Less Is More
A Review of Peaceable Kingdom, by Jack Ketchum
By June Pulliam
Ketchum, Jack. Peaceable Kingdom. New York: Leisure, 2003. 416 p.
One might be tempted to believe that the writing of short stories is an activity that writers undertake early in their careers before they have enough material to write novels, and that the short story's brevity makes it easier to write. However, the opposite is true. The well crafted short story is something that comes from an ability to take a much larger situation and brew it down to its essence, leaving not so much a small tale but rather, a window into a much larger universe. Jack Ketchum's most recent collection of short stories demonstrates this principle. Peaceable Kingdom is a hard hitting and well crafted collection of vignettes into a much larger and very disturbing world. But Ketchum's ability to write well is this format shouldn't be too surprising, as he is a 1994 Bram Stoker Award winner for his short story "The Box," which is reprinted in this collection.
The collection begins with "The Rifle," a story of parental responsibility. A single mother of what is euphemistically called a "troubled boy" discovers the shocking things her son has done to neighborhood animals and comes to understand that he will grow up to become a serial killer. She contemplates getting psychiatric help for her child, but is also aware that the general wisdom about such people is that they don't respond to treatment. Thus, she is forced to take matters into her own hands. But it is the treatment of the subject matter that makes "The Rifle" particularly memorable. Absent is any moralizing about what created this monster child in the first place. The mother can only puzzle that while the children of other people unfold into delightful human beings, her own son is developing into a malignant and implacable person bent on destruction. "The Rifle" wouldn't have been as effective as a novel, since its ability to take the breath out of the reader depends on his/her ability to fill in the blanks. We've all seen this troubled boy whenever a serial or spree killer goes on his final rampage. Contrary to some popular stereotypes, friends and neighbors don't shake their heads and comment that "he was such a quiet boy." Instead, these people paint a picture of the killer as a young man, his earlier brushes with the law, his appalling cruelty to animals and other children, and explosive temper. So when the protagonist does what she must to prevent tragedy, we are just as likely to be her confederates as to be appalled at what seems to be a breach of motherly instinct.
"The Box," the second story, is a modern fairy tale of consumer culture. In the weeks before Christmas, three middle class children are swept away by the insatiable desire for presents until a mysterious and shabby stranger lets Danny, the eldest son, see into a large red box he carries with him. The box contains not a presence (or presents, for that matter), but an absence. Soon Danny becomes completely unable to eat for reasons he cannot articulate. When his concerned parents take him to see the family doctor who enjoins him to eat and live life to its fullest, Danny can only ask why, as he is truly no longer able to understand why anyone would wish to continue to survive. When Danny finally tells his younger sisters what he's seen in the enigmatic box, they too go off their food, and before long, all but the family patriarch are wasting away. This is another of those stories that would lose its efficacy as a novel, as its power depends on the absence of details, rather like the power that resides in the mysterious stranger's box.
"Twins" and the title story of the collection, "Peaceable Kingdom," aren't so much typical horror stories as they are weird tales. "Twins" is, of course, about twins, a brother and sister pair whose fraternal bond evolves into a sexual relationship characterized by a closeness that other couples not related by blood can't hope to experience. "Peaceable Kingdom" explores what would happen if the children of the world developed an affinity with the beasts of the world, allowing all to peacefully co-exist. Here too the brevity of the tales gives them an eerie quality, and encourages the reader to be an active participant in the story by filling in the blanks.