i am this meat, edited by Adicus Garton, James Maddox, and Rev. Brian Worley

i am this meat is an anthology with a creative premise: stories that focus on different aspects of the human body. The idea has both novelty and scope going for it; there’s certainly no lack of interesting directions to take the theme (most stories are speculative to some degree or another, but there are numerous exceptions), and its uniqueness is reinforced by its division into subsections from “Digestive” to “Reproductive,” accompanied by detailed anatomical illustrations. It’s an anthology of vignettes and very short stories, which gives a sense of wide variety, if not always great depth.

Kristi Petersen’s protagonist in “Bad Enough” has tried every diet in the book, with no success, and so at last she decides she must eat nothing at all. She proceeds to maroon herself on a hotel balcony, following a meticulous plan to starve herself as comfortably, yet as inescapably, as possible. “Bad Enough” is entertaining and enjoyable and manages a rare achievement; playing on our unfortunate familiarity with self-consciousness, diet desperation, and anorexia, Petersen effortlessly wins our sympathy (if not our approval) for a venture which is absolutely insane.

Unfortunately, right when it seems the story’s about to get even better, we’re tossed a resolution which is entirely external to the character and entirely arbitrary. This reader was left with the distinct, disappointing impression that the author, after crafting a strong start and middle, chose the easy way out.

“Rotting” by Shannon Dugan Iverson is best summed up in the story’s own words:

“I stopped eating meat after that. We are what we eat, and I wasn’t going to go on being a predator. The questions were as obvious as their answers: What kind of man hits his wife? (A violent bastard.) Who is more peaceful than a vegetarian? (No one.)”

The protagonist soon joins up with V-Spot—an organization that collects discarded vegetables and uses them to make food for the poor and homeless. In a few simple scenes, he starts searching for his place in life, adjusting to a reality which might best be described as “sad but true.”

“Rotting” is well-written and compelling, carefully choosing details that are colorful and interesting, yet plausible. It’s this sense of plausibility, of down-to-earth-ness, that makes this story feel solid and trustworthy, which is certainly part of what makes it such a satisfying read.

Not so J.R. Parks’s “A Date with Edward Hubert,” the surrealistic tale of Mr. Hubert, who plucks off and devours his own body parts. In between fingers, toes, and the like, the narration wanders off on wild tangents, always cutting back right in time for the next morsel. The story seems an exercise in the grotesque and the random with no real point or any hook to interest the reader. Its style is not to my taste; I imagine it’s to somebody’s taste, but I’m not sure I happen to know any of them personally.

I greatly enjoyed “Synesthesia” by E.E. King in which our narrator experiences a fantastical heightening of his senses, becoming exquisitely aware of details and sensations far removed from normal human experience, and focusing on trivialities normal humans pay little attention to.

The power here is in the excellent descriptive prose, in the freshness and excitement it successfully conveys, and in its application of that freshness to mundane details in the mundane world. Happily, pacing is well-handled; each new sense our narrator gains is given its due attention, then we skip ahead to the next one before that one gets boring. Nor does the story overstay its welcome—a small variety of new senses, and then we go right to the finale. A short story that has a neat idea, presents it well, and then gets out—with a bang.

Rev. Brian Worley, one of the anthology’s co-editors, offers us “On Reflections and Flowers,” a series of four character portraits loosely connected and dealing with the theme of self-image. In this reviewer’s opinion, this is one of those stories that is perhaps too subtle for its own good. Though descriptions of “The Girl Without A Face” and “Chairman Meow” raise a spark of curiosity, most of the story seems intent on giving us a tour of philosophical viewpoints which have been clothed in the mundane (well, in the light urban fantastical) until they become clouded, opaque, and meaningless.

