Bad Dirt (Wyoming Stories 2)

by Annie Proulx

I came across this book via the London Art Club's Book Club. It was not the most inviting book title, but to my surprise found it available from Edgware library, and thought I'd throw all caution to the wind and give it a go. To my alternate surprise, when I went to look for it on the library's book shelves, I found out that Annie Proulx wrote The Shipping News. Now, The Shipping News is really not something you would have heard of unless you're a Kevin Spacey fan, which is what I am; I have a curious and unhealthy obsession with him. Or had, rather, it has waned somewhat after having seen him in A Moon for the Misbegotten which was showing at the Old Vic in London. I have to admit I'm not usually very good at theatre, even though I try, but this play turned out to be the dullest load of waffle I'd paid £20 to see. But digression aside, The Shipping News was also slow, but kind of grows on you, brought to you by the same man who directed Chocolat. So with this link I was willing to give Bad Dirt a tackle, despite its dubious title.
It is actually short stories, and all set in Wyoming, which I had never given a thought to before ever, even when I was little and in an American school in HK and had to learn all the capitals to all the US states. I'm not especially a fan of short stories, I kind of like my books to have meat and depth that you can dive into. Reading a short story always leaves me feeling slightly unsettled, dangling and looking around bemused, like where's the rest of the story dude? Because I was reading this for a book club, there was the whole one story down, six more to go mind set behind my reading, which I think helped. Some of the stories I couldn't help thinking thank goodness this is only short, some mercifully so, but some of them were OK too... just. As I was eating my way through the book, I find myself comparing reading short stories to eating different chocolates from a box selection. Some are good, some not so, but all small, brief and bitesized little joys to experience. Out of all the stories in it, I really only enjoyed one of them, a story about a rusty old magical kettle. It was the only one that started and ended well, and felt right short. But the running theme through all of them was the Wyoming setting, open plain country, vivid, raw, and emotive descriptions of which I did think was quite lovely. Maybe I'll go there one day; Yosemite's there, so it's a real possibility.
After all that dedicated reading, I never went to the book club meeting about it; but it was a nice little diversion from my usual reading fare, even if it is the sort of thing old grannies might read.