last book read + last stethoscope used, part 7
The stethoscope: an old sprague that was originally almost transparent with specks of purple glitter, but has turned an almost translucent beige with time. Couldn't even tell you what brand it is anymore. Whenever I write my little heart stories, though, I tend to imagine the stethoscope as being a brighter, bolder version of this one. Because shiny things make everything fun. :)
The book: Chris McCormick's short story collection, Desert Boys. I finished four other books while still reading this one. The first story was devastating, but every one that followed paled in comparison, and I found myself less motivated to move on to the next one. The protagonist is a man who eagerly leaves his small hometown in the Antelope Valley of California, learning the hard way that physically leaving a place is only one step in shaking off the trauma it holds, if that's even feasible. Most of the stories concern those adjacent to him and for me lacked the emotional punch of the first. I also wanted to be transported to that place, and never quite felt a connection to it. Years ago, I made my first (and so far only) trip to Big Bend National Park in Texas--my first time seeing any kind of desert. Before leaving home, I'd gazed at several photos of the stars without all the light pollution I'm accustomed to, and couldn't wait to see that kind of sky in person. But for the duration of the trip, the sky was completely overcast, and I was so disappointed in that regard. Honestly, most of the stories in this book gave me that same sort of feeling.
