The Weight of a Second
Nathaniel Lee Hansen’s debut short story collection was lost in the chaos of the COVID-19 pandemic, but his sensitive, realistic depictions of normal life deserve more attention from readers.
Review by Mark Bennion
Measuring Time contains eleven short stories and one novella. Expectation and anticipation, calculating and reflecting, musing and forward thinking abound in nearly every narrative. Hansen’s stories examine coming of age experiences—the first attempt to speak with a potential beloved, the complexities of dealing with an overbearing father, the casual conversations where subtext is more important than what’s spoken. Hansen’s eye for capturing all the jitters associated with first time encounters pervades this work. Plots conjure up lackluster classes, the slippery nature of meaning, mind games while dating, the desire to say “No” when the pressure is on to say “Yes.”
From the book’s opening pages, Hansen’s stories make us wonder, how does time become a burden or ally in our employment? Why do we spend time worrying over what others think? When is an hour a neutral marker, and when does everything boil down to a single second?
These queries maneuver the plots and color the psychological realism of Hansen’s characters. These folks inhabit flyover country where corn fields, muscle cars, and one-stoplight towns are simple and elegant in Hansen’s matter-of-fact delineations. Even after I’ve read a story or two, I feel as if I’ve found a new home outside of Wichita or Sioux Falls. The novelist Ron Carlson notes what Hansen aptly induces. He “convince[s] me of the highway, the tire, the night, the margin, the shoulder, the gravel under [the] knees, the lug nuts, the difficulty getting the whole thing apart and back together” (qtd. in Janet Burroway’s Imaginative Writing). And as he carries me around “[t]he hills lacking trees, the swell of blue sky, the expanse of water to the north, the deep valley to the south on the other side of the dam” I begin to care about these characters and their choices.
One such character is Alana, the protagonist in “The Rez Fairy.” Kids on a local reservation give her this moniker because she frequently brings snacks and trinkets. She is a newly minted counselor who regularly visits her clients. She inhabits a liminal space, savvy to the challenges existing between white and Native cultures. On one hand, she sticks to the world of appointments. Her professional growth and success are tied to schedules. On the other hand, her tween clients would rather play outside and skip weekly interviews. She is idealistic enough to know that her efforts can make a positive impact in people’s lives. However, she’s realistic too, understanding her charges come from a place where life doesn’t revolve around deadlines.
Following an afternoon of missed appointments, she encounters a hitchhiker, John Runs-Like-a-Deer, while traveling home. John is a grandfather who has seen his share of hardship. Yet, his trials don’t impinge on his affable nature. As Alana drops him off at a casino, he asks if he can buy her dinner. Due to his kindness and timing, she accepts. While ordering her meal, Alana notices Alex, one of her ten-year-old clients, also eating at the restaurant with his family and his mom’s new boyfriend. Alex throws a fit, knocking a cup of soda on the floor. Prior to witnessing this incident, Alana thought the family was making headway when it came to discipline. In the spirit of doing her duty, she walks over to the table to provide emotional support. Instead, though, Alex sends another drink flying, which splatters all over her grey sweater. By this time, everyone in the restaurant gawks in on the scene. John hobbles over to assist his discouraged friend. Alana knows she must leave the restaurant right away to preserve her sanity and dignity.
John nodded, not saying anything, and at that moment Alana understood how, despite his humor and disposition, both age and sorrow had shattered cracks across his face. He extended his free arm—perhaps offering a handshake—but she took it and pulled it around her body, heard the sudden intake of breath as he winced at her wet sweater…. She was trembling, but he held her steady. She thought, here was someone who knew what she was up against.
Alana replays the scene many times, causing her to see reconciliation and discord within the same experience. Even as Alex pushes Alana to the brink of exasperation, John becomes an unanticipated lifeline, a source of needed understanding amid a taxing situation.
Perhaps what’s best about this book is Hansen’s ability to show characters on the cusp of renewal and redemption.
This support is exactly what Dr. Timothy Ford wants. Tim is one year into his work as an assistant professor. His dilemma centers on whether he should hang a local wildlife artist’s print in his office. Will colleagues think he has poor taste, preferring commercial art to work of the masters? Will students feel the same aesthetic glow he experiences when looking at this painting? He imagines and even dreams of irrational responses to the work. He spends too much time worrying, when in the end his expectations are overturned by a student and colleague. The story speaks of the Jungian persona we often portray to the world. Tim wants to be authentic and liked. He will not sacrifice one value for the other but does not know what to privilege. Hansen allows us to see the humor and angst under Tim’s veneer. He appears to be grounded in the best theories and practices of his discipline, yet he believes a wall print can lead to his undoing in the department. Tim’s fear strikes a chord for anyone straining to fit in.
“The Rez Fairy” and “Wildlife” are stellar examples of one of Hansen’s greatest strengths: capturing an individual’s ambivalence. This ability to highlight a character’s contradictions continues to shine in Hansen’s laugh-out-loud story “Vocations” and in his short-short “Unnamed Notebook.” This latter page-and-a-half piece is only two sentences, describing the awkward preamble when a lovestruck teenage boy approaches a young woman. It’s a story of exquisite secondary school detail, rounded out by turns that indirectly echo a scene from Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. Both narratives reveal how much can happen in a single minute.
Perhaps what’s best about this book is Hansen’s ability to show characters on the cusp of renewal and redemption. Both will and faith undergird these characters’ choices in natural, everyday contexts. As some individuals face situational irony, we see them learning how to love their neighbors, how to forgive as the future remains uncertain, how to shrug off misunderstandings and serve regardless of personal cost. These qualities are evident without any kind of sermonizing. Another way of saying it is the themes in this book are organic and edifying without being heavy-handed and didactic.
In finishing the book, I was caught in a conundrum: I felt satiated by stories of people navigating unique physical, emotional, and spiritual terrain. At the same time, I wanted more narratives in different contexts, perhaps of people at later stages in life—someone, say, newly retired or a grandmother thinking about assisted living or a dancer returning from an injury. I am unabashed to say I wait eagerly for a future collection in which Hansen continues to deliver stories examining the different facets of time and portraying characters that naturally reveal the many worlds of the heart.
For the past two decades Mark Bennion has taught writing and literature courses at Brigham Young University-Idaho. His most recent book is Ambrosia: Love poems (Finishing Line Press, 2024).
Measuring Time and Other Stories was published by Wiseblood Books on August 19, 2019. Fare Forward appreciates their provision of a review copy. You can purchase your own copy from the publisher here.
