British novelist and playwright Alice Jolly's first collection, From Far Around They Saw Us Burn, gathers 15 achingly poignant, slyly surprising stories. Most memorable are those spotlighting silenced women striving to reclaim any semblance of agency.
In "Burn Before Reading," Maddie, "the mad one," proves to be her family's most aware, recognizing that her sister's outwardly perfect life is fast approaching breakdown amid a trifecta of abusive men--father, husband, son. In "Big Hugs and Kisses," a worn toy bears witness to a woman who, after decades of motherhood and wifehood, can claim, "I am still here." "Smooth and Sleek" exposes horrific disparity via she said/he said narratives: "listen please listen I need someone to listen to hear this is my life," the woman begs, revealing her wartime capture and sexual abuse, her desperation too much even for punctuation; meanwhile, "I have a right to tell my story, too," a man demands, complaining about the noise of "you people" as he drones about his entitled car obsession. Jolly's titular, 2021 O. Henry Prize-winning final story is also her finest, inspired by Ireland's historic 1943 Cavan orphanage fire that killed 35 girls--the dead will speak here--as the nuns who all survived, seemingly maliciously insisted "those girls must not be seen in their nightdresses by the men of the town."
Jolly writes with a scathing bluntness unmasking humanity's inter- and intrapersonal frailties and failures. Small details succinctly, remarkably hold multilayered meanings: the exact words to stop a pedophile's exhibitionism ("We All Know Mr Jones"), a purple hairclip left behind after a lifesaving lesson ("For You, Hannah"). Jolly utterly, hauntingly impresses readers throughout. --Terry Hong