REVIEW

The four fictional stories in Rory Say’s The Marksman sneak up on you (then smack you upside the head and follow you around for days).

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Say’s beautifully paced, controlled prose compels the reader forward, and his reserved, almost stark style serves his material well. The stories of The Marksman closely observe the world of children and the terrors that lurk therein. The opening line of the collection—"Issac stood in the dark of his cousin’s closet, waiting to be called downstairs for lunch”—is the first and last moment of naïve ease the reader is afforded. Instantly, we are ushered into a world where parents laugh and drink while cousins play alone near a half-filled swimming pool.

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Did your mind instantly go somewhere grim at the words swimming pool? Good, then you understand where this is going.

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And, really, which is the most horrific: the tragedy in the pool, the dissociative aftermath for the cousin who survives, or the parents in their Schrödinger-esq oblivion?

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Say’s answer is yes.

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The Marksman explores the reality that childhood is rife with gothic horrors. Houses seem alive. The adult world looms with its complexities and confusions. Its dangers. Children have little choice but to swirl in the whirlwind of their inattentive adults. Adult-free spaces are perilous, too, leaving young minds to navigate big situations without adequate language to advocate for their needs or fully articulate what is happening.

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The titular story disarms with this truth. We meet young Kate who has just lost her father by violent death and her mother by abandonment (or a very very long mass if we are to believe her cover story). An aura of violence follows Kate to her aunt’s house where her slightly older cousin Tom—who is fond of guns and seems too enamored with the tragedy befallen Kate’s father—attempts to domineer Kate wherever she goes. The story is Kate’s, but we cannot help worrying how much of her story will become Tom’s after our time with her ends. This stick-to-the-ribs quality is Say’s calling card as a writer. The stories end, but our interest in them does not. The characters and situations linger. The fears feel so very close at hand. Familiar.

 

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Book Details

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Published by Red Bird Chapbooks. The volume is 5.5”x 8.5” and is comprised of 35 pages including acknowledgements. The book is hand-made. The binding, hand-sewn. The edition, hand-numbered. The paper is deliciously smooth and hefts a pleasing weight.​​

 

The Marksman can be purchased here.

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