Reverse Engineering edited by Tom Conaghan
Review by Claire Carroll
Sarah Hall, the award-winning short story writer and novelist, says that short stories are ‘all about what’s under the carpet’. Hall’s short story ‘Mrs Fox’ won the 2013 National Short Story award, and is one of seven featured in Reverse Engineering a new anthology / craft essay collection hybrid, which is out this week with new imprint, Scratch Books. Reverse Engineering is breaking new ground for the short story, offering a unique insight not just into the mechanics of writing exceptional short fiction, but the inherent joy that is to be found in the form for both reader and writer. As such, each story is carefully selected, and followed by conversations with its author: a little glimpse under the carpet.
The short story form is one which has the odds stacked against it, both technically and commercially. ‘There is a maxim in publishing,’ says the book’s editor Tom Conaghan, ‘that nobody reads short stories.’ Of course, publications such as this one prove otherwise, but it is true that short stories are often seen as concessionary to the novelist’s broader practice, or else the domain of the purely experimental. They are notoriously more challenging to write, too. As Jessie Greengrass says in the book, short stories are ‘a single entity, a single thought’. Many writers—Greengrass included—find that they require an intense level of attention.
As a writer of short stories, it’s not uncommon to hear people claim to rarely read them. My experience is often that people see a short story, even as part of a collection, as potentially not as satisfying as a novel. They worry that they won’t be able to be immersed by the writing before it snaps shut, that they won’t be given the time or space to invest in the characters enough. With this is mind, there is something enjoyably defiant in Conaghan’s selection of stories for this collection. The book presents pieces that have clearly been meticulously selected as those which deliver on character, plot arc and rich prose.
To open the book, Chris Power’s story ‘The Crossing’, about a walking holiday that takes a sudden turn, was originally published in his collection Mothers. The writer’s skill in creating depth of character, a compelling plot and a vivid setting are all clearly on display. The ending is brutal, arresting, arguably as all-consuming as a novel. I wondered if reading the interview that follows, and knowing more of the process by which Power came to the finished story, would dispel my enjoyment of it. I wondered if this sudden directness might initially feel strange, perhaps even counterintuitive—like the magician coming out on stage and explaining how he does the trick straight after the show—but in fact the reverse was true. Power, like the other writers featured, speaks generously about his process, describing the various iterations of the story, the technical aspects of his practice and how he arrived at the characters and setting for the piece. But, whilst insightful, these conversations are by no means conclusive, like the stories themselves, the conversations give just us just enough to be replete.
Irenson Okojie’s singularly brilliant surrealist piece ‘Filamo’ and subsequent conversation is another highlight. The story is taken from Okojie’s genre-defying 2019 collection, Nudibranch, arguably one of the most intensely original collections of the past few years. ‘Filamo’, an elaborate and strange piece set in a monastery inspired by the ruins of an Abbey in East London, is full of symbolic imagery, lavish writing, deep magical-realist intensity. The story defies convention and feels exciting for it. It felt important to read about the joy that Okojie found in writing the piece, and fascinating to learn that the writing, which is so fresh and otherworldly, was inspired by such an ordinary feature in the urban landscape.
Okojie is candid about her writing practice, describing how she often puts herself under the pressure of a tight deadline so that she can ‘get the story out. It’s not always good practice,’ she says, but somehow it works.’ This is perhaps what is so enlightening about the conversations in this book, they reveal there is no one way to write a short story, or one way to understand them. Greengrass feels that short stories are an ‘argument’, whereas Hall thinks of them more as an ‘enquiry. Okojie’s view is that writing a short story is an ‘investigation’. The common thread here is that story writing involves some sort of step into the unknown; a leap of faith on the part of the writer. Rather than have all the answers, Reverse Engineering shows us that the best short story writers are those who are prepared to confront grey areas and take us on a journey through them. As Joseph O’Neill puts it, following his unsettling comedy ‘The Flier’ which concludes the book: ‘Life is mysterious, and a story can partake of that mystery.’
Reverse Engineering is published by Scratch Books, 17th March 2022