(Full disclosure: Pat is an OWC editor. But he had nothing to do with this review. And just to prove that I pull no fists due to his position, let me say this: Pat smells like dog flatus. A reviewer with less than honest intentions wouldn’t say that)
The universe is protecting the romantic sadists that populate Patrick King’s The Redneck Kafka and Other Stories. These narrators hopelessly want what they cannot have, and worse, what they know will ultimately hurt them. This inevitable destruction permeates our characters’ lives, providing inner conflict enough to pull swiftly through this chapbook’s short 31 pages.
“Watching,” the collection’s most affecting story, chronicles the relationship between an office worker and his voyeured love interested, a homeless woman with an affinity for trashed noodles. With short, choppy sentences, “Watching” portrays the stark visual realities of this relationship while still imbuing a sense of romantic tragedy: “She gives him a look. A dark kind of figure many stories up, looking menacing. She digs through the trash again, looking for something to eat” (12).
So much of this collection’s power exists via King’s ability to work the abbreviated prose poem style (which defines about half of the stories) for all of its intended emotional impact. A story that end on a note of implied conclusion is not uncommon, allowing the reader to wander “off the page” for relevance. “Calling…Calling” for instance, is a surrealist tale of a man dealing with a mid-night caller, ultimately driven to hurl his phone across the room, leaving the reader with room for interpretation. Though for fans of more traditional narrative, The Redneck Kafka and Other Stories offers plenty of firm conclusion as well. Take “The Stain,” which ends “This world is madness. And only the mad are in love” (29). No matter what comes before, a line like this can only be a definite end.
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I’ve heard that, about his odor. Dog flatus.
Caleb would never be influenced. There just weren’t any other books to review. How can he be blamed for the shortage of writers?