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Excerpt: from Joe Meno's book of short stories Tender as Hellfire
A Stop Smiling Author Event Spotlight
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
On Thursday, Oct. 22, STOP SMILING and Chicago Public Radio will present An October Sort of City: Chicago Authors Talk Chicago, an event that will showcase four Chicago authors rhapsodizing about the city that shaped their lives and work. Click here for event details.
The following is an excerpt from Tender as Hellfire (Akashic Books), a collection of short stories by Joe Meno. Meno will present his work at the event along with authors Deb Olin Unferth, Cristina Henríquez and Eula Biss.
Click here for an excerpt from Cristina Henríquez's novel, The World In Half
Click here to read an excerpt from Deb Olin Unferth's novel, Vacation
Click here to read an excerpt from Eula Biss' book of essays, Notes From No Man's Land
From "The Birthday Surprise" in Tender as Hellfire:
Me, I turned eleven without a sound. It was my first birthday away from Duluth and I felt hopeless spending it with just Pill and my folks. There would be no party with streamers and foil, no stupid party games like Pin the Tail on the Donkey or Spin the Bottle, no birthday kisses from the older girls on my old block. Worst of all, I guess, there’d be no extra presents, all wrapped up nice and neat in newspaper and bows, no gifts from the other kids in my class who I might have invited. My eleventh birthday was going to be spent with my lousy family in a lousy new town.
It just happened to fall on a Saturday, September 28, so my mother was real sweet and made everyone keep quiet to let me sleep in late. But that damn dog woke me up anyway. I didn’t really care. My mom was going to make a huge dinner of all of my favorites: pork chops and applesauce and a huge chocolate cake. It all sounded great. I was going to lay around the trailer all day and watch a kung fu movie or an old black-and-white monster show because it was my eleventh birthday and French said I could watch what I pleased. But then, about two hours after I woke up, just as I was settling into that lumpy sofa with a nice can of grape soda, well, then there was the most awful surprise, the sound of which started with a knock against the screen door.
“Hello? Is anyone home?!” came the whiny voice. I sat up and rolled my eyes.
“Hello, Marie!” my mother screamed, shoving the chocolate cake into the oven, dropping her green cooking mitts to the floor. She fumbled at the latch and pushed the screen door open wide. I shook my goddamn head because just then I could smell my aunt’s horrible pink perfume like some sort of invisible claw choking my throat. I knew, oh brother, I knew it was my Aunt Marie and all her stupid kids.
Aunt Marie was my father’s older sister. They had both been born and raised in Duluth. By the time my dad was old enough to drive, both of his parents had died, so Aunt Marie thought it was her duty to raise her younger brother, who took more joy in first fighting and kissing girls than anything else.
At the age of twenty-two, my old man married my mom, according to Pill, because he had knocked her up. Since she was pregnant when she got married and didn’t insist on a church wedding, Aunt Marie never forgave my mother. After Pill was born, my old man began doing odd jobs, in addition to working ten to twelve hours a day as an auto mechanic. Mostly, he fenced stolen goods. My mother took care of her baby, cut her neighbors’ hair, and started going to church as often as she could. A few years later, I guess they had me, and by then my old man had gotten his trucking license and was working pretty steadily. But the way my aunt saw it, my father had always been a hoodlum and it was only a matter of time before it all caught up with him, leaving us to fend for ourselves, which is exactly what happened.
“Where’s the birthday boy?” my aunt asked with a grin. Her face was so big and round that her eyes seemed like two soft black dots pressed into her flesh. Her nose was tiny and snub, and her damn perfume made me sick as she hugged me. I could feel the ridges of her lips as she squeezed me hard and planted the most greasy kiss on my cheek. “How does it feel to be eleven?”