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When Chapel Hill born and bred writer Ben Fountain (1958 – present) came to speak at my university, I eagerly searched his work on Wikipedia. To my surprise, I saw he had achieved much more than I initially thought. When my fiction writing professor asked me to read one of his stories before attending Fountain's lecture, I chose "Near-Extinct Birds of the Central Cordillera" and was instantly captivated. Now, having finally finished his 2006 Brief Encounters with Che Guevara, I'm filled with regret for not knowing what questions to ask him when the answers were right there in his pen. Because Brief Encounters is truly a teaching text. It has taught a writing student like myself so much at this ideal age for someone taking up the craft. Fountain's stories measure human oddity from the inside of the worldly turbulence he writes about. At first, as readers, we may be taken aback, but we quickly begin to see the oddities for what they are: human. That is to say, we observe intimately and with empathy. On the idea of "writing from the inside," Fountain brilliantly situates readers through his characters. In "Near-Extinct Birds," we see Columbian revolutionaries through the eyes of a grad student ornithologist. In "Fantasy for Eleven Fingers," we witness Pre-War anti-Semitism pitted against a child pianist crushed by her own talent. Besides his obvious diligent research, Fountain's dual conflicts allow us to experience the intimacy of one through the debilitating worldly weight of the other. Stacked up against his mountain of research - Fountain told me during his lecture that the 31-page "Near-Extinct Birds" came from nearly 500 pages of notebook paper - it might seem questionable to claim an intimacy in this collection. On the contrary, though; intimacy is what drives the reader to keep going. We feel a range of emotions - confused, angry, lost, guilty, and hopeful - alongside each of the well-meaning protagonists. We find ourselves equally stuck within the systems they can't control, to the point where we forget they're fictional. But then we remember most of these systems are not; jolted, we are probed under the ribs for thinking that the fiction in Brief Encounters was ever just a story. From the privileged side of the page, we become angry. We scorn the outside that we suddenly can look at from within. We recognize just how personal writing Brief Encounters with Che Guevara must have been for Ben Fountain because we recognize, hopefully, a newfound personal attachment of our own. His stories in this collection have taught me the political nature of art and the necessary emotion that drives your advocacy for the causes you care about. With Fountain as a guide, I hope to begin identifying what I care about enough to write one of the great story collections of the decade.