« older | Main Largehearted Boy Page | newer »
March 28, 2022
Erica Plouffe Lazure's Playlist for Her Story Collection "Proof of Me"
In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Amy Bloom, Aimee Bender, Roxane Gay, and many others.
Erica Plouffe Lazure's debut collection Proof of Me has been compared to the works of Flannery O'Connor and Eudora Welty for its humor and ever-grounding sense of place, but it is the wholly original storytelling that makes it special.
David Gates wrote of the book:
"If you can imagine Flannery O'Connor watching Wheel of Fortune or hearing a bad version of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' at karaoke night, that might give you some idea of Erica Plouffe Lazure's Proof of Me. In these darkly comic linked stories, the reader encounters a meticulous eye for detail, a keen ear for American voices, and an astringent sympathy for men who mow their lawns 'bare-chested, pot-belly proud' and women who know 'there's always problems with the mens, long as there been mens.'"
In her own words, here is Erica Plouffe Lazure's Book Notes music playlist for her debut novel Proof of Me:
Turns out, the people in the stories I tell dig music. You could argue, even, that some of them just might make a darn good country song, if they weren’t already trapped somewhere in the pages of Proof of Me. But in a short story collection that includes a cryptic mix-tape, a honky-tonk cover band, a skateboarding purse-thief, a shad queen, a deceased German philosopher, and a demolition derby, these peculiar intersections and overlaps—of story, of character, of object, of geography, of musical genre—seem to abide by their own inner logic. And perhaps, alongside the music, it’s the geography—rural eastern North Carolina, or the memory of it—that binds these characters and their stories together.
“Tumblin’ Dice,” Rolling Stones
In my story, “Cadence,” narrator Billy Dice spends the whole story justifying his secret tryst with his best friend Joey’s girlfriend. But maybe Joey knew all along, because why else would he have added “Tumblin’ Dice” to Becky Barker’s Boot Camp mix tape? This bluesy tune overlaid with Mick Jagger’s swaggering wails seems to suggest both Dice and Jagger like to play the victim more than they ought.
“I’ll Be There for You,” Bon Jovi
You can probably count on one hand (okay, maybe two) the number of mix tapes crafted in the early ‘90s that did NOT include a Jon Bon Jovi song, and so it makes sense that Joe would tack this hit single onto his own compilation to Becky. There was a time, in seventh grade, when I unironically loved Bon Jovi: loved his big hair, his open-book grin, the leather pants, the story-driven “Livin’ on a Prayer” style songs that touched on all the longing and optimism a Gen-Xer might have once felt, before the Winona Ryder-inspired gloom and cynicism of the late-nineties kicked in. Ah well.
“He Stopped Loving Her Today,” George Jones
George Jones is one of a long line of country crooners that, if you listen long enough (or for even just a song or two), your heart will break over and over and over. Certainly, in “Cadence,” Joe’s undying love for his cheatin’ heart girlfriend may have been tragically one-sided, but part of what keeps Billy Dice up at night is that he’ll never know.
“Ghost Riders in the Sky,” Johnny Cash
In my story, “The Ghost Rider,” country cover band guitarist Quentin can’t quite decide what he wants in life, and soon learns if he doesn’t figure it out soon, someone else will decide for him. And to underscore the plight of the nameless souls like Quentin, forever destined to roam the sky (or streets) solo, there’s nothing like the haunting cautionary tale from the Man in Black himself: “cowboy, change your ways today, or with us you will ride…”
“I Say Nothing,” Voice of the Beehive
The mid- ‘90s were rich with alt-pop college radio station one-hit wonders (shout out to 95.5 WBRU Providence!), and for a good stretch, “I Say Nothing” remained in heavy rotation. Its critique of the gossipy ways of the “beehive” also speaks to the benefits and perils of keeping your mouth shut. As biologist and bee enthusiast Ted Murphy comes to realize in “Spawning Season,” his own decision to keep quiet (and not follow the love advice from all the critters he studies) may leave him more alone—or lonely—than he initially thinks.
“One’s on the Way,” Loretta Lynn
The Coal Miner’s Daughter knows only too well how a having a kid or three might slow you down from finding fame and fortune—although stardom seemed to find Loretta Lynn just fine, babies and all. Part musical theater, part old-wave feminism, “One’s on the Way” taunts Quentin with more than just a few harsh realities as he wallows through his George Dickel’s. You could probably pick any Loretta Lynn song (or Dolly Parton! Or Emmylou Harris!) and find at its heart a person trying to make peace with someone they’re supposed to love.
