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by Joshua Furst, author of Short People When I was a child, my mother sat on the edge of the bed each night after tucking me in and talked me through my nightly prayers. Together we'd recite the sing-song rhyme that substituted, in our house, for a deeply felt conversation with God. Then I would rattle off the names of the various people I'd placed on my prayer list, mostly the members of my immediate family, my little friends and the various family pets. Before she turned off the bedside lamp and tiptoed out of my room, my mother would remind me to recite the bible verse that she had found for me when I was four and which the whole family thought of as mine. I still remember it: The Lord said to Joshua, be bold, be brave, don't be afraid of anything, for I, the Lord your God, am with you always. Every night for over ten years, these were the words that ran through my head as I tried to fall asleep. I was a troubled child and this short verse helped me feel less lost than I actually was. I loved the phrasing--that Lord with his martial ferocity, with his territorial sovereignty, speaking directly, exclusively, to me, telling me he was and forever would be riding beside me, his torch lighting my way, as I made my way into a battle that, as long as I remained noble and true of heart, I could not possibly lose. And though I long ago fell out of touch with this Lord, I still take the commandments he gave me in this verse seriously; it's quite possible that I would not have become a writer without them. At the very least I would have become a completely different kind of writer, less idealistic, less earnest. My cynical tendencies would have quickly overtaken my prose. But because of the close identification I made as a child with the spiritual warrior after whom I'm named, I am motivated by the belief that there are things--ideas, emotions, irrational truths--that can only be communicated indirectly and these are the things people (myself included) most need to hear. I strive to say what can't but must be said. My collection of stories, Short People, speaks to the shameful, embarrassing details of what growing up in America is like right now. It is a dark book--a very dark book--but my reasons for writing it have everything to do with a love of the light. It is an attempt to testify--boldly, bravely, without any fear--to the way life is lived in some of the places where God, if he exists at all, has not shown his face in a very long time. Like the dark room where as a child I was afraid to fall asleep most nights, these places too need illumination. |
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