I'm amid "The Species Crown," short stories by Curtis Smith (Press 53), who is from Pennsylvania and therefore to be trusted. Picture postcards, these stories are, from the mind of Smith, intricate sketchings on the backs of matchbooks. The second-person abounds in a way that normally makes me uncomfortable, but Smith pulls it off, for the most part, and I find myself looking forward to returning to his pages. This is quite a collection.
I was sick over the weekend, a bad cold, and spent time revisiting Ann Beattie's "Park City" collection. This has been the year of the winter that would not start and then would not go away and that whole reality seemed to just infuse this weekend. "Park City" shot off my shelf and into my hands on Saturday and it was a good choice.
William Trevor is a favorite of mine, but to date I have not ventured beyond his stories (so much there, why go further?). But I went to the Newtown Used Book Exchange this afternoon and picked up two slim Trevor novels: "Felicia's Journey" and "The Silence in the Garden." Thus armed I shall see this ridiculous month out.