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Review: The Wars of Heaven, by Richard Currey

  • Writer: Liam Wilson
    Liam Wilson
  • Mar 27
  • 1 min read

Found this one in our local library's WV Authors collection. It wasn't bad, honestly. I enjoyed most of the short stories, and the novella at the end, 'The Love of a Good Woman', was whimsical and sad in the way Great Depression-era stories often are. (And I'm always a sucker for a man getting slapped with a fish.) It's written in that meandering way old country men have, where they spin a yarn with no wool, and in the end you're not sure where the story ended up but you sure enjoyed the ride. Not sure how to go into it much without spoiling, since it's a collection of shorter stories, but I would recommend checking this one out of your local library. The style and quality is great, and if anything, it's a short read— less than 400 pages for the epub file. I'd give it a 7/10. (I'm also bad at book reviews. I'll give this one a 3/10.)



Title 'The Wars of Heaven' large orange print. 'Short stories by Richard Currey' plain black. Sepia photograph of a rundown building built more like a long wooden shack with a tin roof, on land that's clearly strip mined. Whitewashed text painted over the wood reads, in all caps,  'Chew', then, 'Mail' and the rest is indiscernible.

"We are stories nobody tells, Mama, we have disappeared back down to the bottom of that river once and for all. Ours is the testament of snow. We are in the company of time.

That's the story of the past: what you remember best is what was not said. What I remember best turns like the silent pictures we watched in that Grange hall years ago, a world going on with nothing to deliver it forward but a double-bladed shadow and the salvation of time. Thinking of days gone before from the front seat of my truck—air bottle beside me like a friend coming along for the ride—and remembering is an act of farewell in itself, a goodbye to whatever belief in simplicity I might have had. God help us in the mouth of memory, on the last road home and free of any voice except our own.


 
 
 

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