“Mean,” Taylor Swift and “Since you Put me Down,” Margo Price
I picture Sage (in “The Ghost Rider”) to have the ambitions and voice of Taylor Swift with the grit and guitar of Margo Price, without that high-gloss Nashville polish. (See: Price, performing in a piney motor lodge, wearing a Loretta Lynn-inspired powder blue dress.) Unlike Quentin, Sage knows what she wants, and will make it her business to get it. Whether “One’s on the Way” or not, will Quentin come along for the ride?
“Golden Ring,” George Jones and Tammy Wynette
If you’ve lived through enough ups and downs of relationship drama, you might, if you’re lucky, start to see a pattern and change your ways. And if you’re unlucky, you just might write a book (or find yourself inside one). With pitch-perfect harmonies and delightful chord escalation and a sunny sound that sparkles brighter than any of Tammy’s dresses, this heartbreaker of a duet conveys the tragic downfall of a couple in love, through the story of —you guessed it—a golden ring. And what does it say that George and Tammy continued to perform this song in public every so often, long after their D-I-V-O-R-C-E? I’ll let you decide!
“Cinnamon Girl,” Neil Young
Neil Young has probably never read my fiction, even though I titled my chapbook, Sugar Mountain, after one of his songs. But with her coppery hair and loner lifestyle, Cassidy Penelope Turner (featured in “The Duck Walk,” “Selvage,” and “Proof of Me”) is pretty much who comes to mind when I hear this song. The bright melodies and hand-claps that energize the heart of “Cinnamon Girl” counter beautifully that lingering, afterthought guitar solo growling its way through the silence, leaving you with that edgy, lonesome sensation that bubbles up in all of us from time to time. Neil Young, thank you for that.
“Greased Lightning,” John Travolta
Growing up in a gas station, the “Greased Lightning” scene in Grease has always inspired my inner dancer and armchair mechanic. How many car hoods did I stand on as a child, using a wrench as a microphone, imitating for my imaginary audience John Travolta’s pelvic-thrust dance moves? The demolition derby prep scene in my story “Selvage” was pretty much the opposite of that—instead of spiffing up a beloved car, Cass and her Uncle Andy are preparing one for its own funeral. If anyone ever tells you that cars don’t have souls, please tell them they are wrong.
“Running on Empty,” Jackson Browne
I love how time soars through this song, how Jackson Browne recounts different moments of his younger life in snapshots, reflecting back on what it means to live constantly on the move. The people in Proof of Me are also always on the move—a character who narrates one story might make a cameo in another, or perhaps they find themselves in India or California or New England, yet remain tethered (gently or not) to the fictionalized town of Mewborn, North Carolina. For me, “Running on Empty” is one of the first rock songs I remember hearing where I could feel the story in the lyrics (“Afternoon Delight” by Starland Vocal Band is another. I asked my mom what “afternoon delight” meant, and she actually told me. Thanks, Mom!). I still love hearing (and playing!) that definitive D chord slam down on the guitar neck in “Running’s” opening riff. Somehow, it contains the whole open road ahead.
“The Power Lines,” Nanci Griffith
This schmaltzy homage to the guy who fixes the electricity towers seems fitting for Shirley Weaver, who, as we learn in “Azimuth and Altitude,” has a way of seeing the world that is wholly her own. Starved for meaningful human connection, Shirl delights instead in the glowing monster metal constellations dotting her landscape, imagines into another life as a lighthouse tender, and finds her demise endeavoring to craft a beacon of her own.
“Left of Center,” Suzanne Vega
I first came across Suzanne Vega on the once-ubiquitous but now functionally defunct MTV (check out Vega’s videos, “Luka,” for one, “Tom’s Diner,” or “Solitude Stands”) and have always been drawn in by her ability to ring true the voice of lonely longing. So, it was no surprise to hear that she’d been influenced by none other than Carson McCullers. An arguably under-the-radar Southern writer, McCullers’ personal bouts with loneliness and isolation, her gender challenging aesthetic, and ever-watchful gaze manifests beautifully in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and Member of the Wedding, and inevitably inspired my own approach to fiction. As with many of the characters in Proof of Me, Vega’s “Left of Center” embodies the voice of the outsider looking in, longing for both connection and community, yet stoppered somehow by a range of barriers that keep them embracing (or slouching toward) isolation. And perhaps, with most things in life, it is not the grand ballroom wedding or new car but rather a garland of twinkling lights, a suitcase of handmade dresses, or a broken heirloom watch that could affirm the possibility (but not the promise) of connection.
