contemporary to have both of us review whatever book it is separately. We have similar views on many things, but quite different on others. Regardless, we each come to our own conclusions in our own ways and it fascinates each of us to see how the other goes to work on something we’ve both picked up. It’s almost as much fun to compare as it is to read the book itself. That’s why when I heard Kim was going to check out Rain Check by Levi Andrew Noe I thought I’d take a week to do the same myself.

Now, there are a number of different kinds of pieces in Rain Check, so I could talk about a lot of different things. They’re all flash fiction stories, but a great deal of variety can be formed with very few words. For example, there are both travel pieces, like this section from “Southeast Asia Blues”:

He took the 50-pound bag off his back. For the hundredth time Jack thought about the last time, somewhere in the undreamable future, when he would take that bag off for good. How his shoulders would weep with joy. He hated the hurt, how the hurt made him complain, how the complaints made him regret, and how the regret drove him to homesick laments. Traveling, at least his kind of wandering way, was a weary business. Jack had to give the aches and pains their place in this adventure. It was only fair.

and there are also stories in our backyards about young boys unintentionally causing damage playing with fire, like this bit from “Prometheus”:

He sprayed his arm again, with much more hairspray this time. He lit it and watched the flames dance up his arm.

“This must be how they do it in the movies!”

He danced around, trying to wave the fire out. He only managed to fan the flames. Then a look of true feat entered his eyes. He rolled on the ground, beat his arm on the grass. Eventually he put the flame out, but his skin was red and he was clutching his arm in pain. Tears welled up.

Robbie stepped toward Leo, but as he moved closer he saw the grass in front of him ignite. It was slow at first, he thought he could put it out by stomping on it. But more smoke poured out from hidden depths in the brown grass. Then flames licked at Robbie’s pant legs. He jumped back.

“Run!” Robbie yelled to Leo.

The thing that strikes me the most throughout all the different kinds of stories is how Noe handles the flash form. In all the pieces I used to come across reading submissions for Grey Sparrow Journal before they went pure poetry, I was always looking for flash that could bring forth a narrative emotional singularity. In flash, as I see it, you have room for one “note.” That may not seem like the same note throughout a flash piece due to reveal, surprise, and other structural aspects, but it’s all still the “sounding” and “resonation” of only one “bell.” Either each word, each image, each everything ties completely together into a unified whole to sound that one note and resonate and you get wonderful glory (barring fugue-like experiments where juxtaposition and contrast of these things is the whole point, but isn’t that really just separate parts of the same note anyway?), or the piece falls utterly apart and it doesn’t work at all. What Noe has here in Rain Check is a complete grasp of this, and an unfailing ability to bring it all together for the single note, whichever one it is at that time, each and every time.

This is some good stuff. Definitely don’t take a rain check on Rain Check. You won’t want to risk missing out.

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