1 hour ago · Writing · hide · 0 comments

The story begins with a tailor in a town…. That week, the richest merchant in town had ripped his pants in the ass, and the tailor sewed them up and returned them, and then the lady-in-waiting’s arm tore off, possibly because of a torrid affair with the coachman, the most lively and generous lover she’d ever had, and the tailor enjoyed hearing the reasons, told to him in hushed voices, as the clothing was turned in to him to mend, and each day he was busy repairing people’s activities, meanwhile stitching and basting, taking walks, eating slices of salami. But as the week drew to a close, and as he began to close up shop early on a Saturday afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Aimee Bender stories have a way of defying expectations. In this case, we have a town where the contemporary (space-time) is combined with the centuries-old (coachmen, ladies-in-waiting), salty language mixed in with a fairy-tale lilt. It’s a kind of code-switching that makes Bender one of my favorites.…

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