Niagara Digressions by E.R. Baxter III

“The ideal reflecting pool is smaller, rather than larger…deep enough to suggest mystery and to sustain schools of minnows or other small fish so that these may be observed in the shallows.



Ferns, wildflowers, and grasses should be permitted to grow unmowed on some of the shore, trimmed grass in other areas….Mature trees, native to the region, not nursery ornamentals, should also be left to grow on the shores, establishing groves or small forests. There should be no artificial lighting.”

When I hit this section of E.R. Baxter’s new book, Niagara Digressions, I couldn’t help but think he was talking about more than simply viewing a landscape. The quote above felt more fitting in describing this book, a collection of stories, musings, and history by a writer who is unpretentious and honest. There’s nothing artificial or hyped up about his recollections, and there’s nothing showy in the famous names he drops.

As Eric Gansworth, who wrote the introduction, states, “this book, in its more unorthodox style, is closer to truth than most of those memoirs with which you might already be familiar. It’s an aesthetic representation of the way we really see our lives, if we are at all careful listeners and viewers, witnessing the way we perceive the world.” Baxter is all over the place (in the best way possible) in how he recalls events that were significant in his life, and ultimately, in the history of that region and even in literary culture. And the almost rambling path he takes isn’t annoying, it’s endearing. Better yet, he’s not one of those figures who nostalgically look back and whitewash realities that are easier forgotten. His voice is honest, and just as importantly, unadorned with anything extraneous.

In one part of the book, he speaks extensively about his Uncle Bill McCoy, cataloguing details of his life that tell their own story, right down to the personal effects left when he died. These included numerous photographs of his life at sea:

“Photographs: there are photographs of ships at sea, foggy, misty, too far off to be recognizable, street scenes, all taken from too great a distance to be focused on individuals, but more on the aggregate, picture of a lone man on a deserted street at dusk, almost half a block distant, nearly a silhouette, walking away.”

Somehow the description feels eerily poetic, filling out the stories he’s already told about Bill to make him both complicated and endearing. Besides colorful characters he’s known, and some especially dishy gossip about Ginsberg and W.S. Burroughs, he also speaks seriously about toxic chemicals in the region, the romantic life of red foxes, Shredded Wheat, dead foxes, the annoying habit of people who stir their coffee too long, and the beauty of flaws in old houses. The play between dead serious and wry wit is compelling, and makes you wish you could sit by a fire and listen to him talk. His reflections, like those found in the pond he described, can only have come through his personal perception. Yes, that’s obvious, but unfortunately, it’s rare. Few people can talk about life without whining or trying to instill some all-important message.

The title is based on his lifelong location on the Niagara River, and many, but not all, of the 'digressions' are from this location. From his website (http://www.erbaxteriii.com/), he explains simply the subjects about which he writes: "it all rises from here, originates, is foundationally from here, the place that increasingly these days becomes the imagined landscape I call home."


Ultimately, Baxter’s work here coincides with his vocation as a teacher. He wants readers to observe and think, to write well for having interpreted for themselves life around them. It’s fitting that when again, he discusses the reflecting pond, he asks, “Where are you in the picture, standing or sitting tentatively near the edge, staring down?”

Special thanks to Ted Pelton for the Advance Review Copy.

30 Under 30-An Anthology of Innovative Fiction by Younger Writers

The title alone tells me that I may be too old for this by about a decade, but I jumped into it eagerly.  And discovered I'm a lot dumber and decidedly less hip than I had hoped.

Edited by Blake Butler and Lily Hoang

The key is "innovative" and it really delivers on that end...the short stories that make up this collection bend all the rules, if not shattering them entirely.  Metaphysical thought mixes with concrete metaphors, and the result feels inspired and youthful, even if it all doesn't make sense.  Much of it went over my head, like hearing only the punch line of a joke and nodding amiably but cluelessly while everyone shrieks with laughter.

However, there is some dazzling writing here, and three I specifically want to mention, because they all lie outside the typical expectations about "good writing" may be.  For one thing, the iconic story of Robin Hood and his Merry Men gets an experimental twist in "When Robin Hood Fell with An Arrow Through His Heart" by Todd Seabrook.  The gang falls apart after Robin's death, not able to even kill themselves with their own arrows, despite trying.  "The form starts to go when it hasn't been used," warns Seabrook.  Having reached nearly the half-way point in the anthology, I couldn't help but think Seabrook was commenting on the very lack of variety and inventiveness in other forms of writing today, suggesting its "form" has already started to go from lack of innovation.

