Artfulness and Style

Reginald Gibbons explores the form of brief fiction with his latest book, An Orchard in the Street, and he does so with paintbrush in hand rather than pen. He captures his reader in each story with vivid descriptions and attention to detail. This collection appears to be an eclectic bunch of flash fiction upon first glance; however, every story functions as a still life, all forming a mosaic of human experience with one another. At the end of each story should be a long, quiet moment—just a moment—before the reader turns the page. It is in that instant that Gibbons's prose can be most appreciated.

The first entry in An Orchard in the Street is "River." This story introduces the rest of the collection by providing a metaphorical tool to assist the reader in interpretation of the collection itself. The narrator of this story is told, "Stay in the river, don't be afraid of where it's going to carry you, that's where you're meant to be." This piece of advice serves as a sly just go with the flow from the author himself. Not only that, it warns the reader not to get caught up in what we find on the sides of the river, meaning the narrative this book captures is not found in any one story, but is instead a singular body formed by all. "River" also happens to be a single page; the reader knows, from the first page, exactly what this collection entails. Gibbons plays the role of writer and instructor early on in his book, and he does not let up after the first page.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of this collection, carrying through the book's entirety, is its prose. Gibbons plants a rhythmic heartbeat into each of his sentences. In the story, "No Matter What Has Happened This May," the author smoothly carries the reader through each line. Each word leads into the next. "I love the little row of life along the low rusted garden-wire fence," is how this story starts. The rest of the story follows the narrator's thoughts as he appreciates every detail of the world surrounding him. Gibbons utilizes sounds, both in imagery and in word choice, efficiently and effectively. Following through the rest of the story is a similar sound, which leads us to the last line, "with the sound of that laughter and whispering in the last light of a day we had lived." The first and last lines, or more specifically the alliteration and consonance within these lines, tie this brief story together elegantly and neatly. Without his poetic style, these stories could not be told as powerfully, and it is not the action within this book that keeps you reading—it is the prose.

The myriad of images that Gibbons evokes are unique in their simplicity. He takes the ordinary and shows it to you in ways you cannot see on your own. How could one, for instance, see their home when everyone is away for school or work? He takes the reader into the mind of narrator after narrator, most contemplating what most would call the mundane, and crafts an intimate portrait of words. Each moment shared with the reader is given an appropriate and deserved emotional depth. It is almost unfortunate that Gibbons creates this intimacy; as quickly as the bond between character and reader is formed, it is broken. Left behind as we continue down the river.

One story in particular that takes the reader by surprise is the book's longest story, "A Man in a Suit." This is the first piece that deviates from more traditional and realistic imagery. Here we are shown, in the format of an official letter, a man (in a suit) that oozes to life from a pool of ectoplasm. After, the reader is again greeted with Gibbons's familiar and calm tone. Most stories stay away from such fantastical elements, but this story is still...