Charles Acheson. Rev. Vanishings by Gary Fincke. Nacogdoches, Texas: Stephen F. Austin State UP, 2014. Print.
Unlike many of its synonyms, “vanishing” indicates necessary haste to record a memory before it dissipates. Certain images and memories live for centuries, if not longer, because of their prominence in the cultural psyche and history through their immediate effect on the cultural imagination. Ready examples include John Filo’s photograph capturing the victims of the Kent State shooting by the Ohio National Guard or Thomas E. Franklin’s “Raising the Flag at Ground Zero.” Lasting images, like these, often become the memories that endure throughout history due to their dominance in supplanting other memories. As a result, these experiences become the touchstone for an entire nation.
But, what about similar experiences on the periphery of these major events? The personal memories and experiences that vanish after a lifetime rather than disappear through the long passage of history? These experiences allow a greater understanding of the event’s influence more broadly, but often become washed away by the tide of modern culture’s preference for shock and awe. In his collection of memoir essays, Vanishings, Gary Fincke adds his personal, in addition to his family’s experiences, to the cultural memory of the aforementioned national tragedies–amongst other topics–through elegant prose and thoughtful exploration of what it meant to grow up with the specter of Vietnam or foreign terrorism. The experiences captured by Fincke in this collection lack the required shock or inherent drama to become the singular locus of national mourning. However, Fincke succeeds repeatedly by elucidating the experiences and emotions of those just outside the immediate space of trauma in a manner that exudes empathy and broader understanding of the event’s impact. Through this collection, Fincke adds nuance to the cultural imagination of both events that media and history often boil down to didactic narratives, voicing the experiences of the periphery that too often vanish.
Perhaps the greatest strength of Vanishings lies in Fincke’s exploration of these experiences beyond the immediate traumatic events. Throughout Fincke’s life, once people become aware of Fincke’s attendance at KSU on the fateful day, they often launch into the political ramifications–from all places on the spectrum–with no provocation outside the happenstance that Fincke was on campus that day. Coworkers of Fincke hammer the notion of using college as a means of draft dodging particularly hard, with the covert, but more often than not, overt, implication that the students deserved the violence. While this trope of the 1960s is not especially new, Fincke imbues the experience in a manner that adds depth and freshness. His deftness with language generates expressions that resonate beyond the familiarity of the narrative. Important to note, the liveliness found in these sequences carries into most of the other sections of the text as the majority of the collection contends with topics outside the realm of these national traumas.
Beyond the obvious importance of memory to memoir writing, Fincke plays with the structure of the collection, opting for a not-entirely-linear timeline that varies between longer pieces and shorter vignettes or thoughts. Through this structure, Fincke captures the mechanics of memory where thoughts intrude into the consciousness with uncertain provocation. Unlike similar texts that use this conceit, the effect does not overly jar the reader. The smoothness of the prose elicits the experience of intrusive memories without the stark juxtapositions that risk confusing and alienating readers. Additionally, the compilations of shorter thoughts vary the rhythm of the collection, providing sections of staccato that mimic associative thinking. As a result, the construction of the text offers a more thorough and enjoyable experience for the reader, providing a tour of the facilities as well as the final product.
Three essays in particular stand out as showing the overall strength of this text. “Manual Labor” illuminates the positive effects of the short thought compilations, while demonstrating Fincke’s ability to breathe new life into familiar narratives. Here, Fincke recalls various moments of his collegiate career, but the most interesting thought shows Fincke working as a summer janitor at his old school over summer break. He writes evocatively–and perhaps paradoxically beautifully–about the grime found beneath the gymnasium’s bleachers. Equally evocative is the immediate dichotomy Fincke illustrates between the blue-collar and white-collar workers in the situation, while building on the previous associations of the compilation.
“Weepers” explores the overall theme of vanishing beautifully, contrasting the slow fade out of crooning weeper musicians with the sudden suicide of his neighbor, Mike Hutka. From the outset, Fincke centers the essay around Mike’s wife, June, as she listens to her records, seemingly wasting away her days much to the chagrin and resentment of other members of the neighborhood. Mike, rarely home as a sales representative after returning from Vietnam, only materializes a few, yet poignant times, before Fincke’s mother’s deadpan announcement of Mike’s suicide, intimated to Fincke as the result of moral degeneracy, though the scars of war seem most poignant in the chain of events. While exploring the immediate vanishing of Mike, this essay speaks to the larger necessity to tell of experience and trauma still not widely accepted in the dominant ideology of masculinity. “Hole in the Head” presents the experiences of Fincke’s daughter–mediated through his memoir–regarding living in New York during the September 11 attacks. While the daughter’s experiences only appear to the reader through Fincke, this essay indirectly speaks the importance of sharing and telling about psychologically traumatizing events.
Despite the overall quality of the text, the final third loses some of the steam as Fincke shifts to recalling his experiences with his immediate family. Each individual narrative retains a certain beauty in the prose, in addition to some very interesting explorations in the modern American rock music landscape. However, the general unity of the “Hard Candy” section and beyond feels slightly underdeveloped in comparison to the preceding sections. The greatest weakness of the text is the intermittent lack of editing polish that ranges from the occasional (and hardly bothersome) extra or lack of space between words to the very perplexing. “Kent State Universityf” on page eighty-nine really stands out. Especially contrasted against the quality style of the prose, these issues appear all the more obvious and become more dislodging to the reader. While not unforgivable in the slightest, these issues ultimately raise questions about editorial thoroughness that take away from the book.
These complaints should not dissuade any readers as the positives of the collection greatly outweigh the shortcomings. Throughout the text, Fincke expresses his memories with elegance and thoughtfulness that elevate the collection above similar works. Returning to the idea of vanishing, the essays within this collection demonstrate the importance of the periphery experience and the priority of recording these experiences. Allowing a singular image or experience to dominate the cultural imagination opens Pandora’s box regarding appropriation and representation. Texts like this one expand the understanding and nuance of an event, helping reject the potential for a hegemonic, singular narrative. Beyond Fincke’s ability to “show” rather than simply “tell” the reader about the events, the act of recording of them in of itself adds to the longevity of the text and its significance.
