Gag by Melissa
Unger
Pages: 141
Publisher: Roundfire Books
Released: 2014
Guest review by Melanie Page
Gag starts out
with a simple idea: Peter, a native of Brooklyn, stopped eating 15 years ago.
How does he fit into a society that often schedules its activities around
eating? His solution is to head to Paris, the food capitol of the world. On the
plane ride over, he meets Dallas, a large red-headed Texan man who will
challenge Peter’s very notions of what is truth, what is reality—even when
Peter doesn’t, or even can’t, believe what he’s hearing.
This is a short little book that tends to read with the
ferocity of a well-developed post-modern short story (like “Cavemen in the
Hedges” or “Stone Animals”). For that reason, I enjoyed it very much.
Post-modern stories can often be crazy, whimsical, or downright odd because
readers will just go with it for a certain amount of time. Novels can’t make
readers suspend disbelief for too long, lest they become silly or ridiculous.
Unger flows back and forth between making me disbelieve her characters and
making me understand that unusual things happen to people. Just when the plot
felt like it couldn’t keep up its strangeness, a character would do something
normal, like crochet or go for a walk to reel me back in.
Part of the charm of Gag
is that it’s funny. When Peter gets on the plane to head to Paris, he realizes
that no one is sitting next to him. Until—
“…the inevitable happened: loud, fat, male and smelling
slightly of refried beans.
‘Hiya! Mind if I squeeze in there, buddy?’
Well of course I do,
you bovine monster, Peter thought to himself, averting his gaze, repulsed;
but he got up silently and let the man through.”
There is quite a bit about being fat and consuming food in
this book. At one point, Peter tries to force himself to eat an éclair while in
Paris: “He impulsively grabbed it, and swung his hand up to his mouth. It was
closed. He wiled his brain to send a message to his mouth, to open up, but the
wires were somehow crossed, the message didn’t get through. He knocked and
knocked at the door of his mouth, the éclair smashing repeatedly against his
face, to no avail. He stopped. The éclair was now a pulp of brown goo in his
fist, and on the edge of his vision when he looked down, he could see the
blurred bits of slop on his nose and mouth.”
At times, though, it seemed like the story was sending a
fat-hate message. One character can’t see herself as a woman when she is
heavier. At one point, she is so thin that she looks “frail, possibly delicate,
like a paper cut-out of herself, yet to [Peter] she looked extraordinarily
beautiful.” I was troubled by the idea of a woman looking so different that she
is not quite herself, yet this is when she is most gorgeous. The book repeats
this message throughout.
Overall, Gag is a
story about trust and secrets, but it’s delivered in a way that seems more
about the absurd and metaphor. There are a number of comma splices throughout
the book, but if you overlook those, you will enjoy this curious story. So much
of what’s great about this book would spoil the story if I discussed it
further, so check it for yourself.
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.
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