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Some Kinds of Love

Some Kinds of Love: Stories

Steve Yates
Copyright Date: 2013
Pages: 272
https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt5vk37w
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  • Book Info
    Some Kinds of Love
    Book Description:

    Sometimes the opposite of love is not hate, but depravity. In these twelve stories set in the Missouri Ozarks, New Orleans, and Mississippi, Steve Yates reveals lovers clawing back from precipices of destructiveness, obsessiveness, cruelty, vanity, or greed. They seek escape and yet find new barriers, realizing true love may not be at all what they imagined. Pioneers, limestone quarry owners, young German American Civil War survivors, bankers, sex toy catalog designers, highway engineers, Pakistani terrorists, attorneys, missile guidance masterminds, and furniture factory workers (who can see the future) populate these pieces. From the Ozarks of the 1830s, when locals perceive doomsday in a historic starfall, to the near future at an allnight slowpitch softball tournament when Armageddon looms yet again, these stories chart the dark side of love, the ties that bind families, and the sweet complications of human desire.

    eISBN: 978-1-61376-264-6
    Subjects: Language & Literature

Table of Contents

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  1. Front Matter
    (pp. i-vi)
  2. Table of Contents
    (pp. vii-x)
  3. Starfall
    (pp. 1-19)

    In 1833, our village was ten white homesteads gripping the banks of green Niangua River mixed in with several huts of Delaware Indians who came and went depending on seasons we whites didn’t bother to understand. For the rare traveler there existed nothing of account here save Fleat’s meager store and the blacksmith’s. But it was not long before the road that wound from Potosi and Iron Mountain down into the lead-ridden wild of the Ozarks bore word of a surpassing beauty, the blacksmith O’Bannon’s daughter, Polly. Though she was promised to the Widow Fleat’s son, there came through Niangua...

  4. Pleasures of the Neighborhood
    (pp. 20-43)

    When I come home from my shift at the United Parcel Service Warehouse at 4 a.m., I drop my weight belt to the kitchen floor and stare at the grocery sacks I have waiting for Donna Prince, my next door neighbor’s lustrous wife. Upstairs in my insect room, I flip the light, cross the wide, bare floor. Sitting, I rest my elbows at my work table, my chin in my hands and admire the shimmer of wings and veins across my wall. No entomologist on earth has such an extensive selection of Hymenoptera. In the last year, I have discovered...

  5. Homecoming
    (pp. 44-65)

    Even after the night of gunfire and cannon, of surging, drunken crowds on Market and Water Streets, all down the river front; after flares and rockets; even after the box-shaped gunboat finished thumping its bursts of fire and black mounds of smoke, men still staggered under the Weitzers’ window and paused at the visage of the brown Mississippi River, the nearly deserted streets. One gentleman in glorious white trousers and a soiled but fine crimson coat with the collar pulled up to his cheeks swigged from a bottle, then spat the amber liquor in a glittering spray at the sun...

  6. New Father
    (pp. 66-80)

    When Mike pulled into his ex-wife’s driveway, there was a shining blue GTO hogging the pavement. Mike wanted to crunch the car, to see the bumper dangle, see the “Love Your Local Fireman” bumper sticker squished into “v ir men.” The car belonged to Teresa’s new boyfriend. The custody agreement allowed Mike to see his four-year-old son, Conrad, every other weekend, and in between, his ex-wife surrounded Conrad with people like this fireman.

    Mike stepped from his Bronco as Conrad hobbled out the back door and through the garage. Mike thought maybe the boy was injured, but Conrad was bouncing...

  7. Hunter, Seeker
    (pp. 81-103)

    I first encountered Barabbas Nimmo, the man who may or may not be our suspect in the Ether Eddie case, when we were both eleven. Back then we had beautiful bodies, never bathed, and we were deadly serious about our games.

    March in the Missouri Ozarks it could as well snow two feet as roil a humid eighty degrees with tornadoes as exclamation points. Jonquils wag their yellow heads. In the hills redbuds foam purple. Despite columns of sunlight, something of winter lurks in the west.

    And it was just this precarious month thirty years ago when we spirited our...