I thought Billy Stories were exclusive to Terry Bisson, and yet Daniel Euphrat brings us “Billy Undergoes Some Changes,” written in a somewhat similar style to Bisson’s, in which Billy is dismayed to find a second nose sprouting from his forehead. Like many of Bisson’s Billy stories, “Billy Undergoes Some Changes” is written as a playful chain of nonsense wrapped in deadpan delivery. It’s amusing enough for a three-page story, but at its essence, it’s a one-joke piece. No, I’ll be fair; it’s actually a two-joke piece. The closing joke, alas, is a cheap shot which also requires a disconcertingly sudden reassessment of how old Euphrat’s “little Billy” is supposed to be.

“Re-creation,” a short-short by Dianne Rees, presents “a room of Jane mistakes,” where Future Jane works, brewing up new Janes-in-progress and discarding those she doesn’t like. It’s an interesting way to look at changes a person goes through, or tries to go through, but I don’t feel the flash fiction format works to the advantage of “Re-creation”; it felt far too quick, skimmed over superficially, and hence makes the entire story feel superficial. A shame, since it’s an idea that could be developed nicely into something a bit more substantial and thought provoking.

In “Catch Me” by J.F. Peterson, Harry is a construction worker whose wife, Mekelle, is sick and dying, an invalid. The story contrasts Harry’s absolute love and care for his wife with the unavoidable frustration and despair near-inherent in such devoted caregiving. Dangled before Harry is the constant temptation of the Cathouse—a brothel of cat/human hybrids; affectionate, beautiful, and tantalizingly within reach.

Though the Cathouse and its genetically modified inhabitants are the speculative element of this piece—and they do get their due in detail and attention to design—the real core of “Catch Me” is Harry’s relationship with his wife. It’s a terrible, painful situation to be in, one many people share in the present-day world and in any other time. When a love that includes mutual enjoyment and satisfaction is swapped for one that requires extreme dedication and commitment, with little tangible reward and little hope, then the attraction of the outside world, of getting away from it all, must be terrible. What Peterson does in “Catch Me” is give a single, physical focus to that attraction in the form of the Cathouse ladies who are A) enormously seductive and B) inhuman, unnatural, and hollow. Harry’s feelings toward the Cathouse show and amplify his dilemma and anguish over any form of betrayal, however light, natural, or excusable it may be. Kudos to Peterson for a very well chosen SF element.

Second co-editor James Maddox imagines a bizarre disease in “Shaded Love.” Parts of people become insubstantial shadows while their shadows take on the appearance of flesh and blood. It’s a bit much to suspend one’s belief around, but once you do, you’ll find “Shaded Love” a gentle tale of natural, human emotions in response to the overwhelmingly unnatural. When faced with adversity, humans cope and humans suffer; “Shaded Love” amply demonstrates both.

Anybody who’s taken a course in psychology will be familiar with the eerie sensation of reading the description of some neurosis or pathology and realizing, “Oh, God, I’ve got those symptoms!” You don’t, of course (one hopes), but the description jogs memories of similar thoughts and behaviors, and we allow ourselves to forget for a moment how severe a trait must be to signify mental illness. Bill Kte’pi makes marvelous use of this phenomenon in “When Everyone Comes To Your Birthday Party.” Carl can’t shake the feeling that something is awry. Over the course of the story, his sense of discord is examined and amplified, and by the last page, the reader can indulge in the deliciously impossible notion that he just might have it, too.

“Freelanga” by Jason Sanford describes the tortured existence of a man who created a race of superpowered, shape-shifting warriors and is now being hounded for all the death and misery he is responsible for. The protagonist, on the run now for decades, undergoes a strange sort of atonement—perhaps, though, one that’s a bit too late. A solid story, mostly aimed at building up the final scene; this reader found “Freelanga” pleasant but unremarkable.

Kathie Giorgio’s protagonist in “Delicious” decides, on a whim, to “dance naked with marshmallows” as a crazy, to-hell-with-self-consciousness indulgence. A three-page story about aging and excitement.

