Joshua Ferris

September 3, 2008

I just discovered this new writer– I don’t think anyone’s heard of him yet– Joshua Ferris.

Just kidding. I mean about anyone hearing of him yet. I’m the slow one. Of course i’ve known who Joshua Ferris is for a while now.  Felicia has gushed about him and his book Then We Came To The End on her blog, Gawker followed his every move (and featured very funny bits about JSF and NK), his reviews were, as they say (yes, i’m going to use that word:) glowing.

I don’t know why I never picked up his book, but I was at the gym yesterday, catching up on my NewYorkers (what else do people do at the gym? oh, work out?) and finally got to the issue  (from Aug 11/18) that contains his incredible short story “The Dinner Party.”

I can’t get the story out of my head. It was like a John Cheever story on speed. I mean that in the best possible way. Actually it really did remind me of Cheever’s “The Swimmer.”

Ferris’ story is gut-bustingly funny one moment; I laughed out loud on the elliptical several times in the first half of the story where the couple are preparing dinner, bantering back and forth about how they could possibly make the dull, predictable night– with the dull, predictable couple they are having over–better, or at least more interesting.

“They come in,” he said, “we take their coats. Everyone talks in a big hurry as if we didn’t have four long hours ahead of us. We self-medicate with alcohol. A lot of things are discussed, different issues. Everyone laughs a lot, but later no one can say what exactly was so witty. Compliments on the food. A couple of monologues. Then they start to yawn, we start to yawn. They say, ‘We should think about leaving, huh?,’ and we politely look away, like they’ve just decided to take a crap on the dinner table. Everyone stands, one of us gets their coats, peppy goodbyes. We all say what a lovely evening, do it again soon, blah-blah-blah. And then they leave and we talk about them and they hit the streets and talk about us.”

“What would make you happy?” she asked.

“A blow job.”

“Let’s wait until they get here for that,” she said.

And then in the next moment (or the second half of the story) it’s heart-breaking. All the while Ferris’ dialogue is so fine-tuned, so real, that I almost felt like I was in the room, a fly on the wall, watching these people. (and this while stepping away on the elliptical, the sweat dripping off my wrists).

Furthermore, Ferris does what Mary Gordon always told us to do– he remembers that his characters are busy doing things as they talk– the wife is cutting vegetables as she and the husband joke about the dreaded dinner party to come; the husband pops in and out of the kitchen, restless and anxious about the party, snacking on cheese and crackers.

The balls were up in the air: water slowly coming to a boil on the stove, meat seasoned on a plate sitting on the butcher block. She stood beside the sink dicing an onion. Other vegetables waited their turn on the counter, bright and doomed. She stopped cutting long enough to lift her arm to her eyes in a tragic pose. Then she resumed, more tearfully. She wasn’t drinking much of her wine.

Every detail seems real, every movement natural. Again, I almost felt like I was intruding on this evening while I was reading. And what a killer line:

Other vegetables waited their turn on the counter, bright and doomed.

Oh, and by the way, the ending is a doozy. Stark, sharp, melancholic.

You can read the story here.

I may be jumping the gun on this a little but I think i’ve discovered a little known gem in Joshua Ferris. I think i’m an idiot for not reading Joshua Ferris sooner.

Mr. Ferris, can you ever forgive me?

photo from NYTimes.