THE BLACK HOLE PASTRAMI

Feingold’s collection of short stories approaches themes of childhood, illness, death, and remorse.

Sixteen tales are offered here, many of which examine family relations and Ukrainian Jewish heritage. The collection opens with the title story, which describes a vegetarian son venturing to a deli to buy his dying father a black pastrami on rye with extra mustard. The errand leads the man to reflect on his own life, marked by a stultifying sense of helplessness. “Here’s Looking at You, Syd,” one of the longer stories, is about a husband and wife who journey to Moscow to adopt a child but are confronted by a wall of Russian bureaucracy. Other stories examine coming of age; in “The Buzz Bomb,” a young boy takes playing war games too far and is met with disastrous consequences. Similarly in “The Wrong Napkin,” childish naïveté leads to an embarrassing misjudgment and a chat about the differences between men and women. In “Goth Girl,” a young aspiring writer falls for a darkly aloof poet. Stories such as “Avalanche” and “My Left Foot” celebrate familial relationships with pet dogs, whereas “America’s Test Chicken” is a tongue-in-cheek tale of the launch of “one of the hottest cooking shows on cable TV.” Things take a weirdly humorous twist in “Seventh Sense” when a dentist offers “tissue harvested from the departed” to address a patient’s gum complaint. The collection closes with “The Sugar Thief,” about an embarrassing auntie who steals sugar sachets from the diner.

Feingold’s stories are written in the first person and emotionally have the feel of autobiography. The release captured at the close of “The Black Hole Pastrami” is profoundly moving: “The black hole cracked open; light streamed out. For the first time, I forgave myself. For not saving them. For failing at the impossible.” The author is also expert at describing shifting personal perspectives; one regards the aunt who embarrasses her teenage nephew by stealing sugar differently when it’s explained that she lived through rationing during the Depression and World War II. Although Feingold’s stories can be darkly poignant, they can also make readers laugh out loud, as when the patient with the tissue graft in “Seventh Sense” announces: “I taste dead people.” The collected tales are also intriguing due to the echoes that link them. Further references to The Sixth Sense star Bruce Willis crop up in other stories, as do mentions of the black pastrami, making for delightful moments. Feingold has a pleasantly unconventional descriptive style, unusually capturing events such as sitting in the dentist’s chair: “my mouth as wide open as an angry hippopotamus, as he poked with cold pointy instruments….” However, descriptions of Russia in “Here’s Looking at You, Syd” rely on boring stereotypes, from a prosecutor that resembles Bond-movie spy Rosa Klebb to a “Beautiful Russian Doctor” suitable for “a scene in Doctor Zhivago.” Feingold clearly employs such characters for comic effect, but it results in an oversimplified portrait of Russian life. Still, this minor flaw detracts little from a textured, imaginative debut collection.

Inventive and emotionally observant writing.