Tim MacGabhann’s Saints Explores Resilience and Connection in Modern Mexico
A new collection of short stories, Saints by Tim MacGabhann (ISBN-13: 978-1068355516, Scratch Books, £10.99), offers a compelling portrait of survival, human connection, and courage amidst the complexities of contemporary Mexico.
Tim MacGabhann’s Saints doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of life, instead presenting a nuanced and deeply humane exploration of the everyday struggles and quiet triumphs of individuals navigating a challenging world. The nine stories within trace the “fragile rhythms of survival,” as the publisher notes, and offer a powerful reminder of the enduring human spirit.
The collection opens with “Chair,” a visceral depiction of addiction set against the backdrop of a rain-soaked Mexico City. An individual battling addiction is shown hauling sandbags across a rooftop, the neon lights of the city blurring around him. He confesses, “I am just always trying to make less stuff happen all the time,” a statement that resonates as both resignation and a desperate attempt to maintain control. The scene within – a sanctuary of mismatched furniture, coffee, and the music of Depeche Mode – highlights the possibility of finding “ordinary holiness” in unexpected places.
MacGabhann demonstrates a cinematic eye for detail, particularly in “Cleaner.” The story evokes the tension of the film Heat, with one character recalling De Niro’s “careful, frowning precision” while observing another. The narrative skillfully portrays the delicate balance between addiction and care, following Lucio’s routines and his administration of naloxone. Empathy is a defining characteristic of MacGabhann’s writing, allowing readers to connect with characters facing difficult circumstances.
“Satellite” presents a striking contrast between the mundane and the cosmic. A retired marine turned police officer, Alejandro, patrols the predawn streets, witnessing a Chinese satellite splash down in the Gulf. This juxtaposition – rain-slicked roads and chilaquiles alongside a celestial event – encapsulates a central theme of Saints: the struggle for survival against overwhelming forces.
Elsewhere, the stories delve into moral complexities and personal revelations. A sewer worker in “Dive” offers a stark warning: “Whatever you do, if you’re not doing something to make it better, you’re making it worse.” In “Beach,” Helena confronts her past, recalling the political unrest she fled in the United States in 1973, a situation that feels disturbingly relevant in today’s climate.
The title story, “Saints,” centers on Veronica’s act of restoring a damaged Maximón statue, a poignant expression of mourning for her son. Her grief is powerfully conveyed through the line, “Every time Carlos left the house, I’d get this tearing feeling … now he’s never going to come through the door again.”
Throughout Saints, MacGabhann masterfully blends dark humor with profound humanity. The collection is a testament to the power of connection and the enduring capacity for courage, not just on the streets of Mexico, but within the shared experiences of human life. Yvonne Watterson, an Irish writer living in Mexico, accurately describes the work as being “alive to everyday miracles.”
