Part 1: ZZ Packer, Drinking Coffee Elsewhere
4.28.2004Leigh Householder
Books
Leigh Householder is, well a lot of things, but perhaps most relevantly a freelance designer and writer, a business partner on the yellow brick road and an impolite conversationalist. She enjoys the view from a bike, bizarre conversations with strangers and, frankly, cake. Visit her on the Web.
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Their invitations to this year's Pen/Faulkner award ceremony apparently lost in the mail, Knotmag's book reviewers write their own revisionist history of who really deserves the $15,000 prize. Part 1.

Drinking Coffee Elsewhere, by Z. Z. Packer. Riverhead Books, March 2003.

Z. Z. Packer's first book, Drinking Coffee Elsewhere, is a collection of eight short stories set in the lives of African Americans. Most are young women and all are struggling with the frustration of expectations -- theirs or someone else's. From the snatching hands of sexual abuse to the nasty jibes of thoughtless children to failing to reach the unachievable demands of self-involved parents, Packer's poetic telling hints at the vagueness of "right" and the inadequacy of reaction. Many have placed Drinking Coffee Elsewhere in the category of African American literature because of its strong focus on the experiences of African-American characters. But race may be only a surface difference in stories that pulse with a range of otherness, from age to religion to appearance.

The stories weave together a long, winding folk song of a book, filled with painted phrases of uncommon resonance. But, though beautifully told, the stories are shallowly conceived. They feel formulaic -- always with a tragically-flawed, conflicted protagonist and a short-sighted, self-involved foil; each approaching moments of happiness before ending ambivalently. Although some stories are richer than others, the foil character remains one dimensional -- without a full personality, he's a caricature of his most relevant trait. Packer treats every relationship this way, from the incidental exchanges between characters to the interactions of races. Some might say those are the limitations of the medium -- a short story cannot know each character in depth -- but others have certainly done better in knowing that every slice of life contains more than one flavor for the palette.

In one short story, "Speaking in Tongues," Packer follows a 14-year-old run-away, bundled in a ruffled blouse and ankle-length skirt, in her attempt to escape her religious aunt's care and locate her free-spirited mother. Tia doesn't find her mother, but she does find a seemingly benevolent dealer and pimp and one of his "women." The story is full of the contradictions of naiveté -- should she trust the kindness or be wary? After the smarmy dealer nearly twice her age repeatedly approaches her sexually, Tia's "escape" is uncertain and right and wrong remain unclear. In part, because Tia is conflicted and in part because the dealer has been drawn so thinly that it is difficult to know if his kindness was sincere or if it was entirely driven by baser instincts.

In this story, like many of the others, whites are drawn out of the background for a jab or two -- an ongoing theme of forced "otherness":

"...the white girls who traded pocked mirrors, lipsticking themselves like four-year-olds determined to crayon one spot into a waxy patch."

Many of Packer's characters experience ambivalence similar to Tia's. Drinking Coffee Elsewhere is full of incomplete business, of negotiated outcomes that no one is satisfied with, of never finding a way to live your "real life." One character works toward a dream of the comfortable and important work of teaching, but the day-to-day drag of the cruel students and unsupportive administration lead her to a violent breakdown. A son sees himself as intelligent and capable, but is trapped in his father's deadbeat, alcoholic world, arguing with people who don't seem to understand the premise of the debate. A talented but very unattractive woman accepts crude sexual advances and thoughtless disrespect just to secure a place in a community of "friends."

The collection opens with one of its strongest pieces, "Brownies." A tough troop of African-American Girl Scouts order themselves in a classic childhood clique, complete with sniping leaders, weary followers (like narrator "Snot"), and seemingly unaware freaks. Sitting on a bus they play with words, like "Cau-ca-sian," pinning it unflatteringly on any they disapprove of, including a "turtling" line of white girls weaving away from their bus in a slow crooked line. Once settled in, they plot to seek revenge against the white troop for reported utterance of "nigger." Through it all, they live in the constant conflict of adult experience and childhood play, at one point commanded to sing for a weeping Troop Leader, unable to escape the sadness of her failing marriage. But, even as Packer shows us the streaks of humanity in even the cruelest Troop member, the white girls remain one dimensional -- a big mushy ball of developmentally-challenged children with less character than even the drab campground bathroom they quarrel in.

Perhaps the most noticeable example of Packer's tendency toward a flat foil is in the book's title piece. The story opens with an antisocial Yale freshman at orientation. In a none-too-subtle metaphor, a needy, melodramatic dorm-mate hurls herself against the locked door to the narrator's room, begging for attention and entry. The meat of the story follows the narrator's foil, Heidi, absolutely throwing her big, boisterous self into drawing the narrator out, despite the returned mockery and rejection. As difficult as it is to understand the surly, introverted character, it's even harder to accept the shallowly-drawn character whose affections she both needs and struggles against.

Still, it is both easy and lovely to escape into the lyrical telling. In a phrase, Packer can transport us to an instant in time,

Outside the Travel Plaza, Baltimore stretched black and row-house brown. Traffic signals changed, dusk arrived in inky blue smidges, and slow-moving junkies stuttered their way across the sidewalk as though rethinking decisions they'd already made.

The bright spots in Packer's stories are choked with emotion and in the space of a few lines we're drawn back in -- like in this instance of playfully-compelling melancholy, where an angry and exhausted traveler is distracted by a simple joy for the family in line ahead of him.

The voice is hearty and successful. The boy jumps up and down with delight. He is the happiest I've seen anyone, ever. And though the urge to weep comes over me, I wait--holding my head in my hands--and it passes.

Part of the charm of reading Packer is the excitement about unearthing a strong new voice. But Drinking Coffee Elsewhere doesn't read like a PEN/Faulkner winner. Previous selections (Michael Cunningham, Ann Patchett, Tobias Wolff, Philip Roth, Ha Jin) have shown an intriguing depth of character, a tactile empathy that lets us build relationships with the characters and know them in their quirky range. Despite the lyrical telling, Packer is reticent to let us in that far.

NOTE: Z.Z. Packer's Drinking Coffee Elsewhere was nominated for the 2004 Pen/Faulkner Award for Fiction. John Updike will accept the award for his Early Stories at the presentation ceremony on May 8.