Lexical Apnea

Page 27 March–April 2008 LexicaL aPnea Paul D’Agostino i carrY a hammer in mY Pocket For occasions such as these Anthony Tognazzini BOA Editions http://www.boaeditions.org 144 pages; paper, $14.95 AnthonyTognazzini’s I CarryAHammer In My Pocket For Occasions Such As These is a collection of short, super-short, shorter-than-super-short, and, often, disappointingly short stories that, more than dutifully read and reflected upon, encouraged me to engage undutifully in the following acts: reread and reread, and so on, the back cover and colophon; count words, pages, and titles, with the “less is more” adage running relays in my mind; gasp for breath; long for sustained quality; and practice my cursive handwriting. I had specific reasons for doing these things while wading through and treading water in Tognazzini’s frequently diluted prose. Nonetheless, certain elements therein deserve some praise. Thirty-eight of the fifty-seven stories in this slim volume, published by BOA Editions, have already appeared in twenty-four different literary magazines. As such, a significant number of editors representing an impressive array of publications have determined that Tognazzini’s tales are both worthy of print and, in all likelihood, suggestive of the writer’s promise as a new figure in contemporary American letters. And they have had good reason to do so. Especially when examining the pleasures and pains of maintaining functional (or less so) amorous relations , and occasionally when narrating the differently pleasurable and painful consequences of quotidian escapism and fanciful flights of mind, Tognazzini can demonstrate both flair and finesse. His metaphors sometimes soar; his sentences can be lovely, fresh, astounding. These lines from “The Metaphysics of Orange Juice” are exemplary: “The rest of your day will squeeze by inconspicuous. Driving to work in the Cabriolet. The mailman will bring the same letters. But just look at yourself: hands like round hammers, eyes orange portals set to click and deliquesce.” Or this line, from “Impressions”: “Squinting, you could see his nose didn’t quite cohere.” Where couples are involved, however, is not only where Tognazzini’s imagery is most illuminating, but also where his fantastical musings are most skillfully bound to something tangible, where his elemental prose feels most inspired. From “Jane and I at Home One Sunday,” for example: “Our room is very small, especially when it rains. The clean light on the window is slapped away in gusts.” And from “Goodbye Now”: “Rebecca has on silver earrings and a green dress. Her black eyes shine like a sad breeze through olive trees.” A few other pieces in the collection worthy of note are “A Primer,” “86 Things That Happened Between 2:35 and 2:38 While I Was Lying on My Bed Trying to Take a Nap,” and “Baseball Is Dangerous but Love Is Everything.” In these pieces, Tognazzini’s playful style, subtle wit, and guileful imagination flow along with little if any filler. There is, however, a rub. Although Tognazzini at times displays something along the lines of literary promise, and despite its intriguing title, this debut collection ultimately falls flat. For in a sense, it mistreats the reader. While the short-short story format might work well in a literary magazine comprising various voices and variations in style, this collection whose thrust consists of such fragmentary tales furnishes its reader with a sort of lexical apnea, a stuttered experience, a shortness of breath whose relief might come from turning more than a few pages before finding a new title. Yet with 57 stories cramped into 126 pages of rather sparse text, such relief is elusive at best. In fact, many pieces top out at a page or less, and some of Tognazzini’s lengthier efforts, such as “Answering Machine,” are too internally splintered for the reader to establish a breathing pattern regular enough to take in what might be quite good. Moreover, Tognazzini ’s fragments seem to be, in a publishing sense, a bit premature. That is, the fragment is a form—if it is indeed a form—that holds far greater interest for a reader already familiar with a certain writer’s oeuvre; it can convey something of the writer’s thought process and...