Tender Cuts

From surreal to wickedly funny to riddled with emotional resonance and, yes, tenderness, the stories in Jayne Martin’s debut collection of flash fiction pack a powerful punch. I think of stories as situation-specific in contrast to the novel with its long view in time and place. The often imagistic vignettes that comprise “Tender Cuts’’ run the full spectrum of situations—sex on prom night, beauty pageants, immigrants in flight, the shared places only BFFs can take each other when one of them is battling cancer, overbearing mothers who trample on a daughter’s sense of self, relationships between men and women, homeless children and bullied ones. Martin has a gift for those telling details woven into each of her compact, skillfully crafted stories, be it a straightforward narrative or one that’s playfully surreal (“A Lobster Walks Into a Laundromat”). The metaphor at the heart of the title story becomes a kind of thread with other stories (“Prime Cuts,” “Making the Cut,” and “Final Cut”) binding the collection, delightfully illustrated by Janice Whitby and Indigo Roth. In a word (or two or three), “Tender Cuts” is a spirited, witty collection that reminds us why less is so often more.

In “Tender Cuts,” the title story in Jayne Martin’s collection of flash fiction, a little girl dressed for her first beauty pageant awaits her moment to shine. It’s the Little Miss Soybean Pageant. Her mother is keen on her performance, more so than the daughter, Julie Sue, who feels the pressure to perform, knowing she will have to raise her skirt and show some flesh to win a little prize money the family needs. When the music starts, “Mama pushes her onto the stage.”These thirty-eight short pieces find children and adults, both men and women, at precarious, resonant moments, on the threshold of pain or already deep in it. In “All Hallows’ Eve” a homeless girl makes rounds with all the begging children; it’s the one day when she’s like any other child. In “The New Kid” a bullied fifth grader who stutters puts his hand on a gun. In “Zero Tolerance” the reader is given a glimpse of a detention center, where a child’s flight and degradation are quickly captured: “His body is still not found by the time we must flee” (father), “Ramon gives himself up to the del Cartel de Juárez so that mama and me may pass (brother), and “at the border, they tell Mama they are taking me for a bath.” These are cuts, all right. Many of them not so tender.In a few paragraphs Martin captures the exhaustion, hopelessness, and terror of ordinary life. There is mordant humor, titles that invite–”I Married a 1985 Buick LeSabre,” “A Lobster Walks into a Laundramatt,”–as these stories shift from first to third person point of view, from the lives of children to adults.Framing the collection, in three pieces Julie Sue and her family grow older, and, of course, things fall apart. “Final Cut,” the last story, begins, “The odor of charred wood hangs in the air as I pick through the remains of the garage. Most of this stuff had been Julie Sue’s.” Told from the point of view of Julie Sue’s daughter, who is now an adult, the story takes us into her mother’s chaotic world, a woman suffocating in domestic life who would walk into the woods and disappear for hours. Part of Martin’s gift is her ability to transport the reader in a few carefully chosen details–these stories are brief and incredibly tight. Another part is her taking us to a revelatory conclusion, which usually detonates, as is the case in this story.I read and re-read these stories, loved them for their craft and for their life.Tender Cuts is published by Vine Leaves Press.

My immediate response to reading Jayne Martin’s “Tender Cuts” is that I finally understood flash fiction’s place in literature: as the bridge between poetry and the short story.Technically the author’s flash pieces, some as few as fifty words, are full stories possessing a beginning, middle, end and satisfying epiphany, all of which fits on a single page. But the brevity and careful word choice of each work has the feel of poetry, and in some cases, prose poetry.And true to the book’s title — accompanied by simple, but engaging illustrations between each piece — the common thread running through the stories are sharp, sudden actions that cut relationships, leaving lasting heartache. Some create deep sadness, while others are celebrations of love well-lived.Wonderful!

Here is a book that demands a re-reading immediately after the first reading simply because it is so beautiful. It’s not “pretty.” It’s realistic, funny, poignant, bitter, compassionate, and above all, honest. These flash stories, these vignettes as the author names them, are packed with big issues, whimsy, pain and fun. Jayne Martin handles the big issues with an understatement that leaves a reader breathless.“Tender Cuts” is about relationships – mothers and daughters, mothers and babies, girls and almost-babies, grown daughters and dead mothers. It’s about broken romances, desolate marriages and love that lasts forever.Martin is a versatile writer. From the surreality of “A Lobster Walks Into a Laudromat,” to the gentle “Carry Me Home,” and the humorous “First Impressions,” to gut-punch stories like “When the Bough Breaks” and “Twenty-Eight Days,” Martin brings the reader along with poetic language and keen observation. She’s not afraid to expose the mixed feelings we so often have when we “should” feel a particular other way.Note especially the four stories that bring us highlights (lowlights, perhaps) of Julie-Sue, pint-sized pageant princess and restless soul.Also to love: the line-drawing illustrations that accompany each story.

There are too many gorgeous parts to this collection to choose just one favorite. Almost like a favorite album from your favorite musician. Tender Cuts wakes you, tickles, you, stabs you, and kisses you. I strive to be able to capture a notion or a scene as exquisitely as Jayne Martin. People talk about goals. Well, my goal is to be this talented someday. I love this book. I'd frame many of these pieces if I had enough wall space!

The stories brought to mind what Alice Munro would write like if she did flash. These are stories for women, but should also be read by men. There is a sad humour in these stories. The stuff that is hidden under their skin—the stuff we don’t always see when we form opinions of people. Makes us think again.