The Circus Settles Down

In "The Dream Tow"—the fifth story in M.O. Walsh's debut collection, The Prospect of Magic—there's a machine that can measure a person's DNA. It offers a complete analysis of an individual's greatest human potential, including what you were capable of, what you could have been. In the story, the narrator, Douglas Hubbard, a high school teacher, has a knack for whistling. "The first thing one should know about Douglas Hubbard is that he was an amazing whistler. A true wonder, really. Douglas Hubbard could whistle in any key and at any tempo he desired. The man was a gift to earshot, a bird in the forest." When he takes his turn at the mysterious Dynamix machine, it spits out a piece of paper that lists his "Potential Life Station" in two words: Whistler. Teacher. Meanwhile, the machine informs his wife that she could be an Arabian Princess, and his trombone teacher's reading indicates a future Special Ops sniper. It is an astonishing concept to consider, this speculative future that we all must have, and that really, we are unknowingly limited by unseen biological and psychological influences. We all suffer a kind of cognitive dissonance when imagining the proximity of our own grand dreams, and have difficulty facing the fact that most of us ultimately fall short. Because most of us are Douglas Hubbard, our limit rightfully stops at teacher or salesman or veterinarian. In the ten connected stories of The Prospect of Magic, M.O. Walsh reminds us that this is no cause for alarm, no mad dash to the self-help section is necessary, but rather a reason to take pause, and to value what we have now.

After the owner of The World Famous Ploofop Traveling Circus dies, the inhabitants of this roaming universe decide to stay put in Fluker, Louisiana, which is where all the stories are set. It is refreshing to read such inventive stories, and in an inaugural short story collection, it's quite impressive. Oftentimes, the expectations for a writer's first collection of short fiction are tales rooted in the author's personal experience with little attempt at masking this narrative direction. You won't find Walsh struggling to find startling impressive things to say about rather mundane occurrences. Walsh's aim is tighter and focused, and he's able to nail moving targets most writers know better than to attempt hitting. Walsh imagines a world that doesn't actually exist, but it could, and it might, if you look closely enough.

The title story concerns a teenage boy who possesses real magic powers instead of the sleight of hand trickery, and thirty-two-pocket suit of his father, Memphisto the Magician. The temporal quality of existence and life's blatant unfairness are themes that resonate through the collection. In "The Cat Who Ate the Boy," George Mercer, the husband of Margo the Mind Reader, who can read minds but not hearts, informs the narrator of Margo's latest reading. "And she told me to come out here and tell you something. She said to tell you that it's tough learning things aren't forever. You know, that it's tough learning mommas aren't perfect. Does that mean anything to you?" Then in the final story, "The Ploofop Refugees," George plays cards on the roof of his house with Paul Novak, the Tall Man, during Margo's final days, even she doesn't last forever.

This remarkable debut features blurbs from Lewis Nordan and Barry Hannah, whose playful influence is apparent, especially in "Waxy Maxy," a story told with the lawlessness one associates with Hannah. Further, the new residents of Fluker, Louisiana share a saintly kinship with the characters of Harry Crews's fictional worlds. Like Crews, Walsh is brave and unflinching when confronting human horror. And he's also gifted at creating spirited, unforgettable, and beautiful freaks, a gypsy, a boy with real magical powers, a man who can fix cars with his...