Blue Collar, White Collar, No Collar is full of compelling stories that cover the gamut of work: types of jobs, emotions about work, and varieties of employees. There are so many varied jobs and characters represented, and the writing is impressive across the board. All proceeds from this anthology support 826michigan, a program that offers free youth writing, tutoring, and publishing programs in eight U.S. cities.
Deborah Eisenberg’s "The Flaw in the Design" perfectly captures the upper-middle-class life: a husband and wife who believe themselves open-minded, who pretend to have the perfect family, but who cordoned themselves off from the "natives" in the foreign places they lived while their son was growing up. Now their son is rebelling, and they treat each other gingerly, the guilt of having profited from unsavory conditions in the back of their minds. Eisenberg does such a good job with insinuation and tone that the reader keenly appreciates both the polite surface level of the story and the underlying tension.
"The Store" by Edward P. Jones, is solid and heartbreaking, the story of a young man in a downtrodden neighborhood who learns to be a man by working for Mrs. Jenkins in her store. The protagonist is initially unreliable, but becomes reliable over the course of the story. We come to understand him and his world through the dialogue, both spoken and internal. We come to care about him, especially once something terrible happens. "The Store" is a whole novel in a few pages.
Deborah Eisenberg’s "The Flaw in the Design" perfectly captures the upper-middle-class life: a husband and wife who believe themselves open-minded, who pretend to have the perfect family, but who cordoned themselves off from the "natives" in the foreign places they lived while their son was growing up. Now their son is rebelling, and they treat each other gingerly, the guilt of having profited from unsavory conditions in the back of their minds. Eisenberg does such a good job with insinuation and tone that the reader keenly appreciates both the polite surface level of the story and the underlying tension.
"The Store" by Edward P. Jones, is solid and heartbreaking, the story of a young man in a downtrodden neighborhood who learns to be a man by working for Mrs. Jenkins in her store. The protagonist is initially unreliable, but becomes reliable over the course of the story. We come to understand him and his world through the dialogue, both spoken and internal. We come to care about him, especially once something terrible happens. "The Store" is a whole novel in a few pages.
Thomas McGuane’s "Cowboy" is remarkable primarily because of its incredible language. A great writer can use words you’ve never heard of and you figure out exactly what they mean: waller, cavvy, and sweenied. A cowboy goes to work for the old sumbitch and the old lady, and he narrates the experience like this: "I broke the catch colt, which I didn’t know was no colt as he was the biggest snide in the cavvy." Slowly, we learn each character’s back story; it takes them years to tell the stories to each other. The cowboy is good at hard work, and he and the old folks become family.
"Minotaur," by Jim Shepherd, tells us just enough about what "people in the industry call the black world, which is all about projects so far off the books that you’re not even allowed to put CLASSIFIED in the gap in your résumé afterwards." Quickly we learn how black ops wrecks relationships, and quickly we become intent on learning just a little more of the secret. That curiosity drives us to the end of the story, where we never learn any more, but we somehow — delightfully — feel part of a secret society.
There are many varieties of work here: occupational therapist, thief, student, furniture deliverer, writer, typewriter repairman, tour guide, train waiter, and even a room full of immigrants who can’t find work. There’s no cohesive theme, like "work is soul-sucking" or "work imparts dignity." Instead, the reader forgets that the stories are about work, becoming caught up in the characters’ lives of these expertly written and paced stories.
"Minotaur," by Jim Shepherd, tells us just enough about what "people in the industry call the black world, which is all about projects so far off the books that you’re not even allowed to put CLASSIFIED in the gap in your résumé afterwards." Quickly we learn how black ops wrecks relationships, and quickly we become intent on learning just a little more of the secret. That curiosity drives us to the end of the story, where we never learn any more, but we somehow — delightfully — feel part of a secret society.
There are many varieties of work here: occupational therapist, thief, student, furniture deliverer, writer, typewriter repairman, tour guide, train waiter, and even a room full of immigrants who can’t find work. There’s no cohesive theme, like "work is soul-sucking" or "work imparts dignity." Instead, the reader forgets that the stories are about work, becoming caught up in the characters’ lives of these expertly written and paced stories.
Disclosure: A review copy was provided by the publisher. For more information, please see our Ethics Policy.
