I have to confess, as I was reading these next two books, I was feeling pretty nervous at the thought of trying to write about them here, as they're not easily described or defined. Hopefully, though, I'll still be able to pull something together here.

maryltabor

"The Burglar"
"Passing Through"

We'll start with "The Burglar," as that was the first one I read. This short story, part of the larger work "The Woman Who Never Cooked," centers around a woman who comes home one day to find that her house has been broken into. Amongst the items stolen is a uniquely valuable and painful one to lose - - her late mother's necklace.

The story shifts back and forth between her perspective and that of the burglar himself. The woman's thoughts take an unexpected and somewhat disturbing turn as she begins to obsess over this unknown man. Of course, it's really not about the necklace at all...

For his part, the burglar is a pretty unexpected and complex character in some ways. It's not a simple manner of money for him. I'll here include a comment I left on this story. Since my comment was pretty long and I knew writing about this book would be challenging, I figured it made sense to include the thoughts I'd already managed to articulate clearly.

In some ways he feels like an overgrown version of a disenfranchised juvenile deliquent.

I don't know how many of you have ever seen or heard of the series "Naruto," and its sequel, "Naruto: Shippuden," but it came to mind reading the parts about the burglar's questions of what makes his existence real. The title character, Naruto, is a young boy who's basically a pariah. He had a demon sealed inside of him shortly after birth. This demon had caused massive devastation to the village, and because the people didn't really separate the boy from the demon trapped inside his body, they directed at him the anger and fear they felt towards the demon that had wrecked their village and killed their loved ones.

Throughout the story, the boy is constantly striving for recognition and acceptance - - "acknowledgment" is the concept that comes up time and time again. His ultimate goal is to become the head of the village, which would make him a cornerstone and essential part of the community. Early on, though, he instead focuses on pulling pranks on people. The current village head sees past this, though, and notes the reason behind it: the pranks are Naruto's way of forcing them to acknowledge his existence. They may shun him and forbid their children to play with him, but through the pranks, he makes them pay attention to him and makes himself a part of their lives - - albeit in negative ways. They may hate his guts, but at least they won't be able to pretend that he doesn't exist.

It also reminds me of a question raised at the end of one woman's anecdote about a lady that pretty much everyone in the neighborhood hated because of her lovely little habit of dumping her dog's waste on the sidewalk in front of her house. (I read this story in one of the "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books, though I can't recall which.) After trying several different approaches, the younger woman - - I'll call her "Linda" - - is finally able to work out a deal to put an end to the mess. The question of why the elderly woman behaved that way in the first place remains unanswered, but Linda believed that maybe the old woman's behavior was just a way of forcing them to acknowledge her presence and mused that perhaps it's better to be cursed than to be forgotten.

That's just one aspect of the story. Subjects like grief and sex are also addressed - - and combined. It brings to mind something I've observed before - - how sometimes when women seek or give in to sexual encounters, it's really not about pleasure in a sexual sense. It's about the desire for touch, for physical and emotional closeness and comfort. Women also seem to have a tendency to fall into relationships during vulnerable times for that same reason.

In the case of our main character, it seems like her sexuality was tied to her grief for her mother; her mother had been a curvy, attractive woman, and by being sexually desired, she felt more like her mother, and thus felt like she was bringing her back - - or at least drawing her closer - - in a way.

[ I think this is a good place to note that while the sexual content in both of these books isn't really of the explicit type, it's definitely strong enough that it's not suited for young readers. I think I would put it at 16 and up, perhaps.]

Moving on, we have "Passing Through." The protagonist is a psychiatrist who comes to find her own life and thoughts deeply entangled with those of her patient. As you read, you come to wonder if the healer is in any better shape than he one to be healed, and you can't help but think that maybe both need each other equally, or almost equally.

Mary has a deeply thoughtful and contemplative way of writing, and her works feel like they were truly written by the characters - - that have this sense of complexity and of really being inside someone's mind. Life and one's thoughts aren't always neat, organized, or complete, and her writing reflects this with the her characters' unpredictable actions, thoughts, musings, and yet-to-be-answered questions. This of course probably shouldn't be surprising - - Mary's work draws on her own losses and experiences, and she has actually included three memoir pieces in her book "The Woman Who Never Cooked." As I mentioned before, "The Burglar" is a short story that's included in the larger work. The three non-fiction pieces are not actually identified, so we readers are left to wonder and mull over where the fictional story ends and her real life begins.

She's also inspired me as a writer. One of the advantages that a book has over a movie is the fact that you have a lot more time and space to devote to things like this - - really delving into your characters' internal worlds. "What's going on in their heads?" doesn't need to be a question - - it can be answered, and vividly so. It's not that I had completely forgotten or neglected this - - I've already tried to incorporate elements like this in my own work to some degree - - but reading Mary's work has been a wonderful reminder and source of motivation, and it has helped me realize just how valuable an aspect this can be.

There's also something soothing and immersive about her writing. There's a steady pace as you wind your way through it, and it feels like wandering your way through a tranquil garden. (I've been to a botanical garden before, and this is what I'm picturing here.)

It also brings to mind another memory of mine...we used to have these radios that were solar-powered. They also had large lights embedded and could be powered using a crank that you would have to wind up periodically.

When it would storm and the power would go out, they'd be great to have around, and I have cozy memories of sitting around at night in the dark, listening to the radio play as I waited for the power to come on. I also recall the soothing sound of the broadcasters' voices as they would read out essays and short stories by various people.

And I gotta say - - Mary Tabor's stories feel like just the kind of thing they might read.