For decades, writers have struggled to create
the original character. Charts have been drawn, people have been
analyzed, fiction has been studied, but when you think about who
has truly gotten it right, can you really say for sure? For the
most part, stereotypes are put through a blender and presto!
A character is born. This is how it is done, so let’s not
try and deceive each other. Character development is nothing more
than making a good meal, filled with ingredients that are agreed
to be worthwhile and interesting to consume. Consume. But what happens
when you try to address the ideas of stereotypes, form-fitting molds,
changes in character, the truths of what is and is not socially
acceptable from one genre group in contrast to another? Or maybe
there is a better question to pose here: What happens when Carlton
Mellick tries to do it?
So it’s been said:
“[Mellick’s] prose will skewer you and roast you like
the flabby marshmallow you are…”
This was a quote from author Jemiah Jefferson
on the back of the book. I had heard little about Mellick,
but most of what I saw from various comments on Amazon.com got me
thinking that he was going to be one of those kinds of writers you
love or you hate or you think he’s okay. All right, now, think
about that. Exactly. So, when the Rev tosses me a copy of MM
to get my opinion of it, I was at once interested and hesitant and
somewhat apathetic, as the signs foretold.
Opening the book didn’t do much for me in
terms of making a good first impression, either.
Appearance:
In it’s defense, the book itself has no
page numbers, so I can’t really say why the book’s font
and size was set large; perhaps Afterbirth Books thinks a work is
merited on its page count, rather than it’s content. If this
happens to be the case, it’s their prerogative, but I feel
this story could have fended for itself. First off, I have to comment
that, in my opinion, MM is not a novel. It is a novella, possibly
even a long short story; however, again, I say this merely as a
matter of personal belief, as I think that as a novel, it was lacking,
but as a smaller piece it worked perfectly.
On an outward appearance, the book comes off as
amateurish. The illustrations by Food Fortunata tend to inflict
more damage to the work than heighten the themes and ideas of the
story. And again I keep coming back to the visual look of the typeset.
Of course, this could be seen as a trivial thing for many. The idea
of don’t judge a book by its cove;lakjdafjkaoisjfsdijrl;jalc,,.;’—yeah,
I don’t give a shit about that. We live in a world of judgment.
Those that don’t realize it are blessed, and those that do
and go against it are just stubborn.
Moving on.
Let’s get past the superficiality of the
book and move on to what I can admit is really important: The Story.
As hinted at before, the theme to MM has to do with the idea of
self, stereotypes, and the idea that there is some “mold”
that we can break out of to become deep and interesting people.
So, what do we have with MM? Ten characters, each with their own
stereotypical tendencies, are trapped seemingly against their will
in a mall that happens to be bleeding menstrual blood.
Okay, zombie-esque. Deserted. People trapped in
this setting, I can totally dig. So I’m drawn in to the premise,
but how does the writing fare?
Writing:
The first paragraph made me wonder, “Is
it going on like this for a reason,” and to tell you the truth
I’m still wondering. The style of this first person narrative
is simple—very simple—and I would argue that it stays
simple throughout the entire book. Whether this is a reflection
of the main character or not is arguable, but for the most part
I felt that the writer was just giving us the facts about what could
be seen.
Did the style seem dumbed down? Yes.
Did that hurt the story at all? No. In fact, being
that the main character was charged as being a “corporate
monkey”, it probably helped it along. The writing style kind
of fed into the idea that these people were something that could
be predicted; they are people that, even if they had something interested
to say, the way that they would say it would be filled with missing
parts, a little bland, and devoid of the detail an artist might
lend to the scenes.
Ideas:
This is where the story really shines. As the
characters are murdered for being mundane, the protagonist, John,
tries to change himself, or “break from his mold.” However,
as Spyder comments at one pont, it seems that John is “about
to break out of one mold and step into another.” Hence the
question: How do you create something new? How can a person be completely
original? It’s not possible in a true reality. Everything
has a dollar attached to it; every genre is a potential stereotype.
There is nothing more that you can do, but become interesting, or
mundane, in a different subculture. And so the story goes. They
destroy their self-images to become what this unseen murderer might
consider less tedious, but as it turns out, even the killer is a
stereotype, hefting her own ideas of truth to the top of the stereotype
food chain.
And so would end a normal, decent story, with the death of the
main character, the revelation that the tormentor is nothing more
than the alternative to those she molests, and the returned ability
for those left to leave the mall.
Everyone goes home happy. A normal, decent
end.
So, anyway, then the zombie hits the stage and has sex involving
visceral matter.
I suppose these things happen.
More Ideas:
It stands to reason that a book like this would
have more to say, and MM doesn’t fail to deliver, as the book
turns from slightly supernatural to full-blown fucked. It’s
at this point that you love the book for all that it is. You realize
that the message of it isn’t to point out that all the stereotypes
are inherently the same. It’s that they are all the same,
and if you want to be different, truly different, you had better
start sprouting wings or raising from the dead.
Though maybe I’m shoveling my own contextual
ideas.
(No, that couldn’t be the case.)
By the end, you see that things end up crazy in
a sane kind of way. There is order to the chaos. There is light
at the end of the tunnel, and though it’s dingy and covered
in some vomitous liquid, it’s still burning as best it can.
By the end, this menstruating shopping center has given birth to
something.
Final Verdict:
The Menstruating Mall is a great first read for
those looking to get into Mellick. The story has all the turns to
make you wonder, all the off color and strange images and ideas
to push you further, and the end, though not much of a bang, leaves
you contemplating the work’s meaning long after you’ve
set it down.
A- |
