susan taylor chehak

Publications

As Kathryn Dow
“Dow’s ambitiously imaginative debut novel questions the very nature of reality… [a] diverting exploration of metaphysical concepts. Winsome and smartly playful.” —Kirkus Reviews
When her father bumps his head and collapses, in Linwood, Iowa; June, 2006, Alma doesn't know what to do. And then she does.
Fiction
Mouse Wendler's account of her father's disappearance in Linwood, Iowa, June 2006.
"Chehak's prose provides a seamless, calm flow to a novel whose elements of love and murder ripple enticingly, fully surfacing only gently, only eventually, in the most satisfying kind of storytelling." -Booklist
"Haunting . . . Clodine Wheeler is the bemused narrator who strings together brilliant beads of descriptive phrases as she sorts through her memories . . . Chehak skillfully depicts small-town meanness and ironic generosity . . . . Her mesmerizing tale has classic resonances." – Publishers Weekly
"A dark tale of obsession among the posh ranks of a midwestern town... Chehak's poetic style exposes the passionate longings beneath the mannered sterling-and-crystal patina of Cedar Hill life; she renders both violence and love with an unflinching eye and casts a mournful spell." -Vogue
"Chehak is a very accomplished storyteller, always in control of her narrative, which moves ahead with grace and speed. But it's not only the plot that matters to this writer. It's the telling little details, particularly of teenage angst and of domestic life that makes the novel rich... SMITHEREENS is a novel fully worthy of the title thriller. It's hard to put down. It has a kind of dark allure." - The Los Angeles Times
“In Susan Taylor Chehak’s skilled hands, Iowa becomes the seething, steamy setting for a tale of pure evil… This is a marvelous, creepy story.” -The Kansas City Star
Short Stories
Now available at Amarillo Bay
Now available at Necessary Fiction: Part One and Part Two
Now available at Juked
read it in the Spring 2012 issue of Folio by subscribing HERE
available online at Folly
read it in the Spring 2011 issue of Coe Review by subscribing HERE
read it on your Kindle, or your Kindle App
Online Projects
Nonfiction

What's New

Sudden Loss of Suspension of Disbelief

January 27, 2011

This is a bit from Adam Ross's Mr. Peanut, where it comes in the context of an airplane flight interrupted by personal trauma, i.e., the trauma of flight trauma:

"What we suffer is a kind of obliteration. Faith, all sense of trust blasted from our souls. Wherewithal and judgment from our mind. Confidence from our spines. Happiness from our hearts and nerve from the very core of our being. So many essential things cleaved from us..."

In Ross's novel, this is diagnosed as SLSD: Sudden Loss of Suspension of Disbelief

"That's why certain elderly people lose their ability to drive. They can't get up the nerve to pass or merge. Trucks in their lane send them careening toward the shoulder. They drive 55 in a gesture of desperate obedience. To calm their nerves, they observe the law to the letter. They've seen so much misfortune that they're paralyzed. They're convinced the road is full of imminent disaster."

When my mother was in her mid-fifties, my father left her for a younger woman, after 32 years of marriage. Then he went around telling everybody, including my mother, that he'd known the marriage was a mistake from the first night they spent together. He said at the time, and many times since, that the only reason he got married in the first place was that he was going to be shipped off to WWII and he didn't want to die a virgin. My mother was, understandably, devastated. She never really got over this huge rift that tore through the middle of her life, dividing it between "before" and "after" their divorce. She never remarried and never had another serious romantic relationship.

Around the same time that all this was happening, she started to be afraid to drive on the highway. First, at night. Then, anytime. She said she felt like she was going to fly off the road, and her fear caused her to freeze up behind the wheel so she'd brake and slow and finally just come to a dead stop.

Sudden Loss of Suspension of Disbelief. Looking back now, I think this is what ailed my mother. It wasn't that she had somehow lost confidence in her own driving abilities, it was that she'd stopped believing in the notions that had until then sustained her and made it possible for her to get through the day, including the faith that her husband loved her and an oblivious sense of well-being while whipping down a highway at 55 miles/hour.

What it takes to be able to immerse yourself in any fiction is that "willing suspension of disbelief." Maybe we're all so traumatized that we just can't do it anymore. If the novel is dead, is this the real reason why?

Greedy Reading

January 25, 2011

I have so many books, so many kinds of books, that I've picked up and started and then put down, in one form or another. The ones on my Kindle get buried as new ones are added. The ones on my iPad -- and I have all kinds there: Kindle, iBooks, Nook books, Google books -- also get buried and forgotten. Many of these are samples that I've downloaded and want to read but then have put aside for one reason or another, but many others are full books that I've actually paid for, with all the best intentions. And I want to go back to them, I mean to go back to them... The ebooks are especially problematic, because they don't sit in a pile on my desk or my bedside table or my shelves, reminding me of a date I've made to re-engage one day...

Solution: an index card file box. Shiny blue, it looks like a steamer trunk -- metal edges, riveted corners, even a lock -- and it holds hundreds and hundreds of 4x6 lined cards. With dividers for organization and easy reference: History, Philosophy, Psychology, Fiction, General Nonfiction... and so on. A card (or more?) for each book. Notes. Intentions. Inspirations.

Next problem: time.