Kevin Clouther (He/Him) is the author of We Were Flying to Chicago: Stories (Catapult). His stories have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, Gulf Coast, J Journal, Joyland, and New Orleans Review among other journals, and he has contributed essays to The Millions, Salon, and Tin House. He holds degrees from the University of Virginia and Iowa Writers’ Workshop and is the recipient of the Richard Yates Fiction Award and Gell Residency Award. He is an Associate Professor at the University of Nebraska Omaha Writer’s Workshop, where he serves as Program Coordinator of the MFA in Writing.
In this striking debut collection, characters find unexpected moments of profound insight while navigating the monotony of daily life. Here we find a man who drives to the wrong mountain, a hubcap cleaner who moonlights as a karaoke star, and a deliveryman whose urgent letters have no willing recipient. While lulled by the deceptively simple rhythm of the ordinary, Kevin Clouther offers the instant before momentous change–the view over the cliff, the intake of breath before a decision, a glimpse of stark vulnerability, of faith and hope.
Clouther’s first collection of stories shows an ‘old’ talent–meaning, his sophistication in treatment and technique and his wise observations of the human condition have the feel of an author who has the experience of several story collections behind him. “Booklist, starred
In each story, Clouther finds the magic, mystery and story-telling potential in an otherwise ordinary, everyday world. “Iowa City Press-Citizen
The purpose of [Clouther’s] conceptual stories is to open a vein, tap into a raw emotion in the reader, and his beautiful, character-driven stories are case studies in those emotions. Clouther makes us feel, and then he gives our feelings skin. “Heavy Feather Review
Kevin Clouther’s collection of short stories is further evidence that some of the most interesting literary fiction is coming out of small presses. . . I can confidently report that this is writing that’s unmistakably alive and feral. . . Dare I say that I hear Raymond Carver and Ernest Hemingway echoing in my head? “David Abrams, The Quivering Pen