JR's CHOICE

I’m willing to bet George Dila, the current Director of the Ludington Visting Writers, editor of The Driftwood Review, and self-admitted writing workshop junkie, found inspiration for the title story of his book "The End Of The World" from what happened five years ago. As the media replays the series of tragic events, I'm sure people will gravitate toward the radiant glow of their televisions, rediscovering their own possible vulnerabilities.

In the title story, the narrator, a constant worrier of flesh eating bacteria, bird flu, prostate cancer, road-rage, car-jackings, ATM hold-ups, terrorist attacks, and much more, faces a rebellious teenage son sent by his second ex-wife. His concerns run deep: I’m worried about weapons of mass destruction in the hands of the wrong people. Nuclear weapons. Chemical weapons. Worst of all, biological weapons. When his son lights a cigarette, he worries about second-hand smoke; when his ex-wife lends a sympathetic ear, he frantically claims that maybe he’ll be murdered in his sleep. His anxiety transcends horrible thoughts about the afterlife to concerns regarding the destruction of mankind. I saw on TV, although a fragmented statement, emphasizes the narrator’s dependency for receiving bad news.

Interestingly enough, Dila uses a more forceful, paternalistic voice in "My American Dream," pulling the reader into the conflict: Whatever your daughter tells you about when she started having sex, assume it’s a lie. Raising his daughter alone, the father questions her sexual activity, slapping her across the face only to regret his actions. Again, Dila’s literary mechanism is the television. Here, Oprah confronts the father in an imaginary dialogue running through his mind, and later, not knowing his daughter’s whereabouts, he watches a news story …about some kids who had been killed and maimed by a wayward American bomb.

Separation occurs in Dila’s stories too. In "The Cello Player," the narrator, tormented by his love for two women, does some soul-searching, reacquainting himself with an old friend and musician whom ran away at the age of sixteen. Dila shows the complexity of the narrator’s situation when referring to the wife and the cello case: I did not tell her that when I shook it, nothing moved inside. In "Teddy and Freddy," dinner companions, fascinated with the discussion of Siamese twins, become eyewitnesses to the twins rather mundane evening routine. Dila’s at his best here, juxtaposing marital commitment with marital aloofness. "Maid of the Mists," completes his contemporary stories, where two sisters reconnect after years apart through adoption.

Lastly, there’s "Shaft Men," which first appeared in North American Review. Soldiers, freshly circumcised, prepare for the biblical battle of Jericho some 3,000 years ago. I’m not sure this story fits, preferring "Berger," published in Electric Current Magazine, for its modernity as the main character begs God to take him away.

Overall, Dila’s debut short story collection earns two big thumbprints for taking the reader on a memorable journey through the lives of some very interesting characters. He is a talented Michigan writer, and I look forward to reading more of his stories in the near future.