The first half, the crazy-whim part, I found interesting. The second half, the conclusion, I found painfully trite, sudden, and unsatisfying. Does a poor ending invalidate a strong opening? When they’re presented in contrast, with the poor part represented as “successful,” then yes, I think it does.

“Finally, a Husband Who Gets It” by Randall Brown is about a husband who realizes his wife is avoiding sex with him and so is driven to improve himself and reclaim her interest—which all reads like an extended advertisement for Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus. Still, “Finally” is a fun story, dressing up the familiar battle of the sexes with good-natured humor and good intentions.

Corporate greed and callousness have always been an easy target for storytellers—which should not be taken to mean that these easy hits are not justified or entertaining, as “Xarms” by i am this meat’s third and final co-editor, Adicus Ryan Garton, demonstrates nicely. In a future where commercial pharmaceuticals and DNA-modifications are the norm, the corporate Powers-That-Be have decreed that every new pharmaceutical modification marketed must be tried out on the company’s own executives. Tobey is selected as the living front-window-display for Xarmcaps—a pill that gives you four arms instead of two.

From there, the story is not hard to guess. It’s an absurd situation, and “Xarms” swings a flashlight back and forth, giving us glimpses at corners of its depths and showing how much effort and ruthlessness are put into preserving and encouraging the absurdity. But despite the familiar structure, and despite many unnecessary details early on that detract from its tightness, “Xarms” is well-written and effective, conveying a cynical outlook we can only wish was less firmly rooted in reality.

In “Pear Shaped” by Daniel R. Robichaud, Mathematician Nigel Roegerg awakens one morning to find that every bone in his body has vanished, leaving him a semi-controllable mass of flesh and muscle. This story never really takes off, vacillating instead between two different focuses: what’s happening to Nigel, and Nigel’s scholarly, academic, frightened reactions. “Pear Shaped” flips back and forth between these and, alas, never does very much with either.

Steve Calvert’s “Hormones” touches on the natural preoccupation teenagers have with the various effects of pubescence, mostly on how distracting and embarrassing they can be. It’s a solid story, but the subject matter is familiar and tired, and “Hormones” is not original or interesting enough to set it apart from any other portrayal of puberty.

Lastly, Jack Kaulfus brings us a character portrait in “Anatomy, Mechanics.” Jane, or perhaps Pete, is a woman inching towards becoming a man. She cross-dresses and attends transsexual support groups, but she continues to struggle on the cusp of making her transition. The story is less about Jane’s decisions and her longing to become male and more about where her struggles have brought her, about the world she now finds herself in. Her conflicts and troubles are exposed to the reader, aided by helpful friends Diane and Chris.

“Anatomy, Mechanics” does exactly what it aims to. Jane is a real, interesting, and complex character. The scenes the story takes us through—Jane’s apartment and Chris’s meeting with Jane’s ex-girlfriend, two excellent show-stoppers—are powerful and memorable while still feeling realistic and plausible. The story ends with some closure but no grand finale or neat conclusion, which is perfectly appropriate as there’s nothing neat, compact, and well-organized to conclude with.

All in all, I found i am this meat to contain a rich, interesting variety of stories, many of which impressed me with their freshness. Also in the anthology are poems “Body Shop” by Shaindel Beers and “The Call Couldn’t Be Completed As Dialed” by Bryon Howell—not reviewed here as it is generally considered an omen of the approaching apocalypse for this reviewer to critique poetry.

Kudos to the editors for this somewhat off kilter collection.

Ziv’s Final Tally:
Stories: 19
Loving Couples: 6
Illustration of Human Digestive Tract: Yes
Widespread Plagues: 2
Personal Illnesses: 2
Involuntary Spontaneous Mutations: 5
Voluntary, Planned Mutations: 2
Voluntary Mutations the Subject Was Actually Happy With: 0
Predicted Popular Support for Advancing Genetic Engineering: Low

Publisher: Susurrus Press (October 2007)
Price: Free download
E-book: 129 pages