"Livability" presents ironic, low-key take on Northwest

Portland writer Jon Raymond is probably best known for two recent movie adaptations of his short stories: "Old Joy" (2006) and the upcoming "Wendy and Lucy," both directed by Kelly Reichardt.

But his new book of short fiction, "Livability" (Bloomsbury, 260 pp., $15) shows him to be more varied in his range and talents than the movies might suggest. The stories that inspired the films are included in "Livability" — but they aren't necessarily the standouts in this strong collection.

Raymond's specialty is the urban Pacific Northwest, portrayed in tough yet sympathetic terms.

"I was trying to represent a fairly middle-class world," Raymond wrote via e-mail earlier this week. "Different from, say, a Kesey-ish world of tragic lumberjacks, or a Carver-ish world of beery bingo parlors and broken cars and such."

In "Young Bodies" — about a disgruntled Russian immigrant's daughter working at Portland's Lloyd Center mall — he captures the cultural disconnects in the Rose City's ethnic mix. He does something similar in "The Suckling Pig," in which a wealthy Asian-American suburbanite hires two Mexican day laborers for yardwork — and follows up with an awkward dinner invitation.

Raymond also delivers two note-perfect tales about children — "The Wind," in which a boy is coerced into a fight he'd rather avoid, and "New Shoes," about a precocious 7-year-old girl asking her father a series of "why" questions as they go on a shopping expedition.

With a sure and low-key instinct, Raymond gives you just what you need — and little more. In the process he evokes a Pacific Northwest that encompasses more than mountains and fir trees.

"A world without salmon or fly-fishing," he jokes.

"It's less a correction than an update, though," he adds. "I wanted to depict lives more like those that my friends and family are living."

The book's title is decidedly ironic. Raymond's characters may live in a city that, like Seattle, is touted for its "livability." Yet a number of them manage to mess up big-time in these "livable" environs.

"I've always found the word 'livability' hilarious," Raymond says. "I mean, is that really what we're shooting for here? Mere livability? I always thought the point of life was something richer than that. Something full of great tragedy or comedy, reversal of fortune, ecstasy, that kind of thing. But no, contemporary urban theorists seem satisfied with the merely livable."

Within this unified setting, Raymond steers his characters through some tricky ethical dilemmas — whether and how to help a crack-addicted friend; what to do when an artist-journalist interview takes an erotic turn; how soon to initiate romance with an old friend after losing your spouse (with whom things were never perfect).

"I was drawn to characters and situations that covered similar geographical ground, but divergent moral, socio-economic and cultural territory," Raymond notes. "The germs of the stories came from all over the place. I stole a goodly amount from friends and family, and tried to keep an eye on political moods. I do think of these characters as all part of the same community ... all facing similar questions about what exactly their duties are to each other, what they owe each other as people sharing time in the same place."

"Livability" puts readability first — and does its chosen regional terrain ample, agile justice.

Michael Upchurch: mupchurch@seattletimes.com