Jones’s fourth work of fiction contains 11 riveting stories of contemporary life in the American South and Midwest. Some have pandemic settings and others are gently magical; all are true to the anxieties of modern careers, marriage and parenthood. In the title story, the narrator, a harried mother and business school student in Kentucky, seeks to balance the opposing forces of her life and wonders what she might have to sacrifice. The ending elicits a gasp, as does the audacious inconclusiveness of “Exhaust,” a tense tale of a quarreling couple driving through a blizzard. Worry over environmental crises fuels “Ark,” about a pyramid scheme for doomsday preppers. Fans of Nickolas Butler and Lorrie Moore will find much to admire.

Often truth is weirder than fiction. There is something about the weirdness of coincidence that makes me double-take quite often. Did that really just happen? Are we really in year 2 of a global pandemic? Is there really war in Europe again? And did that bird just say 'hello' to me? So of course I was immediately intrigued by the stories promised in Antipodes. And I'm glad to say that Holly Goddard Jones delivers on the weirdness! Thanks to University of Iowa Press and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

The stories in Antipodes are full of disruption and unquiet. As such, they are the perfect stories to come out of the last few years. Nothing typifies this more than the collection's opening story in which a mother serves as a committee member for a temple built around a bottomless sinkhole. The endless void of this sinkhole, its cool chill, its undeniable pull, it all feels utterly real to the many of us who have been staring into something of an emotional abyss during the COVID-19 pandemic and the many other disasters, great and small, that have befallen us the past few years. With stories so deeply focused on emptiness and sadness, it is surprising how gentle Jones' stories are nonetheless. Reading Antipodes is not a depressing experience as one might expect. Instead I experiences a growing sense of reassurance that I wasn't the only one who explored some dark depths during this time.

The titular story 'Antipodes' is the one mentioned above, of a mother circling a massive sinkhole while worrying about the maybe-imagined hole in her own head. 'Exhaust' is a story of a couple, an early morning departure, and growing sense of loss. This one, oddly enough, stayed with me for a long time. The third story, 'Stars', works through contrast, starting with a smooth yet weary politician, pausing on a weary and worried mother, before ending on her contemplative child. It is a story of missed connections and of what impressions we leave behind. 'Fortress' focuses on a once-hip interior designer who begins to reckon with the choices he made during his life. I connected deeply with 'Distancing', a story about female discontent, the call of nature, and of letting go. 'Axis' was a bittersweet insight into the relationship between a mother and daughter, their regrets and loves, and their deep desire to be more connected. 'Visitation' was probably my least favourite story, perhaps because its focus on a disappointing middle-aged man moving back in with his parents and confronting his own childhood didn't entirely click with me. The fascinating 'Ark' sees stay-at-home moms guilt-tripped into potentially investing in a doomsday prepper's haven in case "the libs come for your guns". 'Shelter' and its group of adults trying to grasp at youth and easy was an odd story, yet one whose images have also lingered. Some of the stories feel utterly vicious, emotionally that is, like 'Machine' in which a writer copes with the ending of her relationship and her ongoing struggles to "be a writer". Elements of this story cut so deep that they're almost belied by the straightforward prose. 'Swallows' was a beautiful story to end the collection on, a story about love and its pitfalls, how we expect the worst, and how sometimes good can nonetheless come.

Antipodes was my first introduction to Holly Goddard Jones, despite her extensive oeuvre so far. What struck me most with Jones' writing was its precision. Each of these stories is meticulous in how it builds up a crescendo of doubt, or angst, or anxiety, or just unease. In some cases, this build up is one that happens due to your own experience, which Jones then lovingly overturns. As I mentioned above, I found an odd comfort in this collection of messy people, messy worlds, and messy moments. There is real darkness in the world and not all of it is made up with clear violence. Sometimes it's just a side glance, an overheard whisper, or a moment of embarrassment that is enough to give rise to that internal void. How Jones manages to not make this a depressing reading experience I'm not sure, but I do know that for me it wasn't. I will most definitely be looking for more of her books in the future, like The Salt Line and Girl Trouble: Stories.

Antipodes is a confronting collection, but not a dark one in and of itself. Dont' be fooled, these stories all circle around a void, around a darkness, but Jones never entirely abandons you there as she demonstrates that we are all there, circling.

I'm not a big fan of short stories, but I really enjoyed Holly Goddard Jones's The Salt Line when my post-apocalyptic book club read it a couple of years ago. I hadn't read any of her other works, but I know she often writes about motherhood. So I expected that to be the theme of her short stories.

I looked up the definition of antipodes because I wasn't exactly sure what it meant. It means the exact opposite of something or it is a reference (when used by people in the Northern Hemisphere) to New Zealand and Australia.

My thought that the stories would revolve around the theme of motherhood was pretty accurate. Many of the stories had a mother as the main character and the few stories that didn't were still about family in some sense.

The stories are, for the most part, slice-of-life kind of stories. Some of the stories were a bit stranger than I like. For example, in "Distancing" which is set during the early days of the pandemic when everyone was staying home. The mother takes a daily walk in the woods and one day she starts eating dirt. When she tells her doctor friend she mentions that it might be the change - meaning menopause. They act like this is normal, and the main character recalls that when her mother went through the change she disappeared for a while. I thought she meant metaphorically, but I think she meant it literally.

I found "Swallows" to be a sweet story about new love. Whereas the story that preceded it, "Machine " served as a counterpoint in a sense. I found it kind of depressing. The main character is a struggling writer who has taken on a short-term visiting lecturer position. She's sharing the guest house with the visiting artist and she fantasizes about the three weeks they will spend together. Nothing goes as planned. I could only muster a little sympathy for her.

Ironically, "Machine" was originally published under the title "The Right Way to End a Story " and I felt like a few of the stories did not have an ending. Like the title story "Antipodes". It felt like it just stopped. At first, I thought perhaps that this was a collection of short stories where in the end they all tie together with a conclusion. That wasn't the case.

But not have a true resolution wasn't always bad. I enjoyed "Exhaust" though the ending is somewhat open-ended. It had all the makings of the urban legends we told around the campfire when I was a kid.

I thought all the stories where well written, even the ones I didn't particularly enjoy. If you are a fan of short stories, then this is a great collection with a bit of variety among the stories.

My review will be published at Girl Who Reads on Thursday - https://www.girl-who-reads.com/2022/05/antipodes-stories-by-holly-goddard.html

I very much enjoye the first two titles - particularly Exhaust, which was compelling and unnerving. I wasn't as taken with the rest of the stories, I found them slightly lacking.