The Opposite of Loneliness

This book is a compilation of fictional and nonfictional works which I borrowed off my housemate ages ago and have been reading very slowly (sorry Jack, fortunately I know you don't read this).

   It's by Marina Keegan, an aspiring (and starting to be successful for proper) writer and Yale student who tragically died shortly after her graduation. The introduction, by Anne Fadiman, a teacher, mentor and friend of Marina's, sketches her vibrant personality and ambitious talent, and the narrative of her cut-short life in context of her work. It's heartbreaking. We feel we are getting to know this wonderful person, post-mortem; and this feeling only deepens once you start reading through her actual writings, which (short stories and essays both) swell to almost bursting with the marks of an incredible human soul. A powerful intellect, a penetrating emotional insight, a myriad unexpected nuances of attitude or relationship expressed in her arguments and characters, a deep undercurrent of optimism and hope and above all a joyous youthful sense of delight in possibility: even though most of the works here range from quite to extremely sad, Marina Keegan's bubbling positivity and brilliance as a writer keep them from sinking the reader. The effect of each individual short story or essay is gutwrenching and heartwarming, often at several points throughout, sometimes simultaneously. She has a subtle sense of humour that doesn't evoke laughter but rather a forced intensive burst of empathy.

   What can I say? These short stories and essays are so diverse in tone, content and voice that the collection stands as a remarkable achievement, a testament to the sheer skill and specialness of their author. Without the neat page-partition between fiction and nonfiction I'm not entirely sure I could've stated which was what, so overlapping in style and themes are these works. The fictions cover such different stories and genres as the final days of people trapped on a broken-down submarine, a man's fleeting doubts about proposing to his girlfriend while reclaiming baggage, a housing developer facing worsening conditions in Baghdad (written in form an email chain); several others are more grounded in typical young-westerner-life-experience - and while I enjoyed these latter type more, all are immaculately crafted and poignant pieces. Cold Pastoral, the first short story in the book (also, don't tell the publisher but it's here online for free), is by far the most memorable and moving, though I also enjoyed The Ingenue above the rest. Same for her nonfiction: memoirs about the nostalgic value of clutter in a teenager's car, a sympathetic portrait of an exterminator who loves his job but is wounded that nobody else does, a reflection upon coeliac disease and maternal perfectionism. Similar to the short stories most closely about young westerners, it is those few other essays that are less topic-oriented and more openly reflective and exploratory of one's place in the world that truly shine: Putting the "Fun" Back in Eschatology and Song for the Special read one after the other are awe-inspiringly idealistic, Even Artichokes Have Doubts (my personal favourite, a rallying cry of 'is this really what we want?' having surveyed the bleak corporate landscape of graduate prospects, check it out) an interesting train of thought, and definitely, the titular and introductory essay, The Opposite of Loneliness (also online), which emulates in almost pure form the frozen-in-time sense of what Marina Keegan felt like to be a privileged smart happy twenty-two year-old.

   Even though each particular essay and short story is brilliant, I found myself growing mournful as I neared the end of the book, as each chapter adds another layer to the delicate mental-origami-sculpture of Marina Keegan's personality that readers can't help but construct, so well do these works seem to introduce us to a real human sensitivity and wit, and knowing the actual fate of the author set against these varyingly-polished but consistently beautiful gems that she's written, well, it's saddening, and yet somehow invigorating. That she should be dead when her work is so tangibly brimming with life. It stings. I dunno. You should probably read this book.