Farrago’s Wainscot, Part 8: Animalia

Part 8: Animalia of Farrago’s Wainscot contains six stories, one novella, three poems, and an experimental wordform. Because I love to explore new things, I chose to read “Geographical Curiosities” by A. Ross Eckler first. Eckler’s experimental wordform is interesting and engaging. It also put me in the mood to read the rest of the issue. Whatever you do, don’t miss this one. If possible, read it first.

There is certainly something curious going on in “Pigment“ by Paul Abbamondi. Animals and Birds are melting to death. Humans are frightened by this unexplainable phenomenon and the possibility of contracting whatever virus that is causing it:

“Mom, are we going to melt at some point?”

She laughed, a little too quickly. I wrinkled my nose as she said, “We’re not animals, darling.”

Amanda’s brother, Robbie, goes to Etchton—a university where they have a department dedicated to studying and resolving this phenomenon—the day before two birds melt to death in Amanda’s front yard. The phrase: “We’re not animals” returns, reminding the reader that even though Amanda, her family, and her doctor seem quite calm, the possibility of humans melting like animals is a very real cause for concern.

While I found the resolution too easy, there are a lot of really neat points to “Pigment,” and Abbamondi deserves praise for crafting an intriguing premise and for his beautiful prose. Recommended.

“Mystic Tryst” by Daniel Braum opens with a dream that fades into real life in which Casey receives a mystifying phone call from his ex-wife, Kendra, who accuses him of taking “the fish.” There’s an almost comic feel to their telephone exchange, but it doesn’t quite hit the right notes, and I feel that Braum was trying too hard.

The fish, it turns out, are ghosts of fishes they once bought and owned together, and Casey’s ex-wife is convinced that the only way they’ll get rid of these ghostly fish is by bringing the fish back home to the oceans from which they were taken. But the bizarre element to this isn’t the ghost fish but rather the situation in which the characters place themselves. Their willingness with which they pursue this fish-returning goal suggests that the fish aren’t really what this is all about.

Braum’s narrative moves along at an almost hectic pace and creates a feeling of vertigo. The world seems off-kilter, and I don’t know whether my response to “Mystic Tryst” comes from my inability to immerse myself in the story and suspend disbelief, or whether it comes from my inability to empathize with either Casey or Kendra. I do feel it would have worked better for me if I had been given something or someone to care for. As it is, I found myself getting quite impatient with both Casey and Kendra—wanting them to just get over it. But then, this might be exactly the reaction Braum was looking for.

In “Fly” by Becca De La Rosa, Thomas comes home from the front and finds his ex-lover, Julia. It seems that there will be a reunion, but Julia recalls why she sent Thomas away in the first place.

Divided into mini-chapters that read like one-line poems, I was captivated by De La Rosa’s deft use of language and imagery. “Fly” reads like a work of art. I wouldn’t be surprised to find it in a best of anthology. This is one of those rare stories a reader loves to return to again and again, if only to relive that sense of immersion and joyous release. Highly recommended.

An old maid, a dead Indian who is also a spirit-priest, eyeballs in a teacup, and ghosts of the long-gone can be found in “Chimaera Constant” by Rob Hunter. Hunter fulfills the “weird” expectation with these. Readers are kept groping at the edges, searching for elusive meaning in a shifting landscape of memories and present events until it’s hard to tell which is real and which is memory. It is a pleasant confusion, and I didn’t really want to be unconfused. Hunter mesmerizes by his word choice, using combinations that hide as well as reveal. It’s an aesthetic that is essential to stories like these, where understanding isn’t all that important.

“The Baby is Safe“ by Marc Lowe is an interesting study in interstitial writing—the trigger line being, “The Baby is safe.” The images presented and the non-linear technique Lowe utilizes serve to intrigue, while references to a prosthetic baby, a client-lover, a wristwatch that is used as a mobile phone, and other strange paraphernalia give a glimpse into a world that’s much weirder than we suppose it to be.

In “The Fisherman’s Child,” Cat Rambo’s opening hooks readers immediately, reeling us in by a narrative voice that is strong yet tender, one that evokes a feeling of nostalgia as well as a sense of recognition. In the very first lines, Rambo manages to awaken our sympathies for a girl whose talent for fishing is unacknowledged by her own father:

The summer after his breakdown, the father spent his time fishing in the creek near a clear part of the morass. He caught whiskered catfish and hickory shad, grass carp and redfin pike. His daughter would follow him and sit crouched near the bank where he sat, watching the fishing pole’s tip with avid interest…she loved the outdoors and knew every tree in the bayou and the hollows where moss and orchids grew.

As the fisherman’s daughter strives to gain her father’s approval, he continues to ignore her. The father’s inner dialogue is telling as it reveals the struggle he feels with regard to his daughter. Told simply and beautifully, Rambo weaves her spell so well that even as we already feel the heartbreak coming on, we can’t bear to look away. “The Fisherman’s Child” is a standout in this issue, engaging the reader on all levels and providing us with a character we can identify with. It reminds us to not take those we love for granted. Highly recommended.

I’ve read a number of stories utilizing the card game as a vehicle, as Mark Teppo’s novella, “Faith, Hidden in the Hands of the Blind,” does. Seven players meet to play poker in Vilmo’s basement. Six of the players are familiar with each other, but the seventh, Deke, is an unknown. As the game unfolds, and as the evening progresses, we learn each player’s history. While the technique isn’t new, Teppo uses it well and provides us with an engrossing and well-written tale.

There are three poems in this issue of Farrago’s Wainscot: two by John Poch and one by Matt Mullins. Of these three, John Poch’s “To Recover From Lightnight, Etc.” spoke to me the most. Meant to be read like an instruction list, Poch allows humor to shine through, turning this poem into a gem.

This issue of Farrago’s Wainscot proved to be an interesting and enjoyable read and contained some true high spots that will remain with this reader for a long time to come.