  8. The Fencing Lady
    (pp. 104-121)

    In late October, Patty Pinchner, the sole person in charge of fencing, arrived in Seligman, Missouri from Arkansas. When Dale, the Highway Department’s inspector, drove his state truck onto the job, the leaves were in their full turn, dull brown and red; the morning was chilly, but he knew the afternoon promised to be springlike and warm. His supervisor joked that it was such fine weather, the fencing lady might just frost Dale’s persimmon.

    Dale’s supervisor made him keep elaborate notes, even take pictures of equipment and material, tape record conversations with foremen. The prime contractor had gone bankrupt, taken...

  9. Forgery
    (pp. 122-135)

    My twelfth-floor office window in the United Fruit Company Building looks across St. Charles Avenue on the Hotel InterContinental. Here in my office, I would like to think, is the real life, the workaday world of designing catalog pages for Head Shoppe Gift Company, Ltd., owned by the sturdy DeGraff Family Foundation. Over there, behind those hotel windows, is a beachhead of American unreality, a staging ground for the false carnival of the French Quarter. Now every night in New Orleans, no matter how distant on the calendar from Fat Tuesday, a faux Mardi Gras swirls, a pageant of beads...

  10. The Green Tomato Marquesa’s Night of a Thousand and One Triumphs
    (pp. 136-163)

    Jamil first encountered Maudelynne Arnot Dabb at the Eudora Welty Library where she was shelving books and where he was researching ways to blow up dams and poison water systems.

    In a volume with an unusual question for a title,Saving Louisiana?, he was relishing a chapter that dramatized the failure of the levee system, one single lock and dam on the Mississippi River. Such mayhem unleashed, New Orleans gone, its harbor destroyed, boozy, infidel Cajuns swirling in fury, clinging to smashed mobile homes and jet skis. The lives lost, the dollars consumed numbered as stars above the Hindu Kush....

  11. Tuesdays at the Center for Excellence
    (pp. 164-185)

    How did the burglar enter? That moot question addled Cruett’s mind as the gray figure slunk across his bedroom in blue moonlight. It had been such a quiet, fine March night, the clocks soon to spring forward and devour an hour’s extra languishing. And Cruett was drowsily relishing this hour when his warped bedroom door huffed, scraped the carpet, then swept open. In the doorway the burglar wavered, a monster in a dream. But real—he smelled mightily of bleach.

    The figure lifted from the dresser Cruett’s small television. Rising, its cord toppled a picture frame, which clattered. The thief...

  12. Report on Performance Art in One Province of the Empire, Especially in Regard to Three Exhibitions Involving Swine
    (pp. 186-208)

    I am citizen Dennis Cyril Gebhardt. For Raytheon Co. (NYSE: RTN) in West Point, Mississippi, I supervise the engineering team that designs components which guide Cruise and Patriot missiles to their targets via a system of gyroscopes, accelerometers, temperature, infrared, and ultraviolet sensors, resistors, capacitors, and magnets that allow the missiles to position themselves globally within a theater of operation from threshold/launch to target. I cannot tell you more even though statistical evidence and much personal experience with previous reports assure me no one will read this.

    However, neither my capacity at Raytheon nor a lack of serious readers is...

  13. Coin of the Realm
    (pp. 209-245)

    The first time Lawyer Ducat was called upon to serve his town of Port Gibson, Mississippi, a newly elected administration was gearing up in Washington, and all over the empire people were in a fervor, especially Ducat’s law partner, Priester. As soon as the steam whistle at the cottonseed oil mill hooted its call to work, heard all across the town, Priester lit in.

    The partners were on speaking terms that week in July of 2001 because both had recorded billable hours from paying clients. Availing himself of this détente, Priester expanded on his satisfaction with the return to morality...

  14. Mila Joins the Game
    (pp. 246-256)

    Mila Handrillill was possibly the greatest slow-pitch softball player in Lawry City. That’s because Mila was a seer.

    Mila experienced every moment as a blur. About an hour’s worth of sensations—sight, sound, smell, touch—all rushed in on him every second. It was normally the hour he was about to experience with some shadings of coming hours, but Mila did not see it that way. When Mila watched a scene without concentrating, say the street in front of his house on a sunny day, the world, its colors and sounds and motions, all shifted and slid around as if...

  15. Acknowledgments
    (pp. 257-258)
  16. Back Matter
    (pp. 259-262)