Kill Marguerite and Other Stories by Megan Milks
240 Pages
Publisher: Emergency Press
Released: 2014
Guest review by Melanie Page
Megan Milks’s collection Kill
Marguerite and Other Stories is both innovative and uncomfortable. The
stories frequently use frameworks to shape the outcomes, such as the title
story in which two adolescent girls battle it out for popularity and respect in
a videogame, allowing them to use weapons, found objects (like jet packs and
hearts), and lose lives when they are killed.
Other stories, like “Twins,” which comes in two parts (“Elizabeth’s
Lament” and “Sweet Valley Twins #119: Abducted!”) use popular culture that many
women today will admit they were raised on: Sweet
Valley Twins, The Babysitter’s Club,
and My Teacher is An Alien. The
collection also uses song lyrics, Ancient Greek myth, violence, a whole lot of
body fluids, and plays with concepts of gender.
The use of pop culture that is familiar to me was definitely
my favorite aspect of the collection. Milks uses common conventions to make a
connection to readers that also gives them the opportunity to reconsider what
they thought they knew. In the title story, the girls live in a videogame
world. Here, Milks is rather clever; the way players process new information in
videogames and learn from it to make better choices after they die in a tough
level challenges the notion that we can’t go back and have the perfect witty
comment or knock the mean girl on her ass. Essentially, readers can relive their
own brutal adolescence with the hope that a particular moment can be redone
until it’s how we want it.
A problem with relying so heavily on popular culture is that
it could leave a lot of readers confused. Had I not read hundreds of Sweet Valley Twins and Babysitter’s Club books, the references
would have been lost on me. Personally, I’ve never read one of the My Teacher is an Alien books, but the
title of that series kind of gives it away. There was also a story that uses
lyrics from a song or band that I’ve never heard of. The relationships between
the girls, though, are rather intricate but seemingly simplistic. Without
knowing those relationships, some of Milks’s writing loses its power and sounds
mean or trite, such as why one character is so popular and another is a loser.
There is no room for expansion on these claims because they are well-known
facts in the world of the Wakefield twins and the babysitters.
Another problem many readers may have is with Milks’s
constant use of bodies being what we normally consider gross. Only in a few
stories, like “Swamp Cycle” and “Slug,” did I have a deep-seated gross feeling
(one that lasted for days). I expected “The Girl with the Expectorating
Orifices” to be the worst offender, but instead I saw this story as the one
that made the most sense. The girl with the expectorating orifices pukes when
she’s drank too much, has snot running down her face when she’s crying, she
menstruates, and gets diarrhea when she’s too anxious. This all sounds pretty
normal to me, but we are so uncomfortable with our bodily functions that they are
removed from public view. At first, the story seems gross, but as it goes
on and the narrator shows how everyone has expectorating orifices, the story
becomes almost comfortable and relatable.
Other stories, like “Slug,” explore bodies in a way I didn’t
understand. “Slug” is the tale of a young woman named Patty who dates men and
punishes them (I think) by shoving dildos in their assholes. She wears a strap
on under her skirt and seems generally unsatisfied sexually. But when a
six-foot slug climbs in through her window, suctions its way down her body, and
then enters her vagina and nibbles on her cervix, Patty is sold. Eventually,
she turns into a slug as well and, long story short, ends up eating off the
other slug’s penis. Trying to figure out the symbolism of all of this is hard
work—which doesn’t mean it’s not worth the work. At first, I thought that Patty
wanted a penis and then became a penis (a slug), but then she…ate a penis? Or,
the story could be a metaphor for a female to male transition (I think).
So, here is where I start to feel like both an idiot and a bad
person. Because Milks’s characters are pretty gender fluid (pronouns switch,
names typically reserved for one gender are used for another, roles disappear),
I get that she’s writing about topics that are not discussed often in public,
nor are we educated about such subjects, though I truly wish we were. I read as
much as I can about gender so that I am educated, but I also recognize I am an
outsider who may not fully understand. Since I don’t want to assume what Patty
is doing in this story and end up looking like I don’t accept and respect
gender differences, “Slug” left me feeling pretty awful.
On the other hand, “Earl and Ed” was a story that used
metaphor to examine “unnatural” relationships that are shunned by the majority
and how violence and sadness can result, and it was done in a way that allowed
me to both learn and enjoy the story. Earl is a wasp (penetrating stinger—I’m
making assumptions) that is referred to in feminine pronouns. Ed is a flower
(just think Frida Kahlo) referred to in masculine pronouns. Ed can create life,
whereas Earl is always leaving because she needs her freedom to fly (I kept
thinking “and this bird
you cannot change”). The roles of the characters change from what is
“expected” and kept me reading and questioning what would happen to this
bee-flower relationship.
Overall, Kill
Marguerite and Other Stories stretched the boundaries of my understanding
and comfort. I applaud Milks for writing challenging fiction that goes against
the standard of easily-digestible reads that reiterate what readers already
believe. Although a tough collection, readers who want to come away from a book
feeling differently will enjoy this collection.
Melanie Page has an MFA from the University of Notre Dame
and is an adjunct instructor in Indiana. She is the creator of Grab the Lapels,
a site that publishes book reviews and interviews of folks who identify as
women at grabthelapels.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment