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May 18, 2000
On the prowl with a singular pursuit
By Carol Memmott, USA TODAY
A good writer creates characters whose motives and emotions
reflect our own dark secrets. A great writer makes us wonder
about our life choices; we squirm as if our own lives were the
subject of the book.
If you aren't worried about your current relationship, you might
start after reading Matthew Klam's debut collection of
short-stories, Sam the Cat and Other Stories.
Touted by The New Yorker in 1999 as one of the top 20
young writers, Klam writes mostly about the murky area
between falling in love and big-time commitment. He has an
uncanny knack for crystallizing the truth about relationships.
In a world in which half of marriages end in divorce, Klam's
characters, most of whom are obnoxious, irritating sellouts,
inwardly (but hardly ever outwardly) worry about where life
and love are taking them.
"Sam the Cat," a short story that first appeared in The New
Yorker, is a quirky, funny tale about what makes us fall in
love. Sam loves women; in fact, he has loved a lot of women in
the course of his self ish, self-centered life. Nothing ever works
out, but he breezes through relationship after relationship. "I wanted real love," Sam says. "Not
a replay, not the same thing over and over again."
Sam's wish seems to be coming true when he spots a gorgeous creature at a party. "I couldn't
see her well but she stood over six feet, with silky, jet-black hair just above her shoulders and
hanging around her face." Without giving away too much, let's just say that when Sam
swaggers up to this person, he gets a surprise about identity and his proclivities.
As in all stories in the collection, Klam writes provocatively of sex and violent fantasies fired by
frustration and inner emptiness. In fact, some of his stories are so sexually explicit and irreverent
that some editors at The New Yorker initially balked at publishing "Sam the Cat."
In "Not This," the main character visits his perfect brother with the perfect wife at their perfect
house in the suburbs. Typical in Klam's stories is that things aren't as perfect as they seem. "At
least," says the nameless protagonist at the end of the weekend, "I know more about Dave than I
wanted to." As for his on-again, off-again girl friend, Kiffany, "It's over now between us, and
that's the best anybody can hope for."
Selling out is the focus of many of the stories, including "Linda's Daddy's Loaded" and the
exquisitely painful "European Wedding."
In this final story , a couple and their families meet in France for their wedding. Don't expect any
joy as the event draws near.
" 'Why are we doing this?' he said. She sighed, spent. 'Why?' Did she have to answer this
when they couldn't do anything to stop it? 'Because we're desperate and we're lonely and
nothing better came along. You're all I've got now and you better get used to it. We're on the
grown-up train, and we don't get off until the graveyard.' "
As heavy-duty as all this sounds, many of the characters are so silly and ridiculous that they
come off as pathetic but wryly funny. They're young, hip and cool; at least they think they're hip
and cool. They work for ad agencies and radio stations, e-mail their wedding plans to friends,
and stage their marital events on tropical islands and in the European countryside.
Klam's observations are so astute that single people, even those who wish they weren't , will at
least for a time breathe a sigh of relief that they're alone.
© Copyright 2000 USA TODAY, a division of Gannett Co. Inc.
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