Erica Trabold’s “A List of Concerns”, which is the third chapter of her book “Five Plots”, explores her relationship with her sister and a nostalgic Nebraskan prairie. It is quite literally formatted as a list of concerns, which gives the whole chapter new meaning. It starts out fairly normally, listing things like “3. Glue left behind on wrinkled skin,” and “9. The apologies I can’t remember if I’ve made.” Then, it transitions to include more traditional storytelling. Concern number ten explains a childhood habit of making lists with friends, offering examples like Christmas wish lists and desirable qualities of a future husband. It ends with, “Our lists were demanding, the requirements exhaustive.” The rest of the chapter continues, offering a combination of short and long concerns.
Some of the numbers make plenty of sense why they ended up on a list of concerns. These include “29. The childish temptation to break every rule,” and “86. The predictable way the blades [of grass] slice at my skin and leave behind a stinging rash.” Those sound pretty worthy of concern to me. Some of the numbers, however, I would not consider to be concerning if they were not on the list. An example of this is:
“46. When we were kids, we planned our weddings. Alie planned most. She picked out colors and the dresses, the groom and the flowers. She wrote a list describing the man she would marry. He would own a farm. He would like to read. He wouldn’t believe in divorce.”
The knowledge that the author feels some sort of negativity about it changes the experience of reading it. It might have just been a sweet memory, but the reader knows there is more to it. The sentence about divorce feels like a Chekhov’s Gun. Sure enough, number forty-seven begins, “When Alie married for the first time, we were nineteen.” The first time implies there is a second, which implies the husband she found did believe in divorce. Although not every number on the list is concerning on its own, the story provides context for why this selection of facts and stories are troubling. Number fifty-three is actually left blank, but it is surrounded by pieces of a story of Trabold not attending her sister’s second wedding. There is enough for the reader to come to her own conclusions.
The chapter also explores a past filled with regrettable actions and words. Trabold admits to some shameful things she did as a girl, but it is clear she wouldn’t repeat any of it as the person she is now. She indirectly offers a piece of explanation, writing “…I had the kind [of mother] who never told me to stop and consider how my words might cause another person pain.” Through the parts of the stories she tells, Trabold shares a tale of growth. This is my favorite chapter so far, because of both the format and the story.