When a man in a suit made of cockroaches meets a man in a suit made of Twinkies -- well, that's about as easy as subtraction gets. From Jeremy Robert Johnson's Extinction Journals About a year ago I came across this novella, fell in love, then promptly forgot it in favor of my ever-increasing to-read stack. Shame, really. Recently (today, actually) I revisited the story, coming away from the experience with all the enthusiasm I had after the original read. Extinction Journals manages the high-concept, visceral storytelling consistent with Bizarro literature, but delivers in addition, literary quality unfortunately uncommon with a lot of work in the same genre. The literal tale is of a man, the sole survivor of a nuclear cataclysm, searching the country for survivors in a suit made of cockroaches. The deeper tale explores survivor's will, collective consciousness, and how the two working together can be an…
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Reaching for conversation I once said to Ron Carlson, author of many short story collections including The Hotel Eden and At the Jim Bridger, after his book reading in Emporia, KS (USA) that touring has got to be one of the best things about being a writer."No," he said. "It's all about the writing." Yeah, I said, but knowing that people actually want to hear you read has got to stroke your ego just a bit. He insisted still that "it's all about the writing." Okay, so it's all about the writing, but the occasional piece of fan mail must help push through the days, weeks, months of solitude as the writer writes what he can later claim it was all about. Can I say this from experience? Yes and no. Last month I received a couple pieces of fan mail. How, I thought, do I have a single fan,…
Note: This review originally appeared in the now defunct DepravedPress.com Jason M. Heim. Remember to Blink. Lulu.com, 2003-04. $15.99, paper, ISBN: 1-4116-1121-7. The narrator of Jason M. Heim’s debut novel, Remember to Blink, suffers from what might best be described as a chronic case of boredom. Taking a cue from his mundane job in computer software maintenance at one of the world’s largest computer manufacturers, the unnamed narrator creates for himself an autopilot personality which he uses to handle tedious tasks while a separate, conscious part of his brain can ponder deeper ideas: “[…] whatever high concept my mind thinks is the flavor of the month. Things like evolution” (19). And evolution is one of the many trains this mind rides throughout the novel’s stream-of-consciousness styled rant, presented successfully, as a well crafted novel about a struggle for control and the resulting infinite burden this struggle carries. What might initially…
Midnight finds us rolling through the waves of the old Double Drive In, the gravel crunching under our tires, the Monte Carlo's trunk bottoming out like it used to, and all the broken glass, beer caps, and bullet casings now sparkle like stars. From "Trauma Plate" as included in Emporium Emporium taught me more about short story craft than most textbooks dedicated entirely to the topic. Adam Johnson has what some may call a natural story-telling ability, and I'd agree for the most part, but nature, I suspect, takes a person only so far, and Emporium exists as such a perfect specimen of contemporary fiction that I would hesitate to believe we as human beings have this innate level of ability. Yes, he has a flair for language. Yes, he can craft a compelling storyline. But what truly makes Adam Johnson endearing is his obvious knowledge of the craft. He…
..."How old were you the first time?" "The first time I shot someone? Nineteen." Leksi nodded and opened his mouth, but forgot what he had meant to say. Finally, he asked, "Who were we fighting back then?" Nikolai laughed. "How old do you think I am, Aleksandr?" "Thirty-Five?" Nikolai smiled broadly, flashing his crooked teeth. "Twenty-four." He pressed the poker's tip against the base of Leksi's skull. "Here's where the bullet goes." From "The Devil Comes to Orekhovo" as included in When the Nines Roll Over I can be a literary snob when I have to be. I'll admit that critically praised contemporary fiction is never something I go out of my way to jump on. You'd sooner catch me reading a forgotten receipt than something sitting on a grocery store book shelf. Why? I just feel that a lot of great writing goes unnoticed, and it's my job as…
Were you ever drinking one night and thought, "I would like to kill myself, but I just don't have a good reason. I wish my daughter would get hit by a car or I was a ground troop in The Iraqi War so people would say after I did it, 'He had his reasons." From "Civilization" as included in The Condemned Keep Going. When you land in a passage about a pregnant woman snorting cocaine and eating pussy, keep going. When you get halfway through a scene involving load blowing and load swallowing, keep going. Beauty exists at the end. And it is the rare beauty that informs everything prior. Noah Cicero has a way of bringing the most seemingly asinine and gratuitous scenes in to sharp focus with just a single paragraph or sentence. Take for instance the story "Gratuitous Kink The Immaculate Cherry Popping," in which a long…
He came close enough to her to see the webbed stresses on the surface of her eye spreading out from the minute white pocks of crushed glass. He wondered how it felt for her to have the roughness of the glass scratching against the insides of her eyelid, damaging it. From "Eye" as included in Altmann's Tongue If you haven't read anything by Brian Evenson then you haven't seen the true capabilities of modern literature. Every line in Altmann's Tongue simultaneously provokes, disgusts, and intrigues. And though much of the story collection might seem hard to comprehend at first a reader feels assured that Evenson leads a worthy journey. Do I know what the words “atumescence” or “transubstantiation” mean? I could venture a guess, but complete understanding is not what one seeks when reading Evenson. It’s about the journey, the path, and also about sucking a false eyeball out of…