No one belongs here more than you.

I think I love Miranda July. I know she's considerably older than I am, but still. Just look at her. And even before I saw her stunningly beautiful photo (above) staring out from the inside-back sleeve of her first book, No one belongs here more than you, when I had only read the first few stories, I knew it. Miranda July can write and I love her for it.

Billed as a filmmaker, writer, and performing artist, July is best known for writing, directing, and starring in the 2005 film You, Me, and Everyone We Know. I haven't seen the movie except for a couple scenes, but I feel compelled to watch it now after reading her stories. The stories in No one belongs here more than you. are burdened by an overarching sadness that extends beyond the characters being down on their luck or in the middle of hard times. July's characters are crippled by a sadness that flows from within, and is coupled by irreparable breaks with the people closest to them. The mood is only deepened when, in many stories, a recognition scene of sorts is realized by the parties involved, and characters see and accept a doomed fate well before they act upon it.


Triumphs are short-lived and often questionably executed, like making money through giving personal fantasy sessions in the back of adult sex shops in Something That Needs Nothing, or connecting with a soul mate even if it means that person is a mentally challenged 14-year old student of yours in Making Love in 2003. The character's positive moments are rarely positive for any reason other than any human connection is a step forward. July's writing makes a strong argument that to be utterly alone is somehow better than to be in society but practically isolated. The latter offers the opportunity for torture - watching the world spin perfectly the same without your own input on it.

Almost all stories in July's compilation contain a theme of sex and sexuality. A 15-year old narrator is raped nightly by a 'dark shape' that is best summed up as a glowing orb. Best friends are lovers only when one is wearing a wig. In Majesty, a woman has reoccurring dreams of Prince William having sex with her at a party where low ceilings force attendees to crawl on all fours. However, the feeling of sadness and sex are never pried apart. While intercourse and sexual feelings may be euphoric to certain characters, it is never divorced from the relationship, from human emotion, and most importantly, from the situation in the story once the sex is finished.

July has supportive quotes on the back cover from two higher profile figures, Dave Eggers and David Byrne, and she is affiliated with the McSweeney's crew, I believe. She should have no problem getting any boost she needs to write. July's emotionally hurt yet fully open style is beautiful. Her stories, especially the longer ones, can really hit home, and can bring pains in the most terrible ways, making the heart and stomach feel bruised and vulnerable. Easily, this is the best fiction I've read this year.