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Love Is No Small Thing by Meghan Kenny T his stor y collection demonstrates remarkable range for a debut—not only in content, but in the writer's fluency with male and female psychologies. In "The Genius of Love," a young woman returns to her family after a stint in an out- door program, where she'd been sent after caught making out with her teacher. "Elena was being sent home early…she'd accidentally cut her thumb off, right above the knuckle, trying to split firewood with a hatchet." The story is narrated by Elena's younger sister, whose empathy lies equally with her sister, having lost way more than a thumb, and her father, livid at himself and at the man who broke his daughter's heart. When the father announces to the family that he's invited the errant teacher over for dinner that very evening, everyone is aghast, each character having something unique at stake. "It's not a good idea," the story's narrator says. "Oh, good Christ," the mother says. "Oh, for real, Dad," Elena says. We've been dropped right into the world of a Ray Carver short story—humans, inherently flawed, enhanced or diminished by alcohol, fiercely defending themselves and the ones they love. Older people telling younger people what real love is and isn't. In the title story, "Love Is No Small Thing," a woman gives out to trick-or-treaters her philan- dering boyfriend's scraps of paper containing other women's phone numbers. In "These Things Happen," two older men, desperate to figure out who they are post- retirement, face off at a diner. In one story, a man watches his son perform: "…it wasn't a secret. My son dressed like a ballerina and jumped out of planes." In "Man is the Measure of All Things," a car- penter's drive up a mountain road to the dinner party of rich clients becomes terrifying when he is stopped by two men with guns. " 'Get out of your car and help us find what's missing.' " Kenny's collection is filled with such surprises, the stories going in unexpected directions. A man and woman on a first date stop off for a drink before heading to the morgue to identify the man's brother's body. " 'Dan's dead, what's the rush?' he says. Ice cubes shifted and clinked in our glasses." In "Winter in Wisconsin" two neighbors address long-held grudges over hedges, coming to an oddly satisfying truce. In "Man Is the Measure of All Things," when the narrator, Russell, doubts where he's headed for the night, he thinks, "…so which was it—did he want to be up or down this mountain?" This lovely quandary could apply to the whole collection—people stranded in moments of indecision, love being that moun- tain we collectively ascend and descend, either direction its own kind of struggle. Meghan Kenny is a writer to watch. When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams W hen Williams' mother was dying, she said, "I am leaving you all my journals… But you must promise me that you will not look at them until after I'm gone." Williams promised and her mother told her where she could find them when the time came. She had not even known her mother kept jour- nals. A month after her mother died, Williams decided the time was right: "…three shelves of beautiful, clothbound books. I opened the first journal. It was empty. I opened the second jour- nal. It was empty. I opened the third. It, too, was 96 C A R M E L M A G A Z I N E • W I N T E R 2 0 1 7 IN REVIEW B Y M E L A N I E B I S H O P IN REVIEW each character having something unique at stake. In "These Things Happen," two older men, man and woman on a first date stop off for a drink before heading to the morgue to identify the man's brother's body. cubes shifted and clinked in our glasses." address long-held grudges over hedges, coming to an oddly satisfying truce. when the narrator, Russell, doubts where he's headed for the night, he thinks, "…so which was it—did he want to be up or down this mountain?" whole collection—people stranded in moments of indecision, love being that moun- tain we collectively ascend and descend, either direction its own kind of struggle. When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams Familial Love, Translating Silence, and Tragic Loss