“Black Country” is one of those stories that I pull out when I just want to enjoy words at their most direct. The clean, crisp stuff that grabs you right away. Relentless movement can clear a lot of garbage out of your head.
Also, pretty much every time I read it, I buy some jazz CDs afterward.
“Black Country” is a jazz story and Charles Beaumont is all hopped up on it. His prose darts this way and that. There’s ferocious energy to it, a luminous joy even, as it deals with difficult people.
Our narrator is a drummer in a jazz combo, which is perfect. His words are blunt, but always musical. He sees everything. He’s always there, keeping time, driving the rhythm. The people in this story never have heart-to-heart conversations–at least not in words. They communicate with music and, thanks to this guy, we don’t miss a thing.
Continue reading “Thoughts on Short Stories: Charles Beaumont’s “Black Country” (1955)”