Nobody Goes to Earth Any More

Linda M. Bayley is a freelance writer based in Sudbury, Ontario. She is
the author of Estrangement: Poems.

“William had dyed himself blue and was dancing naked around a bonfire
at the bottom of the garden.”

These are the words with which Donald Ward launches us into Nobody Goes
to Earth Any More, his first collection of short stories. William is
dancing naked, his wife Dorothy is watching in horror, and their
sensible neighbour Sonal is pointing out that it could be much
worse—William could have an erection. Immediately, the tone is set.
Ward is preparing to get down to work. Directly, concisely, and
playfully.

From the quality of Ward’s writing, it is clear that he has carefully
studied and understands well the rules of his craft. It is equally clear
that he breaks these rules with glee, straying from convention on
purpose rather than by accident. Some of the stories take the reader out
of time or body, gently stretching his or her perceptions and guiding
them—not pulling or shoving—toward Ward’s way of looking at
things, without being so far out as to be called science fiction. There
are two or three works, however, in which Ward seems to be clinging to
safety. We visit London more than once, and we meet more than one
tenure-track professor. Without knowing Ward’s background, one gets
the impression that here he is merely following the old rule of writing
what he knows. Luckily, these stories are in the minority.

The stories in which Ward seems to take the most risks are the hidden
treats in this collection. It’s worth opening the book to find out why
nobody goes to Earth any more. When Ward leaves behind what he knows and
writes what he thinks, feels, and imagines, he sparkles.