This Is Not an Accident
April Wilder
Viking, 2014

I’ve been reading short stories for a long, long time. I love them, even—sometimes especially—when they truck in the familiar, the comforting, the well-worn. Those are what I think of as blankie stories, and they have their lovely aspects. But there’s always the little voice in the back of my mind clamoring to be told something new, or—because there is nothing new under the sun, I hear—something old in a new way. And April Wilder’s debut collection, This Is Not an Accident, is made up of those stories, without a doubt. It’s a complex collection, at times challenging, and not a quick read. But it’s rewarding, and one that I highly recommend to lovers of stimulating, non-blankie fiction.

Wilder’s voice is smart and sharp, often epigrammatic in the way it finds a punch line almost as an afterthought—think Lorrie Moore in a biker bar, maybe. But she’s never smart-assy or show-offy. Wilder cares about these characters, no matter how offbeat or strange they seem. Because in fact, they’re no different from any of us when it comes down to the wire, and this is her point—one she makes eloquently, sometimes hilariously, and sometimes in such a bittersweet way you need to close the book for a moment and just think about people and what makes them tick.

And here I’m going to do a bait-and-switch on you. I’ve written at length on the book, and on Wilder, over at Bloom. I kindly direct you there, because I could not possibly say everything I want to say about This Is Not an Accident all over again. Nor would you want me to; I think I did a good job the first time around. Please go take a look, and if it strikes your fancy then by all means get yourself a copy. I do believe we’ll be hearing more from Wilder, and I look forward to meeting whomever she thinks we should get to know.