EMERGENCY

Beauty and youth, desire and privilege are the threads sewing together these seven stories.

Alcott’s protagonists are often beautiful, clever young women from economically impoverished backgrounds who wind up with men many years older and far richer. Estranged from their families of origin and never quite at home with their boyfriends and husbands, these women are ill at ease and even suicidal despite their intelligence and acquired grace, and they must struggle for self-acceptance and independence. In “Natural Light,” the narrator discovers a disturbing photo of her dead mother hanging in a museum, which her father refuses to explain. Separated from her husband, who can’t tolerate her darkness, the woman wonders whether she too might be exempt from answering questions about “who I was or how I suffered.” In “Part of the Country,” the narrator leaves her husband because she believes he likes weak women and only returns to him after she has proved her strength by hurting him. The best stories here are the first and last. In “Emergency,” a group of women who collectively narrate the story excoriates their friend Helen, whose life spirals downward after her rich husband leaves her. “You can’t say whore,” they comment about her “conquests,” “and we would never say whore—well, once we said whore—but you could say without qualms there was trouble.” “Temporary Housing,” which plumbs the deep ties between two self-destructive young women, offers searing commentary on how vulnerable women can be. “Maybe we aren’t girls,” the narrator reflects after learning her childhood friend is dead of an overdose, “surely we were never children, but we might have the talents of animals, sensing everything that wants to kill us, and that we need to kill.” Alcott’s prose is cerebral and knotty, but patience yields exquisite insights about women’s agency and the corrosiveness of male privilege.

Stories that are worth reading twice.