Jenny and the Jaws of Life: Short Stories
Jincy Willett
Language: English
Pages: 272
ISBN: 0312428103
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Jincy Willett is the high priestess of dark comedy. The classic stories in this collection cut through every convention, every idea of normalcy, with empathy and fearless wit, undermining all the old ideas about the happy family, the good son, the dutiful mother. In Willett's world, perversity and tenderness walk hand in hand; there's laughter and funerals, ambivalence in the nursery, and redemption for the wicked. As David Sedaris writes in his foreword, "I'm prepared to wear a sandwich board for this book. I can't help myself. It' just too good."
book is back, and I can once again go about the business of pushing it. There’s a singular joy in discovering something for yourself, a personal satisfaction that is numbed and cheapened by salesmanship. In spite of the pleasure I’m bound to diminish, I am prepared to wear a sandwich board for this book. I can’t help myself. It’s just too good. (That is so true!) —David Sedaris Julie in the Funhouse After I moved to Illinois, my sister and I wrote to each other once a year, if that,
perfect rate of descent, so that, for instance, the hem of her skirt ebbed and flowed with tantalizing discretion. So deliberate, solemn, and utterly magical was her progress that it promised to go on forever. When finally she touched down on the floor, upright, there was a little collective sigh of disappointment and then spontaneous applause led, I believe, by me. “Magnificent!” I said “Bravo!” And I took her arm and led her away from the crowd. I was half in love already and wanted her all to
square of sunlight, her face unrecognizable in fury, pounding her poor innocent stomach with knotted fists. “Stupid bastard,” she called it. “Stupid idiot sonofabitch.” “We can adopt,” I said. “That has nothing to do with it,” she said, with a venomous look. “This is the last straw.” She proceeded, in spite of all I could do, to punish her body with starvation and grinding, relentless exercise. It was an all-out war, having nothing to do with self-improvement, but in the process, and of course
underwear, but it was run the same way. Anyway, everybody was drinking beer and passing around the items, and cutting up, you know, laughing about the candy pants and whatnot, and having a real good time. Only all of a sudden this feeling came over me. I started feeling real sorry for everybody, even though they were screaming and acting silly. I thought about how much work it was to have fun, and how brave we all were for going to the trouble, since the easiest thing would be to just moan and
otherwise. You are a conspiracy loon, and if you think I have to humor you, forget it.” Ripley turned eggplant-purple, the cords in his neck standing out like buttresses. “This is an outrage! I’ll report you to the phone company!” “Phone company! What phone company?” Burt laughed bitterly. “This is Anarchy, buddy. This is Chaos you’re talking to.” “I know your name.” “I lied. Go trace yourself.” Click. Ripley dialed 0. “City Information Justine Speaking May I Help You?” Ripley cursed the