Joshua Cohen proves himself the master of killer lines in his part of the anthology, with seven short pieces all made visual and distinct with tight and compact wording.  "On Location" delivers the line "It is a common problem in our cities today -- When you don't know you're in a movie that you're in." After the unknown director repeatedly coaches the good-natured resident, not an actor, on how he wants the scene played, he finally tells him "Just do what you did.  You were so much better before."  This idea of playing along with a different reality and having the simple images of role-playing and direction juxtaposed, Cohen has created an amazing sense of truth to an unreal scene in just a few sentences, and concludes with the image of "a woman so vain she wants to look good even for the surveillance cameras."

My favorite of the anthology isn't even narrative;  it's a instructional/inspirational piece by Adam Good, entitled "Guided Walks".  In this he describes what can be taken from meta-guided walks, and how the randomness of phrases and word blends can create a new direction or seed of thought.  With supporting charts as documentation, he shows how reading, walking, or visiting with another person (or all combined) can create a new vocabulary that feels more real and vibrant than one expects.  Something along the lines of what Amazon used to call "statistically improbable" phrases that become a signature of a work. Mixing and musing become an exercise in creativity, but giving a starting point for a potential writer rather than an empty prompt.

The entire collection is quirky and bold, but it's in no way childish or immature.  From it's elementary-school picture day cover to the variety of ways text is manipulated, the collection offers a valid and respectable perspective of creative writing that is likely hidden from mainstream writing venues.  Margins, backgrounds, formatting:  all are subject to experimentation, with one entry by Zach Dobson actually looking exactly like a Mead Composition book that he filled in during homeroom.  While I admit much of it was outside my realm of imagination, I loved the concept of changing or questioning the status quo of what can be considered creative writing, and making something solid and real that can endure as well something more traditional and mainstream.

The Girl with The Brown Fur by Stacey Levine

Originally published in Gently Read Literature, November 2011 issue, with the title "Missed by Casual Contemplation"

“There’s such a terrible tension that exists between something and nothing.”

Such are the words of a tired nurse towards the end of one of Levine’s short stories, and it becomes a theme throughout this collection. All of the tales are unique, and not a single one complies with the reader’s predictions. Rather than being confusing, though, it illustrates the complexities that are present in everyone’s life.

The stories show a mastery of depiction—scenes are created that are completely unknown and sometimes impossible. So how is it that they feel so real? Because amidst the inconceivable lie basic truths. For example, in “Alia,” a young woman desperately wants a family. Yet her method of assimilating into the life of a friend goes awry. As her own personality submerges, she recognizes, “I was younger than I had been, I felt much older; and in the future, we would all become unimaginably older, diminished…”

“And You Are?” questions the identity of a time-obsessed woman who finds that merely going to the movies once a week makes life exciting. Her small-town life and her edge of hostility belie her words, as she reveals an unexpected insight (and possibly an explanation):

“The good side of life was simply better…though there were sides to life that were neither good nor bad; there were sides that were both, too; there was yet another side that no one could seem to express, and though there should have been no further sides to life, unfortunately, there were.”


It’s these other sides that repeatedly surface, at times just as a glimmer, in these tales. Perhaps Levine has discovered that addressing these realities through the language of make-believe will make them easier to accept, or grasp. Maybe they’re not even meant to be accepted, but rather to act as a launching point into thinking deeper than we may find comfortable.

In “Sausage,” an improbable factory of upside-down bicycles makes sausage by enslaved workers. At the point of escape from the horror, one worker’s experience translates into a slanted commentary on the pharmaceutical industry.

“Let’s now look at all the shame you’ve ever endured and collect it together as in a little half-shell, so you can feel it all at once, along with the fallacies to which you cling, and then, perhaps, you will see yourself more clearly.


‘We will learn why you chose to take on the guilt of another, and why you wanted to be more free, and tried, sometimes, to escape into sleep, with the white tablets you so cunningly ground into powder…’”

As a whole, the collection of tales feels like an exploration of the disparity between the inner self and outer actions that frighten us. Does anyone really want to admit that their identity, if replicated down to the DNA structure, may not appear the same? This can’t be read quickly and set aside; there’s another dimension that I fear might be missed by the casual contemplation.

Special thanks to Ted Pelton of Starcherone for the Advance Review Copy.

Thanks to Daniel Casey, editor of Gently Read Literature, for the publication of the original review.