Glazy baronial types, with portentous and misguided names: Romulus and Creon, who were pleased to invite us to gala dinners, and to use us as their gloating mirrors. We met mining captains and fishing captains, whose whiskers quivered like those of orphaned seals. They are, of course, but the girls feel like they’re in on the scheme and, therefore, somehow in control. During the Depression, Clara and Aubergine, the first-person narrator of the piece, run away from home and make their way west, calling themselves “prospectors” because, to survive, they filch money from the men they seduce, men who think they’re taking advantage of the girls. It begins as a realistic story with a historical setting. In “The Prospector,” Russell goes to a favorite premise: a young person falls for - at least, temporarily - someone who is dead or some semblance thereof (see also “The Bog Girl,” Swamplandia!). I’m trying to figure out if I should feel as disappointed as I do, or if I should rewire my expectations a bit to enjoy these tales for what they are. This made me quite grumpy when I went through her collection Vampires in the Lemon Grove. The story dies quickly, and when you look at its corpse it appears withered, dry, and hollowed out. Rereading “The Prospectors” reminded of this - I enjoyed going through it again but the ending washed that enjoyment away. In fact, I quite liked the story I just didn’t like the ending. I walk away thinking I didn’t like the story. But sometimes by the end I’m disappointed. She has a sensibility that veers to the off-kilter and creepy, and I like it. See, usually when I read something by Karen Russell I’m drawn in by the voice and the imagined world.

Rereading the story has brought me to a moment of reflection. I’m posting on it again as part of an extended look at the stories in Russell’s latest collection, Orange World. A read this story a few years ago when it appeared in The New Yorker.

Proving up karen russell summary