The Loudest Sound and Nothing
The Loudest Sound and Nothing
By Clare Wigfall
Faber & Faber (£12.99)
By Clare Wigfall
Faber & Faber (£12.99)
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Short stories have always been more popular in the US than on this side of the Atlantic. There is something about the punchiness of the genre and its Hemingway heritage which gives rise to rows of magazines in US stores, but which leaves anthologies tucked away at the backs of British bookshops.
Traditionally, we have never been so enamoured of the shorter form, never having had a Hemingway or Chekhov to show us the way. But thanks to the courage of Faber & Faber and the skill of Clare Wigfall there may now be fresh wind in the genre's sails. The recent collection The Loudest Sound and Nothing will go along way to opening UK readers' eyes to the beauty of the shorter form.
Wigfall has produced her first collection of stories, displaying an admirable range of narrative styles and subjects, grappling with topics as diverse as disappearing babies, bodies in the garden, and Parisian ocularists.
The book came with a friend's recommendation, a friend far more cultured and better-read than myself. So I anticipated tolerating a few stories but finding the majority too elaborate for my tastes. I was very pleasantly surprised.
What is most striking about the collection is the range of voices: Wigfall hops from cockney war-time vernacular to a Deep-South brogue, from a Scottish dialect to a New York patois. So accomplished is Wigfall's handling of language that the stories sing off the pages, evoking far more than is usually possible from the shorter narrative form. Her control of vocabulary and pitch makes this collection like a walk through the dressing rooms of a Hollywood studio, where characters step out into the corridor, recount their tales and then disappear.
Beyond the linguistic variation, Wigfall hits upon several themes, which build through the stories, creating subliminal links between each tale. There are tales of loss and concealment, anxiety and devotion, and the boldness of coming of age. If the stories were to be lined up in a beauty contest, the undoubted winner would be "Folks Like Us", a moving account of Bonnie and Clyde from Clyde's viewpoint, where brutality and obsession walk hand in hand with affection and attraction. Told in a bewitchingly simplistic narrative voice, Clyde makes the reader feel for him and his murdering companion while their gun-toting exploits serve only to heighten the inevitability of the tragic demise.
Also noteworthy is "Safe", the tale of a young mother seeking to protect her baby against an inexplicable spate of disappearances and kidnappings. The story almost spills over into horror-fiction as a plague of rats threatens to break out, but the reader is never sure if these rats are merely an extension of the mother's psychosis or the true and gruesome reason for the babies' disappearance.
Wigfall handles each of her fables with a level of skill that is highly impressive for a first collection. She shows the vast landscape of possibilities available in an art-form to which the British are not yet accustomed.
In such hands, a collection of short stories can be a far more moving journey for the mind and heart than a 250-page novel. Not every tale will appeal to everyone, but the book is definitely well worth a dip.
Wigfall has produced her first collection of stories, displaying an admirable range of narrative styles and subjects, grappling with topics as diverse as disappearing babies, bodies in the garden, and Parisian ocularists.
The book came with a friend's recommendation, a friend far more cultured and better-read than myself. So I anticipated tolerating a few stories but finding the majority too elaborate for my tastes. I was very pleasantly surprised.
What is most striking about the collection is the range of voices: Wigfall hops from cockney war-time vernacular to a Deep-South brogue, from a Scottish dialect to a New York patois. So accomplished is Wigfall's handling of language that the stories sing off the pages, evoking far more than is usually possible from the shorter narrative form. Her control of vocabulary and pitch makes this collection like a walk through the dressing rooms of a Hollywood studio, where characters step out into the corridor, recount their tales and then disappear.
Beyond the linguistic variation, Wigfall hits upon several themes, which build through the stories, creating subliminal links between each tale. There are tales of loss and concealment, anxiety and devotion, and the boldness of coming of age. If the stories were to be lined up in a beauty contest, the undoubted winner would be "Folks Like Us", a moving account of Bonnie and Clyde from Clyde's viewpoint, where brutality and obsession walk hand in hand with affection and attraction. Told in a bewitchingly simplistic narrative voice, Clyde makes the reader feel for him and his murdering companion while their gun-toting exploits serve only to heighten the inevitability of the tragic demise.
Also noteworthy is "Safe", the tale of a young mother seeking to protect her baby against an inexplicable spate of disappearances and kidnappings. The story almost spills over into horror-fiction as a plague of rats threatens to break out, but the reader is never sure if these rats are merely an extension of the mother's psychosis or the true and gruesome reason for the babies' disappearance.
Wigfall handles each of her fables with a level of skill that is highly impressive for a first collection. She shows the vast landscape of possibilities available in an art-form to which the British are not yet accustomed.
In such hands, a collection of short stories can be a far more moving journey for the mind and heart than a 250-page novel. Not every tale will appeal to everyone, but the book is definitely well worth a dip.




Rob Heck has worked in The City for seven years, and is an Equity Derivatives Trader at Lehman Brothers. He's one of the few people we know who's actually written a book, which makes him highly qualified to review one. His other interests include magic, massage chairs, Midori, Mexican and myoxia.





