A Language All Its Own: The Fiction of Gary Lutz

by Zack Graham

In his introduction to The Complete Gary Lutz, Brian Evenson recounts his experience “with a gathering of French translators and editors” during which the group concludes that translating Gary Lutz is “impossible.”

I know what you’re thinking: hyperbole. There’s no way writing can be “impossible” to translate. Perhaps a translation doesn’t quite capture the essence of the writing in its original tongue, but any translator will tell you that very few translations succeed in doing so.

Hyperbole it is not, I assure you. Gary Lutz’s writing is untranslatable; rather, any Lutz translation would be so far afield from the original wording and meaning of his writing that it might as well not be a translation at all. A mimicry, perhaps. But probably a mockery. 

That’s because Lutz writes into the core of actions, thoughts, and feelings with such a drastic disregard for how the English language typically works that his writing reads like a language all its own.

An avid student of Gordon Lish, Gary Lutz published his first book with Alfred K. Knopf in 1996. He gained a following over the course of the next two decades. His outspoken fandom includes Amy Hempel, Ben Marcus, Ottessa Moshfegh, Christine Schutt, the aforementioned Evenson, and countless writers from all walks of life. Lutz has released three collections and two chapbooks since 1996; all five of those releases (plus a smattering of new and unpublished stories) comprise The Complete Gary Lutz, out from Tyrant Books on December 3rd.

The omnibus begins at the beginning with Stories in the Worst Way, the strongest of Lutz’s books. His weaponization of adjectives and adverbs (he is, perhaps, the best deployer of adverbs that ever walked the earth), his self-evisceration, his struggle to understand both his sexual identity and his sexual orientation, his obsession with the construct of marriage, a unit that he uses to frame the vast majority of his narratives — all are on dramatic display in his debut collection. “Sororally,” “When You Got Back,” and “Education” all stand out, but “It Collects in Me” is probably the best story in the book. It begins:

Here is a story in the worst way. I have no business being anywhere in it. It comes between me and the life I have coming. 

Look: a man who is not me but whose accomplishments are similar (he was the son of some parents, got himself school around, circumstanced himself aplenty, placed himself squarely and irreversibly in the employ of somebody who could be counted on to walk all over him, etc.) found a new way to cheat on his wife.

There are few if any American writers who can vocalize the crushing despair of late capitalist malaise in a mere five sentences.

I Looked Alive, the omnibus’s second collection, is perhaps the weakest grouping of the six, containing considerably less in the way of its predecessor’s brutality, honesty, emotional courage, and might. The task of matching the quality and power of his debut collection, it seems, paved the way for Lutz’s sophomore slump. 

Thankfully, Lutz returns to form with “Home, School, Office,” the lead story from the chapbook A Partial List of People to Bleach. While not quite packing as much punch as the best stories in Stories in the Worst Way, “You’re Welcome” and “Heartscald” (a compilation of microfictions, one of which is below) come close.

And then comes Divorcer. Lutz is suddenly writing stories that are twenty plus pages long, where before he rarely surpassed five or six. The collection’s title story is the closest Lutz has come to writing a classic New Yorker-style short story to this point in his career. Lutz astonishes in his ability to produce such prosaic density for such sustained works, and yet it becomes evident that Lutz’s linguistic acrobatics best serve the form of the very short story and not longer. Divorcer, while a stride forward in some respects, doesn’t hold the weight or staying power of Stories in the Worst Way. Nor does Assisted Living, the last independent publication of Lutz’s, which precedes the final section of the omnibus containing unpublished and new work. Ironically, the final story of the collection, “Am I Keeping You?” is Lutz’s best long story, standing at 20 pages, both more coherent and controlled than anything in Divorcer.

Which isn’t exactly a final verdict, because Gary Lutz isn’t at his best operating in a classical mode. Brevity is Lutz’s strength. Severe, crushing, prose so compacted, abstract, and emotionally resonant that you have no idea what he is saying but you know exactly what he means. The best of Stories in the Worst Way and Partial List of People to Bleach contain such manic fervor and confessional density that they feel like holy chunks of Lutz’s soul coughed up onto the page.

Gary Lutz is perhaps the best American writer of very short fictions. His best works are superior to those of his many imitators. Hyperbole, you say? Read the book and see.

Zack Graham’s writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, GQ, The Believer, and elsewhere. He is the recipient of an Emerging Critics Fellowship from the National Book Critics Circle, and is at work on a collection of short stories and a novel.