ChiZine #37, July-September 2008

A sense of uncertainty floats through the stories of ChiZine #37: uncertainty over where we are, who (or what) we’re reading about, why certain things are happening—and the characters aren’t always much clearer about these matters than we are. The potential is there for some wonderful tales; unfortunately, that potential is not quite fulfilled overall.

“Intertropical Convergence Zone” by Nadia Bulkin is set in Indonesia, though the country itself is never named, and the story is told in a fashion that moves it beyond a highly specific time and place. The narrator is a lieutenant in an anticommunist army whose general has engaged the services of a dukun (shaman). The dukun’s magic works by granting abilities to people who ingest particular objects (so, for example, the General eats a bullet and can then sense where his enemies are), and our man is sent to collect these objects; as the General’s power grows, so do the demands on the Lieutenant—until he is forced to make a terrible choice. Bulkin’s writing is subtle, juxtaposing normality and brutality to great effect. Her ending is equally resonant whether interpreted literally or metaphorically, and her portrait of the main character is well-drawn. And yet I find myself less enthusiastic about the story than I ought to be; the same quality that makes the setting seem timeless can also make the events seem distant, which does reduce the impact of the tale somewhat.

Richard Larson’s “Good Night” is the short tale of two parents sitting up on a cold winter’s night, wishing for their son to return home. Except things are not as simple as that, because the couple’s son (and, indeed, the couple themselves) may not be entirely human—and, whatever he is, has a habit of killing other boys. Larson’s writing is creepily atmospheric, and subtle in revealing the truth of the situation. A little too subtle for me, actually. There are suggestions, but they didn’t cause a mental lightbulb to switch on so I could think, “Oh, so that’s what he might be…” And, since the nature of the story means “Good Night” hinges on its ending, Larson’s piece is only a partial success.

Leslie Claire Walker’s “Outcast” tells a story within a story. A prisoner has the ability to spread knowledge with his song that others might prefer to remain secret—which is why the man’s captors have torn his lungs out. But he still has his senses, and the prison warden has a tale to tell—of how he, the warden, killed a former prisoner. The effect of Walker’s story is all in the telling; she superbly evokes the atmosphere of the prison and the protagonist’s sense of timelessness at his monotonous, only half-seen surroundings. And, when the prisoner goes to the warden’s office, words and sentence-fragments are fired at him and reader alike, and the effect is disorientating for both. Walker’s writing puts us right there with the prisoner—whether we want to be there or not.