Crocodile Smiles: shortshrift fictions - Yuriy Tarnawsky
Pages: 114
Publisher: Black Scat Books
Released: 2014
Guest review by Melanie Page
“Are crocodiles capable of smiling,” we are asked, “if they
can’t cry?” Yuriy Tarnawsky’s newest collection contains six short, absurdist
stories--confessional in nature, of course--that that suggest the author
borrowed from playwriting and well-known tales.
Each story is process-oriented. First a character does
something, and then the next step, and then the next. Skipping one part of the
process is unthinkable, which gives some of the stories their length.
“Agamemnon (post mortem),” described to readers as taking place on a stage in
front of an audience, begins with sounds: hacking, sawing, screaming, moaning,
crushing. We are tuned into the audio portion of the event.
Next, characters bring out a large thing as part of a
procession, including a dwarf man and woman whom we are told to guess are
Clytemnestra and Aegisthus, the murderers of Agamemnon. When all proceed off
stage, they return again with another large piece of something. As the audience
watches--and readers “watch” too--the pieces are stacked and come together as
the body of the murdered. The description of leaving and returning are
described again and again. Once the deed is done, everyone retreats. But the
story/play doesn’t end there. Offstage we hear the couple talk, the squeaky
springs of post-murder fornication, and some arguing.
What could be the problem? Why something as small as who left
the light on after they stacked the dead man’s body. Aegisthus must come from
offstage to cross in front of the audience in near dark, squishing through the
bloody puddles to get to the light. With everything necessary completed, the
story ends. Skipping one step wouldn’t make sense to the story. So, the
procession in and out seems agonizingly long, but makes it easier to imagine
the act truly happening.
Why this style of writing wasn’t my favorite of Tarnawsky’s, I
appreciated the exploratory toying with form and content. I much prefer his collection Short Tales (Journal of Experimental
Fiction Books, 2011), which takes on absurdist and cerebral narratives that
stick closer to traditional storytelling. You’re asked to go deep into your
mind, but you’re told to go there in a way that you recognize.
Crocodile Smiles was
somewhat like you imagine to be descriptive services for the blind, but as the
stories progress, the language takes on a rhythm, much like learning to dance
to a new song with foreign steps. But, when you get the moves, you enjoy that
it is a unique experience.
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