cover image I HATE TO SEE THAT EVENING SUN GO DOWN

I HATE TO SEE THAT EVENING SUN GO DOWN

William Gay, . . Free Press, $24 (320pp) ISBN 978-0-7432-4088-8

In this collection of 13 short stories, Southern writer Gay (Provinces of Night; The Long Home) confirms his place in the Southern fiction pantheon. Set in rural Tennessee, the stories pulsate with the inevitability of emotional pain, sometimes charged with fear, other times with limitless rage. Gay's characters are perpetually frustrated with the world's awkwardness and obstinacy, lashing out in bizarre ways. After shooting his wife's yapping dog and then facing divorce proceedings, the protagonist of "Sugarbaby" flees responsibility and commits suicide rather than face the music. About to leave town with a young woman who exudes "sullen eroticism," the downwardly mobile television salesman whose desperation animates "The Man Who Knew Dylan" deserts her at a bus stop, smelling too much trouble to handle. In the more ironic stories, natural forces stifle rebellion. The title tale peaks when an old man pushed out of his home by his son tries unsuccessfully to burn out the house's new occupants, nearly killing himself. Although the stories maintain an alluringly simple, spare affect, they are complex in their psychological underpinnings and their poetically described settings range from deep woods to shady towns to the half-junkyard, half-wilderness hell of the area known as "the Harrikin," to which several of Gay's characters flee when they reach the end of their tether. The very names establish authenticity: Finis Beasley, Billy Crosswaithe, Bonedaddy, Quincy Nell. Despite occasional rambling sentences revealing the influence of Cormac McCarthy or the odd false-ringing line of twangy dialogue, this collection is a fine showcase for Gay's imaginative talent. (Oct.)