This tale reminds me a bit of one of my favorite stories--John Steinbeck's "Flight." It isn't for any of the plot that I'm reminded. Rather, it's the way that Wendt chooses to tell this tale--as well as the tale's setting. This is a silent and lonely film. There's almost no dialogue. It's a piece told in a woman's head and in the concrete details of the landscape and the her move through it.
Kim is on a road trip, on her way to visit a friend named Jill. There's a motorbike gathering going on, and she passes a few of these riders as she drives, coming into contact with them when she pulls off to eat or to guy gas or to take a leak. She makes a momentary connection with one rider in particular, such that when they're driving along in a freak rainstorm, she notices his bike go down miles in front of her on a Nebraska highway. One shouldn't be so absorbed by a tale that essentially recounts a woman's grizzly discoveries in somber and gruesome detail, but it's a testimony to Wendt's writing that one is. Read the story here at Memorious.
Showing posts with label Holly M. Wendt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holly M. Wendt. Show all posts
Sunday, April 28, 2013
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