“In Your Room,” The Bangles
This super-sexy, high-energy, under-the-radar Bangles tune brings in all the thrill and energy that Ursula Burns experiences in her sexual encounter with Juniper Weaver in “Annealed.” In the same vein as the Go-Gos and Throwing Muses, I suspect that history will be kind to The Bangles, one of a handful of mid-eighties-early nineties, all-girl-led, rock bands that really know their way around a gritty pop song.
“Islands in The Stream,” Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton
It would be weird not to include in this list a song about water, given that the Neuse River and the regionally famous Shad Festival in North Carolina surfaces time and again in Proof of Me. The Kenny-Dolly duo is a perennial family favorite and that melody has some serious staying power (see: Pras’ 1998 hit “Ghetto Supastar”). As kids, my brother and I used to sing along to “The Gambler” on a reel-to-reel deck at our grandparents’ house and watched Dolly Parton sing on the Mandrell Sisters show. So, we go way back. But as a reprieve from the tumultuously cyclical storyline in “Golden Ring,” “Islands in the Stream,” with its balmy eighties soft sound and themes of endlessly flowing, romantic love, what’s not to like? This song is pure joy, through and through, a bit of solid land on which a few of my characters (but not many) sometimes find themselves.
“Moonlight Sonata,” and “Pathetique,” by Igor Levit
I must confess, as famous as Igor Levit is, I had never heard of this world-class pianist before I started doing research for my story, “Verbindung Durst Angst,” in search of a musician who would make an interesting counterpart to Keith Jarrett, and who might actually be invited by the Goethe Society to perform at a memorial for a deceased philosopher of German descent. The variation of the two pieces—one a classic rendition of a beloved standard, the other, a secret dig to Caldon, the unsuspecting narrator, in one of his most vulnerable moments, truly ushers him to his pathetic fate.
The Køln Concert album, Keith Jarrett
I first heard The Køln Concert album in college, and was taken by Keith Jarrett’s delicate treatment of notes, his thin voice emerging as though from spontaneous engagement with the melody, the thundering applause after the first 26-minute interval. The presence of this album in “Verbindung” endeavored to remind Caldon that in order to “win” (at life, or at anything else), he needn’t be the loudest or most boisterous or “best” of the bunch. He just needs to show up.
“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Queen
“Bohemian Rhapsody” is certainly the odd duck on this list, but what moves me is how each section of the song juxtaposes and propels toward the next, crafting an ornately “extra” but ultimately delightful mishmash of harmonies and a grand, impassioned, over-the-top electric, crank-it-up sound. It also takes me back to Steak and Karaoke night at Player’s Retreat in Pactolus, North Carolina, where the one-legged cook we all called Cowboy would grill up the best seven-dollar steak in all of Pitt County as we took turns singing the likes of Eddie Rabbit, The Byrds, Salt-n-Pepa, and Shania Twain. One night, a friend of mine dragged me up to torture the crowd with our homegrown version of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” We sang all six minutes of it, only to hear the DJ state, in the stunned silence that followed, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, you won’t hear THAT one on Cat Country Radio.” And he was right! The incongruity of voices and energies in “Bohemian Rhapsody” sonically achieves what I aspire for Proof of Me—calamitous, energetic, a bit beautiful, certainly strange, and wholly its own.
Erica Plouffe Lazure is the author of the New American Fiction Prize-winning collection, PROOF OF ME AND OTHER STORIES (March 24, 2022; New American Press), as well as two flash fiction chapbooks, Sugar Mountain (Ad Hoc Press, 2020) and Heard Around Town (Arcadia, 2015), and a fiction chapbook, Dry Dock (Red Bird, 2014). Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, the Greensboro Review, The MacGuffin, Carve Magazine, Phoebe, Meridian, Iron Horse Review, American Short Fiction, The Journal of Micro Literature, Fiction Southeast, Southeast Review, Smokelong Quarterly, Flash: the International Short-Short Story Magazine (UK), and elsewhere. She is a graduate of the Bennington Writing Seminars, East Carolina University's MA in creative writing, and UMass-Amherst. She has taught English at East Carolina University, Phillips Exeter Academy in Exeter, NH, and at School Year Abroad in Viterbo, Italy. You can visit her online at ericaplouffelazure.com.
If you appreciate the work that goes into Largehearted Boy, please consider making a donation.
