Alix Ohlin's short story collection We Want What We Want is about longing for more — read an excerpt now
We Want What We Want is a finalist for the Atwood Gibson Writers' Trust Fiction Prize
We Want What We Want by Alix Ohlin is a finalist for the 2021 Atwood Gibson Writers' Trust Fiction Prize.
The winner of the $60,000 prize will be announced on Nov. 3, 2021.
We Want What We Want is a short story collection by Giller Prize-nominated writer Alix Ohlin. These stories explore parenthood, lost loves, wasted potential and more, showcasing life's humour, discomfort and beauty.
Ohlin is a Vancouver-based writer and the current chair of the creative writing program at the University of British Columbia. Her books include the novels Inside, Dual Citizens and the short story collection Signs and Wonders. Both Inside and Dual Citizens were finalists for the Scotiabank Giller Prize.
You can read an excerpt from We Want What We Want below.
When Trisha comes to town we have to go out. She's the bitterest soccer mom of all time and as part of her escape from home she wants to get drunk and complain about her workaholic husband and overscheduled, ungrateful children. No one appreciates how much she does for them. All she does is give, give, give, without getting anything back, et cetera.
I don't really mind — I enjoy a good martini, and while Trisha rants I don't have to worry about getting sloppy, given that she's always sloppier — except that even her complaints are part boast. She has to mention her busy husband and the $200,000 he rakes in a year. Her children's after-school activities for the gifted are just so freaking expensive and time consuming. There's a needle in every one of these remarks, pricking at my skin, saying, See, Sherri? See? I do see. I see it perfectly clearly.
She's the bitterest soccer mom of all time and as part of her escape from home she wants to get drunk and complain about her workaholic husband and overscheduled, ungrateful children.
This year she shows up with new hair. Her old hair was nicer — she inherited our mother's dark, shiny waves instead of the thin, blond frizz I got from our dad's side — but now she's highlighted it two or maybe three different shades, I can't really tell. There are some blond stripes in there, some red, something she calls "caramel." Her head looks like candy corn.
LISTEN | Alix Ohlin discusses her fiction:
"You like?" she asks as soon as she gets inside my house, setting her luggage down. It's a rhetorical question, so I don't answer. She's wearing pink Juicy Couture sweatpants and a French manicure and looks like she could be on one of those reality shows, a housewife from somewhere, mascara'd and miserable. I give her a hug and tell her I'm glad she came, which is mostly true. She is my competition, my Irish twin, the thorn in my side. Also: she is my best and oldest friend.
She is my competition, my Irish twin, the thorn in my side. Also: she is my best and oldest friend.
She takes a deep breath and looks around my house, stretching out her hands like she's feeling the air inside it.
"I'm so glad to be home," she says, by which she means Easton. Because she lives off in Silver Spring, Maryland, she can afford — in addition to a five-bedroom McMansion and a Lincoln Navigator — to be sentimental about the Lehigh Valley. She's always inviting me to visit her place but I don't feel comfortable. It's not her husband's fault. He's actually nice, Mike, but I sit around the table with him quizzing the kids on homework and current events and I keep a vacant smile going while I think, I'm not smart enough for this.
Excerpted from We Want What We Want by Alix Ohlin. ©2021 Alix Ohlin. Published by House of Anansi Press. Reproduced by arrangement with the Publisher. All rights reserved.
