If I were a betting man (sadly, my wife tells me otherwise), I'd put a sack of cash on Deborah Willis becoming a nationally renowned writer.
Deborah who, you ask? Well, Willis is a first-time Victoria author who has just had her book of short stories, Vanishing and Other Stories, published by Penguin ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½. It's a remarkably accomplished collection by this soft-spoken 26-year-old, who moonlights as a Munro's Books clerk.
The stories aren't linked, but many examine the arbitrary, sometimes brutal way in which people enter and exit the lives of others. The title tale is about a playwright who suddenly disappears from his attic-study one day and never returns. This story, like most of Willis's, concludes in a curious, unpredictable way that suggests the untidiness of real life.
In Vanishing, the missing playwright's young daughter, Tabitha, grows up to become a washed-out actor. Here's Willis's description: "She is well liked, though fat and poor, and she wakes one morning to find that her hair has a become a brazen, phoney blond." Tabitha's fall from grace -- almost unbeknownst to herself -- is captured with an economical, artful description.
With her stories, Willis boldly inhabits the skin of all sorts, of all genders. The Weather is about a teenaged girl who befriends an older, wilder girl. Her father, whose wife has left, improbably becomes lovers with the new friend. The politically incorrect subject matter of The Weather is difficult -- treacherously so -- yet Willis handles it with aplomb. Adding to the technical challenge is the writer's decision to switch between two points of view: the father's and the daughter's.
At times, this author reminds me of young songwriters who, because they have the talent and skill, attempt too much. Such a musician might produce credible songs in various genres -- country, rock, jazz -- simply because they are able. The risk is a loss of overall cohesion and focus.
Yet in Willis's case, even if such a criticism can be legitimately levelled, it merely feels like nitpicking. Her talent and skill are nothing short of formidable.
I was tipped off to Willis by ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ reporter Jim Gibson last year. He had heard about the writer from Jim Munro, owner of Munro's Books.
It was Munro who handed Willis's stories to Penguin ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ president David Davadar. Munro had become interested in his clerk's literary endeavours after she won a short story contest in the Vancouver literary magazine, PRISM International. That story was Vanishing.
I caught up with Willis at Murchie's Tea and Coffee, next to the bookstore. It was loud and clattery in the tea shop. Willis spoke softly and seemed a touch shy. She's modest, with a good sense of humour.
Willis said when her boss promised to show her stories to a publisher she "didn't think anything would come of it." When her book was accepted by Penguin, she was overwhelmed.
"I was walking around in a daze, thinking, 'Wow, I'm going to publish a book. It's actually happening.' "
Willis had received a copy of her book just the night before our meeting, She was experiencing emotions shared by most newly published fiction writers. She talked about the shock of her personal world becoming public. ("It's kind of a nightmare," she said, laughing). One friend who knows her as a "bit of a goof" was surprised Willis had penned such accomplished, edgy, dark stories.
Willis grew up in Calgary, where her father is an English prof turned psychologist. Her mother is a French professor. It was a bookish home. Willis originally studied journalism at the University of Victoria, then turned to creative writing, where she was inspired by Lorna Crozier and Lorna Jackson.
She likes being a bookstore clerk. The best shift for Willis is 12:30 to 9 p.m., giving her time to write in the mornings.
The writers Willis enjoys include Anton Chekov, Scott Fitzgerald (especially The Great Gatsby) and Flannery O'Connor.
As an influence, Chekov particularly makes sense to me, given the conciseness of her writing. And perhaps the darkness in her work reflects O'Connor's grim southern gothic vision.
I love reading short stories. Alice Munro is my favourite short-stobory writer -- probably my favourite writer period. In reading Vanishing and Other Stories, I was reminded of Alice Munro. But I wondered if that association came to me just because Willis works at Munro's (Jim Munro was once married to Alice).
It turns out Willis is a big Alice Munro fan. Indeed, reading collections such as The Lives of Girls and Women and Friendship, Courtship, Loveship and Marriage is what first sparked her interest in writing fiction years ago.
The icing on the cake, for Willis, was when Alice Munro once visited Munro's Books. She was able to meet the famous writer. And it turned out that Munro had not only read her stories, she'd enjoyed them.
"I was totally tongue-tied," said Willis, grinning. "It was really amazing. I didn't say anything intelligent to her at all."
Note: There will be a book launch and signing for Deborah Willis's Vanishing and Other Stories at Munro's Books, 1108 Government St., on Saturday, May 16, from 2 to 3 p.m.
