It’s been about two weeks since I have read Carrying the Torch by Brock Clarke, and I have honestly forgotten most of it having read five books since than and with all the school work I have been busy with. That is not to say the book was bad in any way, it was just plain and rarely moved me to linger on what I was reading, which happens sometimes when reading short stories one at a time. I read fast, and sometimes I miss things that may change what I think about what I am reading, and I rarely go back and looks things over (there is simply so much out there that is good and great, waiting to be read, that I find it silly to read a book more than once, with a few exceptions in my case, like The Stand). That happened with this collection a lot, with very few stories standing out. From reading this, Clarke is like a modern day Cheever, but a little more broad and way more goofy, focusing on the oddball situations we may find ourselves in and the real ways we can get ourselves out. All in all, he is a good writer and storyteller, focusing on the people even among the absurdity. Having said that, this collection is very elementary, with the exception of the title story, which has a wife, spurned by an uncaring womanizing husband, take symbolic action with a symbol made of wood and red paint. It is very funny and happens to be a feminist tale that doesn’t piss me off. All the rest are very dull, and last barely longer than an ice cream headache. Still, I am eager to read Brock’s novels, if they are as good as the title story, and chock this up to being an apprentice work.
Rating: 4/5
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