Eclipse: Stories (review)

take us on a walking tour past twenty-five years of landmarks, people, memories, and musings and give the reader some sense of this special and nurturing place. —Jane Hicks Bryner, Jeanne. Eclipse: Stories. Huron, Ohio: Bottom Dog Press, 2003. 149 pages. Paperback. $12.95. In Eclipse Jeanne Bryner writes, "Poetry is the flower you stumble across growing near the barn, a purple bloom that nobody planted" (90). These stories are stories told by a poet, and Bryner's prose poetry infuses this collection. Bryner's poet's vision creates vignettes from 85 events in the everyday lives of Appalachians who stayed in the mountains and stories of those who were a part of the out-migration to Ohio: stories that will twist and squeeze your heart, sometimes breaking it in two, sometimes filling it with joy. Bryner's prose is spare. She writes of the choices of a moment when "things happen that can never be turned around" (132), of random events that often would be no one's choice, but that change lives, and of the hope and wisdom it takes to live with those events. And she writes of the joy of success, the respect that all people deserve, and the pleasure that comes with living and loving deeply. The minor errors and formatting problems of the book itself not caught during editing are easily overlooked because of the richness of the stories themselves. Whether told through a child's eyes as is "First Base," by an adult seeking the strength and peace to continue a life as in "Red Corvette," or, as in "Foxglove Canyon," through the perceptions of a woman holding the wisdom of years, the narrative voice is clear and strong; events are carefully chosen and stunningly effective. Bryner's stories demonstrate a strong legacy of Appalachian men and women: the ability to survive during times when, because of loss, grief or fear, survival seems impossible. Her characters are people who know how to take the joys of everyday life and make the most of them. As a nurse Bryner has observed extreme emotions and has had to live with the impact of them, making her evocation of emotion particularly strong and very wise. Bryner's characters show the respect for self and others that allows people to accept difference. Whether in the milltowns of Ohio or rural West Virginia, her characters engage the reader's heart. Often bittersweet, they speak in celebration of life: its joys, its ironies, and its sorrows. Like Joe Martin in "Kolobos," the opening story of the collection, who wants "to shed his sadness," "leave it behind, the bitter skin of sorrow before he [goes] home to his wife and girls," (8) Bryner's stories help us grieve and to shed our sadness, and to celebrate everyday joys. Bryner's stories are told so softly that we must listen hard. In "Seat Them with Princes," we share Virgil's dread when his teacher sends a note that he must return signed. We sympathize with Virgil as he worries. We share his bewilderment when the expected punishment doesn't come, but his mother hugs him so hard it nearly makes his oatmeal cookie "come back up" (107). And because we are subtly told of his poverty—using hot biscuits rather than gloves to keep his hands warm on the way to school on a cold winter day—we are able to feel 86 his great pride in the new shoes his teacher buys for him. Race doesn't matter in this story; respect does, for Virgil feels that Miss Lemley, his teacher who is "the color of chestnuts winter and summer," "could be next year's queen of the Jack Town fair" if only she didn't wear glasses (105). And, understanding his pride, Miss Lemley tells Virgil that the new shoes and boots are a secret, a good secret that his mama knows, "but something that we need never tell, even to Jess" (108). Bryner carefully selects details that make us care about her characters in stories as brief as "Call Each by Name." We are caught in the narrator's chagrin because she has to watch her uncle...