I read and loved this book back in January. Months later, I still have the book next to my bed and reread the stories often. Searching through old files on my computer, I came across these impressions I wrote down when I first read each story.

Notes on Deesha Philyaw’s “The Secret Lives of Church Ladies”

EULA

I often don’t like short stories. I like to sink into a novel. I don’t like ambiguous endings and frankly, short stories often leave me going, “huh?” It took me a long time to arrive at the conclusion that I’m not stupid; this is just not my preferred mode of reading.

But this short story is what short stories could be. A few pages, a little slice of life, and I don’t know exactly what the main character looks like or how she decorates her home, but I feel I know this one important aspect of her life, intimately and deeply.

It makes me think that the reason I’ve never written a short story I’m happy with is that my scope is too large; I’m trying to cram in a plot with multiple developments, and multiple characters. This story focuses like a laser on the main character and the primary relationship in her life. It does follow an arc, with a climax where the characters have a conversation they’ve been skirting around for years. But it shines a spotlight so specifically on this relationship, so that we know the rest is there but we don’t get distracted wondering about it.

Can’t wait to read more.

NOT-DANIEL

I love the title – we never learn the man’s name, just that he was someone she thought she once knew, and someone with whom she can let out a breath because they are experiencing the same thing. No explanations or pity needed.

And the last line hit me: “And then I laughed, even though I felt like I shouldn’t have. Even though nothing was as it should be.”

I’m reading this on Inauguration Day, and this story about tension and worry and momentary release is resonating with me. It’s perfectly summed up by that last line.

DEAR SISTER

Like Not-Daniel, a bare description of this story’s action has little to do with what the story is about.

In Not-Daniel, the action is: two people have sex in a car outside a hospital. But it’s about what you do to keep your head above water in those moments when you can’t think about how everything is too hard.

In Dear Sister, the action is: when a father dies, his daughter writes a letter to her newly discovered half-sister. But it’s a portrait of a family, five sisters who have each other’s backs, and the grandmother who raised them, and their generosity in making room for more.

I wasn’t sure at first whether the format worked for me. The whole story is written as a letter, and at first it seemed forced to me – people don’t write letters like that, with evocative descriptions and carefully written dialogue. But I liked it by the end, when the narrator explains, I want you to know us. By the end I felt like I knew them. Like if a friend described her family to me this way, and then I went home with her, I would know exactly who was who.

PEACH COBBLER

When I’m figuring out a story, I walk for miles, talking out loud to myself, muttering, “No, that doesn’t make sense,” and “Yes!” (That’s when I head home to write it down.)

I could imagine the author doing this for Peach Cobbler, which is so intricately crafted. The parallels and intersections between the narrator’s experiences and desires and what she does because she’s forced to; and her mother’s; and the preacher’s, and his wife and son – I was grateful to just be able to read and let it wash over me rather than pace for miles figuring it all out.

So far this story has the largest scope, covering years of a girl’s life and her complex and evolving understanding of love and sex, what her mother wants and is willing to do for her, what her life may have in store. I loved the ending, where she defies her mother – but as a woman closer in age to her mother, I felt sad for her, this girl who at eighteen has unfounded high hopes.

I also loved that this story is not about the mother, but we learn so much about how her daughter sees her that we can imagine what her life has been like, how she sees herself, and how that’s reflected in the way she raises her child. There are so many stories of people who protect their heart after they’ve been hurt. Here we see the mother protecting her daughter in the exact same way, and the damage that does.

HOW TO MAKE LOVE TO A PHYSICIST

Here’s where I admit I skipped around in this collection, which I know is not the author’s intent; it’s like back when there were albums and CD players introduced the concept of “shuffling,” and it introduces novelty but ruins pacing and connectivity. So anyway, I read “Instructions for Married Christian Husbands” before this, and because of the similarity of the titles – instructions, how to – I assumed these stories would be similar. I was surprised to find, instead, that this story is about the narrator prioritizing herself. Twice, she jeopardizes a budding relationship by giving herself the time and space she needs, acknowledging that she may be hurting the man she’s in a relationship with, but doing the necessary work on herself. And the happy ending is that she takes care of herself; she learns and grows on her own. At the end she’s partnered, but that’s not the point. The main thing we know about him is that he is willing to wait for her.

The one thing I didn’t like about this story was her partner’s infinite patience; I always knew it was you, I was willing to give you all the time and space you needed. You hurt me but I will always forgive you. I have trouble believing that kind of unconditional romantic love among adults is real and part of me doesn’t even want to believe it could be real.

Also, second person POV? Amazing. Seamless.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR MARRIED CHRISTIAN HUSBANDS

This entire book is like a master class on short story writing. Imperative mood!

This story was heartbreaking because of the callback to Peach Cobbler: “I grew up watching my mother eating the crumbs and leftovers from another woman’s table. I swore I never would. But here I am grubbing, licking the edges.” Three sentences of regret in a sea of toughness.

JAEL

First reading: I have to be honest, not my favorite. (Still great. Just not my favorite in this book.)

Read it again after learning about the Bible story and appreciated it so much more. Reminded me of Madeleine Miller’s Circe: both are neglected, devalued, and lied to as girls, and their powers come out in frightening – but strangely sympathetic – ways.