Tag: domestic grotesque

The Art of the Domestic Grotesque: An Interview with Caleb J. Ross in the newest issue of Surreal Grotesque

I’m not sure why I received this error message (I could read the issue just fine) but the language seems strangely apropo.

I’m honored to have been able to spout off a bit for the newest issue of Surreal Grotesque magazine.

Here’s a taste:

Your work doesn’t really resemble a genre in any way, which is nice, although people try to pigeonhole certain writers as being Chuck Palahniuk-esque or in the vein of “urban noir”. If you had to describe your writing style of work to someone who has never read you before, how would you describe your writing?

I use the term Domestic Grotesque a lot, which basically means family dynamic meets visceral irrationality. The best example I can think of—though this book came out after I coined the term Domestic Grotesque—is Matt Bell’s Cataclysm Baby. A lot of Brian Evenson’s work would also fit. I love the imagery I can get away with when I write the grotesque, and I love the inherent tension when dealing with a family and their inborn troubles.

I’m not against being compared or pigeonholed. In a way, it’s validating to know that I, as an author, belong to something greater than myself. Wow, that sentence makes me seem like my own anti-hero.

Head over to the Surreal Grotesque Issuu site to read the rest of the interview. Stick around for an interview with Richard Thomas and work from Chris Deal among others. You won’t be sorry.

December 27, 2012
What is Domestic Grotesque Fiction and Why Do I Write It?

I’ve called myself a writer of grotesque family fiction, but what does that term really mean? I give a brief definition of grotesque domestic fiction, or grotesque family fiction, by way of example, in an earlier blog post:

Take a family situation—usually some sort of broken family dynamic—mix in something grotesque—possibly morbid but not necessarily—and you’ve probably got domestic grotesque.

But I don’t know if that fully captures it. Up front, I have to say that I’ve always been the type to back away from definitions that try too hard to avoid definition. You know the type; those writers who say, “No, I don’t write horror fiction, I write transgressive commentaries on modernist life where social norms are exposed as metaphorical fangs in the collective neck…” But in the world of marketing, it is important to simultaneously embrace and reject established genres. You know, ride coattails while sewing your own. So, I write literary fiction but I actually write domestic grotesque fiction.

With that in mind, I coined the term “domestic grotesque” fiction, which Solarcide called a genre all my own (though, probably because I’ve been promoting the term as my own). In that Solarcide interview, I use a scene from Stranger Will to exemplify the term:

I find something inherently interesting with taking the trope of father/son catch and twisting it just enough to be jarring (re: dead raccoon) but still remain entirely relatable. These subtle twists are where I get the descriptor for my work, domestic grotesque.

So why do I write domestic grotesque fiction? Part aesthetics and part concept penetration. Domestic grotesque fiction isn’t only fun to write, it also allows me to very effectively zero in on an idea by pairing dissimilar concepts. Stranger Will = pregnancy and cleaning up dead bodies. I Didn’t Mean to be Kevin = lost parenthood and body parts. “Click-Clack” = newborn baby (implying potential) and mental retardation (no potential). It’s fun.

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Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulgrand/451080165/

January 21, 2012

A selection of my strangest gifts ever given

I write domestic grotesque fiction, which is a term I think I made up, but is quite suiting to the themes and content of my stories and books. The most famous short story that I think would fit into the domestic grotesque genre is “Good Country People” by Flannery O’Conner (visualized quite creepily in this short film from the 1960s and quite cheesily in this student clip). Take a family situation—usually some sort of broken family dynamic—mix in something grotesque—possibly morbid but not necessarily—and you’ve probably got domestic grotesque.

As you can imagine, Christmas is a fun time for my family.

I’ve given quite a few quirky gifts. Though none could be tagged as grotesque, they are representative of the type of mind that would write a domestic grotesque story, I think. Tis the season and all that, so I figured I would share a few that I’ve so graciously given over the years.

Kangaroo Scrotum change purse

Lucky Recipient: uncle

Yep, it’s a real kangaroo scrotum. I bought one for myself years ago and still use it to this day. Quite durable, those marsupial nut sacks.

Remote Triggered Farting Bear

Lucky recipient: sister

Elegantly simple. Place bear near unsuspecting grandmother. Press remote button. Watch rest of family pretend to ignore what they assume is just a more audible version of what grandma does all the time.

Huggable Swearing Bear

Lucky recipient: sister

Elegantly simple. Place bear near unsuspecting grandmother. Tell grandmother to hug bear. Watch rest of family pretend not to be embarrassed as we hear an audible version of what grandma is thinking all the time.

Zebra/Tiger Table

Lucky recipient: mother.

My mother refused to tell me what she wanted for Christmas, so I taught her a lesson by giving her a bunch of stupid crap. This table is probably the stupidest. Lesson learned, mom. I actually gave a zebra table (sans the tiger), but I couldn’t find a picture of it anywhere online. Though I think I like this one better. 2011 gift idea!

Bath towel with my giant face on it

Lucky recipient: mother

I specifically made sure to call this gift a bath towel, rather than a beach towel or dish towel, so as to enhance the creepy factor. That face is actual size…if my face suffered from Elephantiasis. that face is actually about the size of a couch cushion. Bonus funny: I’m my mother’s only son.

Way-too-old child footprints

Luck recipient: mother

You remember those cute infant-to-toddler foot print pictures that children often make for their parents. This is kinda like that except instead of ohhh-ing and awwww-ing there was much ewwww-ing and therapist calling. I actually think this was a Mother’s Day gift. Either way, ha!

Might I recommend you do the same? Creep out your family by gifting one of the items above. Or, better yet, mix in some bookage and give a copy of one of my books. Click below to go to heaven.

November 29, 2011