(W.W. Norton, February 2010) A Methodist minister gone astray, a trout bum gone fishing with his father's ashes, an artist overwhelmed by embodied beauty -- these are among the uncommon heroes and exquisite narratives in this first collection of stories by Thomas Lynch. Set in Michigan's north woods, Ohio's interior, on islands, in casinos and distant cities, these fictions are linked by the gone but not forgotten former spouses, dead parents, and missing children. In pursuit of love and its redemptions, Lynch's characters are haunted by memory, dogged by desire, made radiant by romance and its denouments.
"There is such generosity and grace in his work. To read it is to encounter a calm, observant intelligence. He is an original. Of that there is no doubt. His writing is lucid, measured and rich in exact images. Meditative and politely laconic, this is a terrific collection from a writer who thinks and feels and tells stories with an engagingly distilled candourand assurance all his own." Eileen Battersby, The Irish Times
"Powerful, unsettling and full of grace." Booklist
"The
pieces in this powerful, meditative
collection are all beautifully drawn; the title story is a masterpiece." Library Journal
"Compassion, mourning, joy and wit all
play roles in this tender, insightful hefting of mortality’s mysteries." Kirkus Review
"It may be difficult to discern which is the greater influence on Lynch, his Irish ethnicity or his Michigan upbringing, but the result is a lyricism coupled with a locale of abundant natural beauty and an attachment to the offbeat characters who are its inhabitants." Robert Birnbaum, The Morning News
"Quiet yet soulful short stories and novella that offer intricate portraits of men and women at the furthest reaches of grief, longing and love. Lynch is a superb writer who combines a poet's vision with a deep understanding of the human heart. His first collection of fiction does not disappoint." Shelf Awareness
"Frank, funny and moving, this catalog of loss and the lessons that come with it...evokes Heminway's stoicism, Carver's darkness and Flannery O'Connor's irony." James Cihlar, Star-Tribune: Minneapolis-St.Paul
"It's a quietly exhilarating book, full of beautiful writing and keen observations." Doug Childers, Richmond Times-Dispatch
"Mostly, this fiction confronts the remorseless workings of fate. Flawed protagonists respond to the nagging sense that some crucial perception, action or consolation lies always just out of reach, and that dignity consists in reaching for it, failing, and reaching out again." John Repp, Cleveland Plain Dealer
"The cruel radiance of life found in the author's poetry shimmers in this collection of stories." Susan Salter Reynolds, The L.A. Times
"Lynch is a poet...and he links disparate images and impressions with near-poetic cadence, bringing beauty and earthiness alike to life." Boston Globe
Booking Passage: We Irish and Americans
(W.W. Norton & Company, June, 2005)
A memoir of forty years of coming and going between Michigan and Moveen, West Clare
A writer's returning to the old country reveals the binding ties of family, faith, language and home-place -- the precious and perilous nature of tribe and "people" and ethnicity. Click Here for more information and how to order.
Bodies in Motion and at Rest: On Metaphor and Mortality
(W.W. Norton & Company, May 2001)
In this collection of essays, Thomas Lynch, called a cross between Garrison Keillor and William Butler Yeats, reminds us not only of how we die but also of how we live.
The poems in this volume are all concerned, one way or another, with achieving a balance in the face of gravity. Lynch looks for this equilibrium between equal and opposing forces, such as sex and death, and love and grief - all the things that make us mortal and memorable.
Issued as part of the prestigious Knopf Poetry Series, this is the first published collection of the great undertaker poet, and is very scarce, especially in the hardcover issue. Like the poets Wallace Stevens and William Carlos Williams before him, Thomas Lynch works in the world of real things. Like Stevens, like Williams, Lynch does the kind of work that makes him look at death-week in, week out, year in, year out.
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